Chapter 160

Taemuk fell silent.

He had known, vaguely, that shikgoe had different antenna shapes.

He had also known—again, only vaguely—that the larger and more elaborate the shape, the more intelligent the creature tended to be.

But he had never organized that information.

He had never realized the shapes were consistent enough to be named.

And, well—he was not the type to sit in a chair and sketch things out.

Tearing off shikgoe skull plates and collecting them would’ve suited him far better; anything involving writing made his skin crawl.

Whenever he was forced to deal with the written word, irritation rose so sharply he was reminded—ah yes, I am indeed a lowborn man.

At that moment, Hoeun suddenly turned around.

“Ah—do you remember the antenna of the leader shikgoe from that village? Is it one of these?”

“……”

Taemuk blinked slowly.

He was about to point at the leaf-shaped one—

—but Hoeun pointed to it first.

“Was it this one?”

Taemuk’s expression wrinkled slightly.

“Why do you think so.”

“When I watched from atop the fortress wall, the creatures didn’t seem particularly intelligent. They bit at anything that moved, didn’t act in formation. That means the leader shikgoe wasn’t giving organized commands through its antenna.”

“……”

“Am I correct?”

Taemuk scratched his brow with an ambiguous look.

He glanced between Hoeun and the drawings—

—and then breathed out a quiet sound of admiration.

“You’re smart.”

Hoeun was a noble.

A noble among nobles, raised in a household with generations of court access.

Taemuk had assumed he’d be educated, sure—

—but not this sharp.

To remember things at a glance, to explain clearly, to think in structured steps… what did they call this?

Ah. A prodigy.

“…Pardon?”

Hoeun stiffened instantly at the unexpected compliment.

Even his breathing halted.

His eyes rolled about for a moment before he shook his head frantically.

“Ah—no, no. It’s just—um—everyone else is busy and I’m always idle, so I thought I should try doing something. It’s only my own thoughts. It’s really not anything deserving of praise.”

Flustered, Hoeun turned his upper body away, unable to meet Taemuk’s gaze.

He fiddled nervously with the corner of his notebook.

Taemuk reached forward and lifted Hoeun’s chin, guiding his face upward.

Their gazes met—reversed, close.

“Take praise as praise.”

“……”

“You did well.”

Hoeun blinked slowly—once, twice.

Then his eyes curled into a shy, gentle smile.

“Yes. Thank you.”

A flush warmed his white cheeks.

He bit his lower lip lightly, overwhelmed with bashfulness.

While watching him, Taemuk leaned down and sucked on Hoeun’s lips—once, then twice, then a third time because he wasn’t satisfied.

Hoeun giggled like it tickled.

“Draw another one. Show me the others too.”

Taemuk released his chin carefully.

Hoeun’s eyes widened.

“…Truly? Will this be helpful?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll fetch new paper.”

Hoeun rose with an excited expression and scampered to the next room like a squirrel.

Rustling sounds followed—the shuffling of papers, drawers sliding.

Even his breathing sounded unusually buoyant.

Taemuk listened to that light, happy noise… and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

But when his gaze dropped to the antenna sketches in Hoeun’s notebook, his expression slowly hardened.

12. The Soft, Falling Feeling

“Thank you for telling me.”

Hoeun bowed deeply in gratitude.

Then he picked up a chocolate from the basket and offered it to the soldier sitting across from him.

The soldier, sitting opposite the lectern, bowed as well and accepted it with both hands.

“No problem, young master. I just ran my mouth, is all. If ya need anything else, holler.”

After the soldier left, Hoeun immediately began recording everything he’d said.

The fine fountain pen—one his father had once bought him—moved swiftly across the page.

For the past three days, Hoeun had been interviewing soldiers of the Jeokudae, gathering information about shikgoe.

He asked who had ever seen antenna-bearing shikgoe, what shapes they’d witnessed, what characteristics they’d observed, and where each encounter had occurred.

