Chapter 161

“Then… how exactly did the shikgoe get onto the boat?”

“No one knows, sir. Some elders said maybe they crawled on while trying to bite the fishermen… maybe the wind was lucky and blew the boats toward Busan… who knows. It’s not like we can talk to shikgoe.”

“……”

“After that day, the navy started inspecting boats thoroughly. Nothing like that happened again.”

“That’s fortunate.”

“Anyway… the creature we saw back then—”

Gilsang paused, then tapped the fan-shaped drawing Hoeun had sketched.

“It was this thing. Its antenna was huge—big enough to cover almost its whole skull plate. And maybe because of the moonlight, it shone like it was coated in gold. I remember it clearly. You saw it too, right?”

He looked at Seongim.

Seongim, lips pressed tight, nodded once with certainty.

Hoeun’s expression grew serious.

“It shone like gold…? If so, then it probably didn’t get on that boat by accident.”

“Aye… maybe not.”

“……”

“……”

Silence fell.

A shikgoe boarding a boat meant many things—that it understood what a boat was used for, that it knew humans wouldn’t suspect boats, that it used the vessel as a tool for invasion.

That placed it on par with the twin-horn type in intelligence—perhaps above.

Bad news.

The smarter the enemy, the more dangerous.

Hoeun looked down at the fan-shaped drawing and exhaled softly.

Gilsang broke the silence first.

“No other lads’ve seen one like this, right?”

“Yes. You’re the first, Sergeant.”

“Then that’s good.”

“…Pardon?”

“Means there aren’t many that smart.”

“Ah…”

Hoeun let out a light sigh.

He was right.

Based on the accounts he gathered, leaf types were most common, and the more intelligent types became rarer.

The twin-horn type, the one Hoeun considered the smartest, had only been witnessed twice—outside Ramjae.

That meant they were very few.

Hoeun nodded thoughtfully, organizing Gilsang’s words in his mind. Then he smiled faintly and thanked both him and Seongim.

“This was extremely helpful, Sergeant. Thank you for telling me.”

“Not at all.”

“And thank you as well, Seongim-nim.”

Seongim answered with a small nod.

Hoeun steadied his breath, forced a smile, and lifted the chocolate basket.

“Would you like some? I’m giving these to everyone as thanks.”

Gilsang picked out two of the bright-wrapped chocolates—

and handed both to Seongim.

Seongim raised her brows, but accepted them without protest.

After the two left, Hoeun stared at the newly drawn fan-shaped antenna.

“Fan-shaped…”

Golden.

Was it truly gold-colored?

Or did the moonlight only make it appear so?

Hoeun pressed the fountain pen against his chin again, thinking deeply.

Byeonguk, who had stepped closer, furrowed his brows as he looked at the notebook.

The room grew heavy with quiet.

Then suddenly—

A ruckus burst out beyond the door.

Loud laughter, boisterous voices, footsteps thudding so heavily the floor trembled.

If this weren’t the Jeokudae base, Hoeun might have thought a shikgoe had appeared.

“What the—”

Byeonguk stepped toward the door—

BANG!

The door flew open as if kicked off its hinges.

A sharp chill flooded the room, sweeping away the heavy atmosphere in one breath.

Hoeun flinched—

then his face brightened.

“Dongja-nim! Mansu-hyung!”

It was Dongja and Mansu.

Two familiar faces, one after the other.

Hoeun quickly stood and greeted them with a smile.

“Welcome. Did you two also come because you have something to tell me?”

But Dongja flopped onto the floor opposite the lectern and said:

“Nah. We don’t know nothin’. Just heard there’s chocolate here.”

Her face was bold and shameless enough to be impressive.

Hoeun laughed and handed over the chocolate basket.

“Here. Please help yourselves. These are the last chocolates.”

“What? Last?”

“Yes. I’ve run out.”

Dongja looked devastated, eyebrows sagging dramatically.

She scraped the basket clean and split the remaining pieces with Mansu.

Mansu accepted his share with a wide grin.

The two peeled the wrappers skillfully and popped the chocolates into their mouths.

Their cheeks twitched rhythmically as they chewed.

The four gathered around the lectern, chatting about trivial things.

