MTLNOVEL Chapter 38 - Obsessive Compulsion
Chapter 38: Obsessive Compulsion
Upon deeper reflection, I realized that my situation was far more dire than the nightmare had suggested.
The fact that my obsessive-compulsive symptoms targeted martial arts, not just handwriting, was especially concerning.
Perfecting one’s handwriting?
While standards of ‘perfection’ vary from person to person, most people have an ideal writing style in their minds.
From my modern perspective, it’s like aiming for the precision of standard computer fonts—like Gulim, Batang, or Gungsuh.
Achieving that level of precision would require considerable effort, but—
‘Compared to martial arts, that’s nothing more than a child’s play.’
The Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, in particular, had an impossibly high ceiling.
The Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword consisted of twenty-two forms and I’d only mastered fourteen of them. Yet its simplicity was deceptive.
Each form of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword was closer to concepts rather than clearly defined movements.
Let’s take a look at the first form of the Demonic Art, the Soul-Departing Sword. It was a simultaneous offensive and defensive maneuver, executed when drawing the sword to strike or block a surprise attack.
The concept itself was the Soul-Departing Sword.
It doesn’t matter if I step back and swing horizontally as I draw my sword, or thrust forward as I advance. Both were the Soul-Departing Sword. The sword departed from the sheathe to sever the enemy’s neck, hence soul-departing.
The same principle applied to Soul-Cutting Flash and Soul-Guiding Sword.
Soul-Cutting Flash was a concise and rapid thrust, but thrusting itself could be aimed at the opponent’s head, their feet, or their heart.
Although classified as the same thrust, the detailed movements were fundamentally different. A thrust aimed high at the head differed fundamentally from one aimed low at the feet. Thus, a single Soul-Cutting Flash could manifest in dozens, even hundreds, of variations depending on its application.
Then there was the Soul-Guiding Sword which started from the same stance as the Soul-Cutting Flash but slower in movement. It was a technique aimed at creating openings by changing the sword’s path mid-thrust and exploiting that very opening.
The Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, therefore, wasn’t about fixed movements but rather taught concepts about thrusting, cutting, and defense, allowing each form to be applied in dozens of different variations.
The real issue lay in the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword’s true essence, its ultimate goal.
The Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword was a sword style where all forms flowed continuously, gradually cornering the opponent and draining their spirit.
Fourteen stances, each with countless variations, had to flow seamlessly into one another, regardless of order.
Taking all that into account, the number of possible combinations exceeded tens of thousands.
And I was to make all of that perfect.
‘This is a perfect recipe for madness.’
Perhaps the side effect was intentionally designed to achieve that impossibly high standard.
By forcing an obsessive pursuit of perfection, it drove practitioners to master this unreasonable technique through sheer, compulsive, madness-fueled dedication.
But right now, understanding the true nature of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword wasn’t the most pressing issue.
The problem was my growing mastery of it.
“Ha.”
Hours bled into one another in a blur of motion. By the time I stopped, my limbs trembled with exhaustion.
“Are you alright, Young Master?”
Jin Hayeon, who had been observing, spoke as I finally ceased my practice.
“I should rest for today.”
“That’s a wise decision. It’s already past the Hour of the Pig (9-11 PM). You should rest for tomorrow.”
After saying this, Jin Hayeon prepared warm water for my bath.
After a refreshing shower and a soothing soak, a wave of exhaustion washed over my body which had been swinging the sword for hours under obsessive compulsion. My whole body screamed at me to collapse onto the bed and pass out immediately.
“…”
But as I entered my room, I froze—unsure of what I’m supposed to do in my current situation.
My body craved the bed, but my gaze remained fixed on a certain spot.
—I need to write in my diary before sleeping.
—It’s part of my daily routine
—I need to perfect my handwriting.
It was as if those voices were echoing in my mind.
* * *
Early the next morning.
Jin Hayeon, who brought breakfast, asked with her usual stoic expression.
“Are you alright, Young Master? You look exhausted.
As she said, I felt like I was dying from exhaustion. It must have been visible on my face.
“I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
I had tried to ignore the diary and sleep. I even managed to drag myself to bed. However—
‘Thoughts of unfinished tasks kept appearing in my mind, making it impossible to fall asleep.’