He had met over a hundred soldiers in three days—

and collected just as many details.

As he had suspected, the larger and more elaborate the antenna, the more intelligent and destructive the shikgoe.

But how the creatures were born or grew remained completely unknown.

All the soldiers had lived ordinary lives in their hometowns—until shikgoe suddenly appeared and destroyed everything.

“Hmm…”

Hoeun pressed the back of his fountain pen against his chin as he flipped through his notebook.

He glanced at the door.

Byeonguk was standing there—assigned to him by Taemuk because he was the “most educated one” in the Jeokudae—and had been helping him gather data.

Hoeun signaled with his eyes.

Byeonguk nodded and opened the door.

“Call in the next ones.”

Beside Byeonguk hung a wooden board, where Hoeun had attached large drawings—one antenna per sheet.

Soon the next pair of soldiers entered.

Hoeun stood up with a bright smile.

“Sergeant! Seongim-nim!”

It was Gilsang and Seongim.

“Greetings, young master.”

“……”

Both bowed.

Hoeun bowed back politely.

After exchanging brief greetings, the three sat down.

Byeonguk remained standing behind them.

“What brings you here? Do you have something to share about antenna shikgoe?”

Hoeun asked, face alight with excitement.

Gilsang nodded.

“Yes. I came because I’ve seen one.”

“What kind of shikgoe was it?”

Hoeun pushed forward the drawings he had made.

But Gilsang shook his head.

“None of these.”

“…None?”

Hoeun’s eyes widened—no one had said that before.

Every soldier until now had been able to choose one from his drawings.

“Are you sure? Didn’t you see wrong?”

Byeonguk frowned as he questioned.

Gilsang replied firmly:

“I didn’t see wrong. How could I forget? It was the day Seongim’s neck got bitten.”

He looked at Seongim’s neck.

Hoeun followed his gaze.

A large scar carved across her neck.

Seongim touched it absently, as if recalling something heavy.

Hoeun flipped to a blank page.

“Could you describe the shape?”

“It was a circle. A circle sliced in half horizontally. Like a half-moon… or a fan shape. The edge was jagged—sharp and uneven.”

Following Gilsang’s description, Hoeun sketched.

A half-moon, similar to a fan.

Jagged at the top.

It didn’t take long to complete.

He showed it to Gilsang.

“Was it like this?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

“Where and how did you encounter it?”

Hoeun leaned forward slightly, ready to write.

Gilsang inhaled deeply—and began.

“You know Busan was breached once, right?”

“Busan?”

“Yes. Seongim and I are both from Busan. We grew up in the same neighborhood—friends since we were little.”

“I see. But Busan… isn’t it as fortified as Hanyang?”

Busan was the second most important region after Hanyang in the Empire.

A major population center, with high walls, powerful generals, a massive port, and strong naval forces.

Hoeun had never heard of Busan falling to shikgoe.

It was almost unimaginable.

“You’re right. But when Seongim and I were not yet ten, shikchoong attacked once.”

“Shikchoong…?”

“Yes. Not enough to take the entire city, but enough to cause a massacre. They came in the dead of night. A lot of people died. Our neighborhood was close by—that’s how Seongim’s neck ended up like this.”

“…How could something like that…”

“We didn’t know the details back then. But later we heard from adults—they came by boat.”

Hoeun blinked.

“…Boat?”

“Yes. They stole fishing boats from somewhere and came in from the sea.”

“That’s…”

“Weird, right? A few had appeared on beaches before, but very rarely. Our navy’s been strong since the old days, you know. Whenever foreign pirates acted up—our navy crushed them. The sea was well-guarded.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“But after the fall of Wa, there wasn’t much need to guard boats. Especially fishing boats. Who would imagine shikchoong boarding a fishing boat? If you see a boat floating offshore, you assume fishermen.”

Hoeun nodded, leaning subtly toward Gilsang.

Completely absorbed.