Chapter 145

The moment Taemuk saw it, his eyes flashed. It was that look again—

the gaze of a predator before its prey.

A gaze steeped in craving, in hunger, in every kind of desire and want.

But Hoeun felt no fear.

If anything, he felt relief.

So it’s enough… he won’t be able to refuse me now,

he thought, a faint victorious smile tugging at his lips. Surely Taemuk would finally cast aside the last of his restraint and take him.

But instead—

With a trembling hand, Taemuk gathered Hoeun’s loosened clothing and closed it over him, pressing out each syllable as if swallowing fire.

“Hoeun. No.”

“……”

At those words, Hoeun’s eyes went hollow.

He says my name so gently—right now?

After holding back so long, he chooses this moment?

It wasn’t comforting.

It made everything worse.

It was infuriating.

It felt unfair.

His large eyes welled with tears. Taemuk saw that trembling brim of water, and the muscles of his neck jerked violently as if something inside him would burst through his skin. He slowly closed his eyes tight, then opened them again, releasing Hoeun’s clothing as he pushed himself upright.

“I have to go.”

As his broad frame eclipsed the lantern, the entire tent dimmed into black. Hoeun’s pale face darkened along with it. Taemuk did not look back. He kept his stare locked ahead, as if turning around were forbidden.

He was just reaching the tent flap when—

“Don’t… go.”

A soft, wet voice trickled out.

Taemuk’s body stopped cold.

Hoeun pleaded to his unmoving back:

“I won’t ask for anything.

So… don’t go.

Stay… stay with me… please…”

Again, Taemuk said nothing. He didn’t move.

But his fist—his tightly bound fist—was shuddering violently.

Blood seeped between his knuckles.

He had clenched so hard that his nails pierced into his own palm.

And yet he felt none of that pain.

All his senses, every nerve, every instinct—

they were drowning in Hoeun.

The sound of Hoeun’s breath.

The whisper of his eyelashes blinking.

The patter of his tears hitting the bedding.

The faint tack of his lips parting and closing as he spoke or breathed.

The quiet slide of his tongue inside his mouth.

The swallow of gathered saliva.

These sounds filled Taemuk’s ears completely.

He felt like he might drown in Hoeun.

No—he wanted to drown.

He wanted to crush himself into that small, fragile body until nothing of him remained.

But even if he did—

it would not be enough.

In this state of unreasoning hunger, he would devour him—

tear at his flesh, his blood, the soft bones beneath.

He would destroy him.

He had to leave.

He could not hesitate.

If he lingered even a breath longer, he would kill him.

He tightened his jaw and lifted the tent flap again—

“Ah…”

Hoeun’s faint whimper escaped as his body slanted and collapsed sideways.

Dizziness hit him. Just lying down had been enough to leave him panting; wrestling with Taemuk had been far beyond his strength.

Heat rose from within him, while his limbs trembled with cold.

And through it all, the grief of Taemuk leaving made tears spill endlessly down his face.

“Choi Hoeun!”

Taemuk lunged back to him. Kneeling, he cupped Hoeun’s cheek. His fever had grown even worse—still far lower than Taemuk’s cruel internal heat, yet far too high for Hoeun’s frail, thin body.

“I’ll bring the elder,” Taemuk said.

He dragged the scattered blankets over Hoeun, covering him. He began to rise—

but a small hand clutched at his sleeve.

“I’m cold.”

“……”

“Hold me… please…”

“……”

It was a hand he could have shaken off with nothing but a breath.

A touch so weak it would fall away if he merely straightened his back.

But he did not shake it off.

Perhaps he could not.

Perhaps the dark creature coiled deep inside him whispered:

He wants it.

You’ve refused enough.

If you only hold him, it will be fine.

He’s hurting.

Just hold him until he sleeps.

Only that.

It’s allowed…

Taemuk’s throat moved hard, and he lowered himself beside Hoeun.

Hoeun, half-conscious and feverish, jolted awake and immediately crawled into Taemuk’s arms, clinging tightly around his waist with what little strength he had. He smiled—softly, drunkenly—despite his tear-streaked face.

“Thank you, General… thank you…”

He pressed his brow to Taemuk’s arm in gratitude.

It was absurd—who was thanking whom?

A defenseless creature curling into the jaws of a starving beast, unafraid.

Taemuk could neither laugh nor cry.

Hoeun burrowed deeper, and Taemuk, defeated, wrapped his arms around him.

His chin touched the crown of Hoeun’s head; Hoeun’s face nestled against his throat. Their limbs interlocked; their bodies molded together until there was no space between them.

“Haah…”

Taemuk closed his eyes and tried to feel him fully—

the weight of him, the scent of him, the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his breath.

He savored each one, hoarding them inside himself.

And little by little, his body grew lighter.

The torn chaos within his organs began—slowly—to knit itself back together.

It wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

A simple embrace was a single drop of water falling into a drought-stricken wasteland.

Insufficient, painfully insufficient.

But Taemuk remembered the time before he had even this.

And so he treasured it.

He could not risk losing Hoeun.

He could not want more—not yet.

He only needed to wait a little longer.

If he could endure a single day—just one—

until he was more man than beast,

until he was certain he would not harm him—

then he would take him in his arms for real.

“Hoo…”

As Taemuk exhaled, trying desperately to quell the storm inside him, Hoeun lifted his head from where it rested beneath his jaw.

“General.”

Taemuk’s eyelids twitched, nearly trembling apart.

Even the way Hoeun said his title made his skin prickle.

Was this what it meant to have a guide—someone so sweet, so intoxicating that reason itself faltered?

Or was it simply that Hoeun was like this?

He couldn’t tell.

“…Mm.”

Taemuk lowered his lips to Hoeun’s hairline—

“Could we… would it be all right… to just kiss?”

Hoeun asked hesitantly.

Taemuk’s eyes flew open.

He looked down at Hoeun—

those huge, water-bright eyes, still not fully dry, beautiful enough to make one’s chest seize.

He could tear them out, swallow them whole, consume him entirely.

“No.”

He refused instantly.

He must not hesitate.

If he hesitated, he would agree.

If he agreed, he would break.

But Hoeun did not give up.

Fragile as he looked, he was stubborn, unyielding, tenacious.

Without fear, he tugged hard on Taemuk’s uniform and spoke with absurd, infuriating logic:

“Why not? I’m not asking for anything else.

Just a kiss—nothing more, nothing less.

You wouldn’t hurt me with only that.”

Taemuk said nothing.

“It would only be a kiss.

Even when you weren’t hurt, you kissed me often.

Why can’t you now?

If that’s forbidden, then holding my hand should be forbidden too.

And holding me like this.

Shouldn’t those also be prohibited?”

He grabbed Taemuk’s hand, then hugged his broad back, then tilted his face up as if to say, See? You can’t argue.

Taemuk dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

Hoeun was clever, but he was innocent—utterly unaware

that if Taemuk kissed him now, he might tear those plump lips apart,

rip his soft tongue clean from his mouth.

He struggled.

His gaze was already glued to the flush of Hoeun’s fever-reddened lips.

All struggle was pointless.

“General…”

Hoeun inched closer.

He stretched his neck and pressed his lips to Taemuk’s jaw—

a soft, timid touch, then pulling away.

His first time initiating a kiss, awkward and clumsy, without even a small “pop.”

But he didn’t stop.

He kept kissing—pressing tiny, desperate pecks along the sharp line of Taemuk’s jaw, then nuzzling his forehead against Taemuk’s throat.