All My Murim Noonas Are Obsessed With Me!-Chapter 82: Only Yuseong Exists for Me

Roselia’s POV

Cold sweat trickled down my spine as I gauged her reaction. She wasn’t buying it—not entirely. But why was I groveling? Indignation flared within me. Who had gleefully wrecked my tavern? As the owner, I had every right to kick them out. I was the victim here, and they were the culprits who’d ruined my business.

Yes, I had every reason to stand tall.

"Sir, the estimated damages to my shop from your fight with your companion today—" I began, my voice steadier.

"Come to think of it, I have a question," Shin Yuwol interrupted, her tone deceptively casual.

"...What is it?" I asked, wary.

"I’ve seen a formation that moves people to other places before..."

Flinch.

A killing intent radiated from her, her smile replaced by a chilling edge.

Shing.

Her sword was at my throat before I could blink.

Gulp.

"Blood Cult," she said, the words dripping with venom. "Are you lot remnants of the Blood Cult too?"

I’d heard of the Blood Cult—a faction the Lord had seized control of after crossing into this world. They’d nearly dominated this realm once, only to crumble after provoking an entity akin to this world’s demon king. In their desperation to rebuild, they’d summoned the Lord, who brought vampires from our world to bolster their power.

From her words, it was clear she held a deep grudge against vampires. She’d seen one use a warp gate before. In simple terms—

Damn it.

I was in deep trouble.

"S-Sir, Blood Cult? What’s that—" I stammered, feigning ignorance.

Stab.

A sickening sound cut through my words. Glancing down, I saw her sword piercing my heart.

...Fine. If I’m to die, I’ll resist until the end.

My fate was sealed, but I wouldn’t go quietly. Regeneration was futile, so I channeled magic into my palm, thrusting it forward—

Slash.

The world tilted, and darkness swallowed me. In my fading vision, one thought lingered: I’d fallen for a dangerous man.

+

"...If you’re Blood Cult remnants, I can’t let you live," Shin Yuwol said, her voice cold as she gazed at the beheaded woman on the ground.

The red glint in the manager’s eyes as she attempted one final spell was undeniable proof of her ties to the Blood Cult. As it was in the past, so it was now—Shin Yuwol showed no mercy to their kind. Sparing them wasn’t compassion; it was arrogance, carelessness. Their existence brought only suffering to this world.

"May your place be in the deepest pits of hell," she spat, her curse sharp and final before she turned away.

Han Soyeong’s voice echoed in her mind, a haunting whisper: "You’re no different from me."

No different, huh.

She hadn’t cut down the manager because of her designs on Yuseong. She did it because the woman was a Blood Cult remnant—a blight on this world. There was no personal vendetta in her actions.

So she could say with certainty: I’m not the same as Soyeong.

"..."

Stepping through the blood pooling on the floor, Shin Yuwol approached the deputy manager, who lay crumpled like a puppet with severed strings. The moment the manager died, so had she. At first, Shin Yuwol suspected a trap, but a closer look revealed no warmth in the deputy’s body. A spell binding their lives, perhaps? It was the only explanation that fit.

The Blood Cult and their cursed tricks.

Out of respect for the dead, Shin Yuwol closed the deputy’s unseeing eyes before turning from the corpse.

Squelch.

Her boots left bloody prints as she approached Yuseong, still sprawled on the floor.

Flash.

"Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him.

"Heehee..." he mumbled, a drunken giggle escaping his lips.

"...You seem fine."

To remain drunk amidst such chaos was almost admirable.

+

Shin Yuwol, Sword Empress’s POV

It would be better if Yuseong didn’t remember tonight at all. How could I even begin to explain this when he woke? While he was drunk, my dead disciple returned to life, we fought, and through some Blood Cult sorcery, she was whisked away to parts unknown. I landed nearby by sheer chance and returned swiftly, but her whereabouts remained a mystery.

My head was already spinning.

I’d sort out the details once he woke. For now, I stepped outside, catching a glimpse of my reflection in a cracked mirror by the door. My face was cold, hardened—unfamiliar even to myself.

...Haa.

It couldn’t be helped. Too much had unfolded in a single night—a bittersweet reunion and an unpleasant reckoning all at once. Part of me wished this were a dream, that I’d drunk with Yuseong, lost control, fallen asleep, and conjured this chaos in my mind.

Snicker.

As if.

I shoved the impossible thought aside, lifted Yuseong’s limp form, and stepped into the night.

"Don’t move!" a voice barked.

As expected, the streets were in disarray. With such commotion, the nearby sects couldn’t sit idly by. They’d come to investigate, at the very least. Squinting, I spotted a figure who seemed to belong to the Martial Alliance.