In the end, I gave up and could only fall asleep after writing in my diary.
It was a torturous experience.
—This damned Demonic Art!
—I’m dying of exhaustion, yet, why the fuck am I writing in this damned diary at this hour?
—My hands kept shaking, my writing looked dog shit! Motherfucker, I need to fix this!
—Sleep, you bastard! SLEEEEP!
I was writing about the side effects of the Demonic Art in my diary, because of the side effects of the Demonic Art itself.
The irony was maddening. I barely managed to sleep after furiously writing like a madman.
And now I had woken up after barely four hours of sleep.
Jin Hayeon, who had been quietly listening to my complaints, furrowed her delicate brow in thought before making an unexpected suggestion.
“Why don’t you ask Warrior Kwan about this?”
“Warrior Kwan?”
She was referring to Kwan Mu-yeol, one of my two recently assigned bodyguards
However, I couldn’t understand why he was being brought up here.
Responding to my confusion, Jin Hayeon answered in her characteristically blunt manner.
“From what I know, Warrior Kwan also practices Demonic Art with side effects similar to yours.”
“!!!”
“His level is also higher than yours, so he probably knows some ways to control the side effects.”
“That’s a brilliant idea!”
It felt like a lifeline had been thrown down while the sky was falling.
I quickly summoned Kwan Mu-yeol to my room.
“Is there a problem?” Kwan Mu-yeol asked in a tone as stoic as Jin Hayeon’s, and I briefly explained what had happened last night and about the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword before asking.
“I heard from Miss Jin that you also experience similar side effects. Is that true?”
“Though slightly different, I do suffer from obsessive compulsion.”
“How do you cope with them?”
In response to my question, Kwan Mu-yeol frowned and countered.
“Since these side effects help you improve with the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword, is there really a need to think about them so negatively?”
This was typical thinking for those obsessed with martial arts.
Actually, he had a point.
Perfectionism wasn’t always negative. The compulsion was stressful, yes, but the sense of accomplishment from a perfectly completed task was immense.
‘It was the same when I was practicing the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword yesterday.’
The compulsive repetition was grueling, but the sense of accomplishment after correcting flaws was exhilarating.
That’s why I became more deeply immersed in the sword, and why the obsessive symptoms worsened.
But I didn’t want to live like that. My dream was to laze and feast, not grind myself into madness.
However, since I couldn’t reveal my dream here, I decided to subtly push my reasoning.
“Look, martial arts is a long road, isn’t it? Overdoing it for fast gains just leaves you useless the next day. There’s a need to know when to start and when to stop.”
Seemingly convinced by my logic, Kwan Mu-yeol pondered for a moment before saying, “The simplest method is to create a conflicting compulsion.”
“???”
Seeing my confusion, he elaborated. “Miss Jin told me you were already very strict with your daily schedule, even before the side effects appeared.”
“…”
I had thought it was natural as a student, but now I realize others might see this as obsessive too.
“If you develop a true compulsion with that schedule, it will prevent you from excessive training. The satisfaction of adhering to the schedule will conflict with the guilt of interrupting training, allowing you to stop, albeit with some unease.”
He spoke as if recounting a personal experience.
‘Fight poison with poison, huh?’
Using compulsion to block compulsion—it sounded absurd, but also somewhat plausible.
Especially since the person saying this was speaking from experience.
Though I had gained some useful information, I still had questions, so I asked Kwan Mu-yeol further.
“What if that fails? What if external circumstances prevent you from fulfilling your compulsion?”
As I asked, a specific example came to mind.
“Like our trip to Kuqa and Hejing Counties. My injury prevented your training, as Master instructed.”
Kwan Mu-yeol’s expression soured at the memory.
His previous fussiness now made sense. It wasn’t mere personality, but a manifestation of his deeper obsession.
More precisely, it was the self-loathing from not being able to perfectly follow Master’s instructions. And the fact that I was the cause of that self-loathing.
‘This isn’t just his problem anymore.’
What if, during the height of my madness, someone intervened and stopped me from swinging my sword?
‘While I might be fine now, once my level increases, I might foam at the mouth and have a seizure.’
When this thought occurred to me, my impression of Kwan Mu-yeol changed.