In the middle of one lull, Mansu—sitting at an angle—muttered while staring at the drawings on the wooden board.

“Seeing just the shikchung heads stuck up like that… looks weirdly new.”

Dongja looked over too, narrowing her eyes sleepily.

After staring for a while and slurping her chocolate, she said:

“Y’know, I think I’ve seen something like that somewhere.”

“Course you have. We’ve killed dozens.”

Mansu replied without much thought.

Dongja tilted her head.

“Hmmm… maybe.”

Hoeun, sensing something, held out the notebook with the fan-shaped drawing.

“By any chance… have you seen something like this?”

He wasn’t expecting anything.

Out of a hundred soldiers, only Gilsang had seen this one.

But Dongja slapped her thigh loudly.

“Of course I did!”

Hoeun’s eyes widened.

His back straightened, his neck stretched forward.

“Truly? You saw this one?”

Dongja nodded, confident as ever.

“It’s a fan. Who hasn’t seen a fan?”

“……”

Hoeun’s expression slowly… drained.

Dongja sniffed inwardly.

“Why? Not a fan? Then what—gingko leaf? Ahh, roasted gingko’s good. Young master, do you like gingko nuts? Roast ’em over fire—they get real chewy.”

“Yeah, roasted gingko’s great. But if you eat too many, you’ll shit your guts out.”

Mansu cackled.

Byeonguk grimaced as if in physical pain.

Hoeun couldn’t bring himself to grimace—he just gave a helpless smile.

Later, while Hoeun wrote notes at his desk, he finally dropped the fountain pen and shook out his aching hand.

His fingers were reddened where the pen had pressed, throbbing like they were burning.

He blew softly on them—

A low voice cut through the quiet.

“How long are you planning to keep working.”

Hoeun snapped his head up.

At the door connecting to the inner room stood Taemuk—arms crossed, uniform dampened by the snow.

“Oh… General. When did you arrive?”

Hoeun stood immediately, greeting him with a warm smile.

“A while ago.”

Taemuk answered curtly.

Hoeun glanced toward the window.

Outside was pitch-black.

He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten—he’d been too absorbed in sorting the day’s information.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you coming.”

He lowered his gaze, apologetic.

Taemuk dismissed the apology with a flick of his chin toward the notebook.

“Is that really so fun.”

“Fun… isn’t the right word, but… mm.”

Hoeun looked down at the densely written page.

Fun.

He did feel something close to that—but saying so felt wrong.

This was research on shikgoe, after all—were you supposed to enjoy that?

But there was no better word for the feeling.

“Yes. I suppose… I do find it fun.”

He smiled sheepishly and nodded.

Learning was inherently enjoyable.

Even if this was about shikgoe, it was still study, still discovery—so the feeling wasn’t far off.

“……”

Taemuk stared at him quietly.

Then he shrugged off his snow-wet coat and strode forward.

He dropped the coat carelessly to the floor.

Under the thin undershirt of his yuui, the thick muscles of his chest were clearly visible.

Hoeun’s gaze slid away instinctively—

but Taemuk was already in front of him.

He raked back his wet bangs with rough fingers, then—

in one swift motion—grabbed Hoeun by the waist and lifted him onto the desk.

Hoeun’s robe and ribbons fluttered lightly in the air.

“Ah—”

Hoeun startled, eyes widening—

but quickly settled, looking at Taemuk with his usual quiet curiosity.

“Was your day peaceful? I heard you were scouting the area. You didn’t encounter shikgoe, did you?”

“……”

Taemuk didn’t respond.

Instead, he placed his hands on either side of Hoeun’s thighs and leaned down, bringing their faces close.

“……”

Hoeun waited calmly.

No urging, no impatience—just the soft blinking of those gentle eyes.

Taemuk lifted one of Hoeun’s long braids and ran his hand along it, fingers brushing upward.

Hoeun’s gaze followed the movement.

He no longer flinched when Taemuk touched his hair.

In the past, the grip had been harsh, painful.

Now, Taemuk’s touch was soft—careful, affectionate.

Hoeun’s eyes slowly relaxed, nearly closing under the gentle strokes—

And then—

“I want to suck your lips.”

Taemuk said something deeply unhelpful.