"I’ll explain everything at dawn," I said calmly. "Can you step aside for now?"

"Uh... well..." the figure hesitated.

"My companion is exhausted."

Despite my request, the path remained blocked. With no other choice, I released a faint pulse of internal energy and spoke again, my voice edged with authority. "Can you make way?"

Perhaps I should’ve done this from the start. The warriors scattered instantly.

"Y-Yes! Please, go ahead!" one stammered.

"Thank you. I’ll visit personally later."

Pushing through the crowd, I entered a nearby inn and settled Yuseong on my lap, his drunken haze unbroken.

...Haa.

A sweet, intoxicating scent wafted from him, tempting my senses with every breath. I’d confirmed long ago he wore no perfume—it was simply his nature. Even with my cultivation, resisting it was a struggle. How must other women feel? I understood why the manager had been so drawn to him, though it didn’t excuse her actions.

Why had I brought him to that tavern?

"You’re no different from me," Han Soyeong’s voice echoed in my mind.

Had I truly taken him there to relive that day of "treatment"? He’d chosen the tavern, yes, but I was the one who suggested it, knowing his love for alcohol.

...Haa.

I rested my neck on his shoulder, fighting the urge rising within me.

Hold it... hold it...

The temptation surged, but I quelled it with iron willpower. I couldn’t forget—I was a sinner. Even if Han Soyeong had returned, it didn’t erase my failure to guide her, which led to Yuseong’s suffering. Whether he remembered or not, that truth remained.

A sinner must atone.

I had no right to harbor feelings for him. Never—under any circumstances—could I forget that. I was different from Han Soyeong.

+

Meanwhile, at that moment—

Thud!

"Gah!"

Caught in the warp gate’s pull, Han Soyeong slammed into the ground, defenseless. With both legs severed and already collapsed, she had no chance to react. She’d never seen a warp gate before and knew nothing of its workings—even if her body were whole, she likely could’ve done little.

"Ugh..." she groaned, rubbing her head where it struck the earth, struggling to piece together what had happened.

"Well, well. Whose kin are you?" a voice called out.

Flinch.

The voice was unfamiliar, neither distinctly male nor female—an eerie, otherworldly tone. Her body reacted strangely, a tremor running through her despite her transcendence beyond humanity.

"W-Who’s there?!" she demanded, her voice sharp with alarm.

How could she stay calm when something was affecting her body for reasons she couldn’t fathom?

"Hmm. I don’t know your master, but you’re quite an insolent kin, raising your voice at me," the voice chided.

She whipped her head toward the sound. There stood a man—presumably its owner. His skin was pale as moonlight, his jet-black hair a cascade of night, and his red eyes gleamed like her own. Instinct screamed that this was no ordinary foe—and that he was tied to her revival.

"Now, why don’t you tell me? Who’s your master?" His eyes locked onto hers, a bewitching glint flickering within them.

Her mind grew hazy, drawn into his captivating presence—

"What’s this trickery?" she snapped, the sensation of her mind being tampered with sparking raw displeasure.

"...Huh?" He blinked, visibly shocked. "How did you break my charm?"

"Charm...?"

"It didn’t fail—I’m certain. Let’s try again..." His eyes gleamed once more, and the same pull washed over her.

Whoosh!

From her prone position, she hurled her sword like a dart. Whether due to poor aim or his reflexes, it grazed past his head and embedded in the wall.

Frowning, she snarled, "There’s only Yuseong for me, so stop with the weird tricks."

"...Hmm. Is it because your heart belongs to another? Even so, it shouldn’t fail..." he mused, puzzled.

"What are you even talking about?"

"Well, fine. You’re no ordinary kin, then. Congratulations, young vampire. You’ve passed the test of Varstein, Vampire Lord and Third Legion Commander of the Undying Horde."

Snap.

He flicked his fingers as he spoke, his words a cascade of gibberish. Vampires, an undying horde—she gleaned "Varstein" was his name, but the rest was incomprehensible.

Her confusion was short-lived—

Click.

"W-What...?"

"No need to lie down or crawl for a conversation—that’d be rude. It’s a small kindness, so don’t feel uneasy," he said.

Glancing down, she saw her legs—severed by Shin Yuwol—restored as if they’d never been lost. Even a divine healer would need intricate surgery for such a feat, yet this man had done it with a snap of his fingers.

"Now, sit. I have many questions." A red chair materialized before her at his words.

The more she saw, the more her eyes doubted reality. Sorcery, her mind whispered.

"Why should I... with you...?" she challenged.