‘He actually endured that.’
If it were me, I’d have likely dragged him out to train or rampaged like Eldest Brother.
I hadn’t sympathized with him at all before, but now that I was suffering from compulsions, I could understand him a little.
It reminded me of stories I’d heard in modern times, tales of CEOs from major foreign companies known for their perfectionism who acted like psychopaths toward their colleagues and subordinates.
I used to dismiss those CEOs as crazy, but now I suspect their behavior stemmed from compulsions like this, not just greed.
However, that didn’t mean I wanted to become like them. That’s why Kwan Mu-yeol’s coping mechanism intrigued me. How did he deal with the crushing guilt of failing to satisfy his compulsions?
Meeting my expectant gaze, he hesitated, his face contorted in a grimace before cautiously answering.
“When the guilt becomes unbearable… I punish myself.”
For some reason, Kwan Mu-yeol’s face flushed red and a dreamy expression showed on his face.
“!?”
That creepy sight conjured a disturbing scene in my mind.
The image of Kwan Mu-yeol crying out ‘I’m a bad boy! Please punish me!’ while a woman holding a whip stood over him.
‘Damn. The Demonic Cult is truly demonic after all.’
Despite his seemingly normal facade, he was a Demonic Cultist through and through.
“And recently… Ah. Never mind.”
Kwan Mu-yeol, who was about to say something more, hesitated and trailed off.
“There’s a new method I’ve been trying, but it’s not yet reliable. I’ll share it later.”
“…I understand.”
For some reason, it felt like I was about to see something that would scar my pure mind, so I wisely gave up on pressing the issue.
* * *
While the last part wasn’t very helpful, I still gained something from the conversation with Kwan Mu-yeol.
‘Endure with conflicting obsessions.’
By obsessing over my daily schedule, I could prevent myself from training to the point of collapse.
It seemed like a viable strategy, albeit a temporary one.
A more fundamental solution was needed, as there might be situations where adhering to the schedule was impossible—another unexpected trip, for instance.
‘As for Kwan Mu-yeol’s other solution…let’s keep that as a last resort.’
It felt like crossing a line I shouldn’t cross.
I don’t want to become a pervert.
Even with a potential dominatrix right beside me—and believe me, she looked the part—it was a hard no.
Anyway, after enduring my morning lessons and martial arts training with the aforementioned expert, visitors arrived at Windrock Palace during my break, as usual.
The usual trio.
Seon-ah, Third Brother, and Hang Geon—the usual trio. But it was the person behind them that shocked me.
“You’re alive?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself.
“Pardon? What do you mean by that, Young Master?” Gu Yang-mun responded, puzzled.
“Ahem. It’s nothing. Rather, how did you end up coming together?”
Feeling guilty, I subtly changed the subject. Third Brother gave a melancholic smile.
“Haha. After hearing your story, I sought out Young Warrior Gu for a conversation about martial arts and I found him to be a very interesting young man.”
“I-Is that so?”
“No matter what I say, he always spins it positively. He didn’t offer brilliant solutions like you, youngest, but listening to him somehow eased my mind a little.”
Gu Yang-mun let out a hearty laugh. “Hahaha! How could I ever match Young Master Il-mok? I’m the one seeking his advice!”
“Huhu. Now that you mention it, we did have such a conversation.”
Third Senior Brother nudged Gu Yang-mun with his elbow, causing the latter’s expression to shift uncomfortably and hesitantly pulling something out from his sleeve.
“Ahem. Hayeon! Last time I couldn’t give this to you because the Young Masters were present yesterday, but during my recent mission…”
“From what I hear, Young Warrior Gu obtained this item with great difficulty. Take a good look at it.”
Gu Yang-mun, looking sheepish, started making advances toward Jin Hayeon, who wore a cold expression, while Third Senior Brother offered supportive fire from the side.
It was truly a bizarre sight.
‘What is this? A combination of Mr. Positive and Mr. Negative?’
Together, they embodied polar extremes—a living duality disorder.
“If it’s something you acquired with such difficulty, it rightfully belongs with Young Warrior Gu.”
Their combined effort, however, stopped dead before it could even sway Jin Hayeon.
As expected of an aspiring psychopath.