INV 82

Nameless quickly realized that he had made a mistake.

Asking back without thinking was his losing move.

He had no idea why his disciple, who had grown so large it was now embarrassing to even call him a child, was in heat for him, but this wasn’t something that should have been asked so bluntly. He should have evaded it indirectly.

To Nameless, his disciple’s greed was a topic far too awkward and shameful to make into a conversation.

Of course, considering his historical background, Nameless was a fairly open-minded person, so he wasn’t trying to taboo things like copulation or sexual desire.

The problem was the fact that such feelings were excessive for a relationship between a master and a disciple.

To Nameless, the bond between master and disciple was, quite literally, the forging of a new tie between parent and child.

That was why, back when he was a Taoist immortal, he had declared he would take no disciples while discussing The Old Man Under the Moon.

Nameless had never even entertained the idle optimism in his delusions that a person like himself could act as a proper parent like his own master, Five Lives of Heaven. Such a thing was realistically impossible. Had the celestial realm not commanded it, he would never have taken a disciple of his own will for the rest of his life.

Nor would he have had to offer the medicinal liquor he received from the Goddess of the Moon—without even getting to pop the cap—as an apology to The Old Man Under the Moon.

However, once the command from the celestial realm fell, he had to accept it, whether by semi-force or absolute force. That was the reason he had abandoned his life of leisurely immortal play in a secluded thatched house in the mountains to live a boisterous life with a yōkai disciple who sought every opportunity to flee.

But if there was one thing that differed from what others thought, it was Nameless’s sincerity. Nameless had no intention of leaving his disciple as a mere hollow facade. If Nameless had sworn to take a yōkai as his disciple, it meant he had vowed to truly accept that yōkai as his own person.

That was the truth. This was the reason why Nameless, despite his legendary and grand temper, had never once raised a switch until now. If one is a parent, one must wait. Even if the child causes a riot, one must wait. Instead of holding a switch or exploding in oppressive anger, waiting in silence is what a being known as a parent must do. Because someday, the child will leave the parent’s embrace. Because watching over them until they develop the strength to be independent on their own is the portion a parent must fulfill.

Of course, since he was a reckless brat who had learned nothing, Nameless did not permit him to run away. He allowed him to roam only within the boundaries he had created—to the point where he inwardly wondered if it was okay to restrain him this much. As if afraid he might harm the world, or be harmed by the world, he kept him caged.

To say it again, Nameless did not know what a correct parental image was. He also didn’t really know what it meant to act as a proper master.

It was at that very point that the current problem arose.

‘If I was going to pretend not to know, I should have done it sooner.’

It was a failure. He had already asked.

And in the worst possible way, at that.

“…”

Nameless felt that he could not tell what kind of expression Chacha was making.

Until now, Nameless had tried to regard Chacha as his child. Setting aside whether that succeeded or failed, the years he spent trying to think of him as a child were not something that could be easily cast away. It was even more so because of the sincerity he had poured in. Since Nameless originally had a foul temper, the mental energy spent on his patience during that time had been immense.

And Chacha was looking at Nameless as a man.

‘Damn it.’

A taboo. A forbidden act. An immorality…

Even though no one forced him, Nameless entered a swamp of suffering of his own accord and chewed over curses internally.

In truth, the standard of regarding a master and disciple as family was quite an old one, even by the standards of ten thousand years ago. It was natural for one’s biological family to be separate, and for the most part, the comparison was only used as a metaphor for having left home. They didn’t use that metaphor because they thought of them as a real parent and a real child; it was merely a sentence that bound them together to show that they should cherish this relationship to that degree.

If there was something that could be called a problem, it was the fact that Nameless had no biological family.

To be precise, he had one once, but Nameless fled from them. So, Nameless had no family. Even if he had them, he didn’t. Having that kind of blood kin was meaningless.

Nevertheless, he desired the concept of family. He had dreamed desperately of a relationship where one chooses to become family. Therefore, Nameless could not regard “family” as a light word.

Because even now, as he looks down upon the human world as an immortal, the concept he secretly longed for was, in fact, family.

Even if he was a yōkai, once he took him as a disciple, he had made up his mind to bring him in as family. The other immortals throwing a fit? He wasn’t afraid. If Nameless made up his mind, that was the end of it. He had no interest in the opinions of others.

When Nameless gave Chacha his name, it was no different from promising to become family with him.

‘That was how it was, but…’

That didn’t mean Nameless had succeeded in regarding his disciple as a child.

During the four seasons that flowed—about one year—Chacha had grown at a terrifyingly fast pace. He was as desirable as a well-ripened grape vine, and he radiated a fresh light as a young man whom anyone would be captivated by. He was so dizzyingly attractive that one felt a sense of crisis, thinking they might be bewitched if they weren’t careful, even when he was frowning with a blunt expression.

When such a man stayed by his side, chopped firewood, tossed and turned in the next room, and plotted his escape…

He could not nonchalantly treat him as a child.

Such a thing was impossible.

“When you smile like that, do you think I can help but be erect?”

However, it seemed it was also impossible for Chacha.

As Nameless just looked down at him with a stunned face, Chacha wore a gloomy, captivating, and twisted smile.

After using polite speech as if mocking him, he grabbed Nameless’s waist with his now-large palms.

A shallow moan leaked through his teeth unconsciously.

Nameless was startled by the soft sound—one he never imagined he could produce—and his eyes went round.

Chacha delved into every detail of Nameless’s movements, not missing a single breath.

As he pressed his palm firmly against his master’s stomach, Nameless opened his lips as if gasping. A red tongue was visible between his teeth. The way he shook his head as if telling him not to do it was nothing short of lovely. Fumbling over his master’s abdomen and pressing firmly down to the pit of the stomach, Chacha laughed lowly.

“I’ve wanted to go inside here all along, Master…”

While you were playing house with that “family” nonsense.

I’ve only ever wanted to take you from the very beginning.

The sexual implication became stickily deep. A manifest truth that could no longer be evaded arrived before his eyes.

Ah, so Nameless had perhaps…

‘Was I terrified that I might be drawn to you?’

It was when Nameless was stunned by this bitter realization.

“Damn it.”

Suddenly, Chacha tried to slap his own cheek. Nameless was horrified and clung to his arm. But Chacha even went so far as to act as if he were going to slam his head against the wall. Nameless stopped the self-harm by practically hugging Chacha, but the feeling of bewilderment did not fade.

He was about to get angry and ask what he was doing, but he was beaten to the punch.

“Master, do you want to see me violate you?”

And then.

“If not, then why do you provoke me?”

The moment he looked into Chacha’s reddish-gold eyes, which looked like he was suffering to death, Nameless realized.

“Don’t touch me, Master. Because I’m trying quite hard to remain the ‘good child’ you want.”

The one who had been suppressing the time of the rampage—which Nameless had vaguely waited for, thinking it would come someday—was Chacha himself.

In other words, Chacha had been continuously suppressing the rampage by harming himself in places Nameless didn’t know about.

Why did he do that?

You, who wanted to leave my side so much, why?

He didn’t know. But he did know the only way to calm the rampage.

Demonic power is the foundation of a yōkai’s life. If one keeps suppressing it, it will end up being like strangling one’s own neck.

So, the way is…

“If I touch you, will I be violated?”

That isn’t so bad.

Whispering quietly, Nameless gave a smile as gentle as a willow tree and untied his own coat strings.

As the snow-white jacket was loosened, his fair upper body was revealed under the moonlight.

Chacha didn’t know how things were turning out, but he knew how to be greedy. Instinctively, he scanned every inch of Nameless’s body as if licking it all over. He even gripped the stomach he was mounted on with such force that veins stood out, as if he would thrust into him right this second. He turned his head away as if trying to regain his reason at the last second, but.

“Look at me.”

However, the command fell.

To Chacha, Nameless was a categorical imperative.

“Kiss me.”

There was no way he could disobey.

His head boiled with the heat of being in heat.

The young man, who was so nervous his hands were trembling, even held his breath as he slowly pressed his lips against his master’s.

Then, at some point, he began to delve in as if to swallow him whole.

As if craving.

As if clinging to the only salvation that would save him.

And the yōkai’s intuition was right.

The God of Exorcism, Nameless.

Since his body is the essence and symbol of purification…

If there were an evil he could not purify, it could not be dismantled anywhere else in the world.

If Chacha could be saved.

The answer was only Nameless.