BW C172

Chapter 172

Hoeun sat before a brazier where the charcoal glowed a deep, ripened red. He tucked his toes in and stretched them out again, fidgeting as he leaned closer and asked in a small, almost whispering voice,

“Do you all usually sing like that? Everyone seemed so familiar with the songs……”

His cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t from washing with hot water earlier—it was because he had drunk the liquor Mansu offered him. Taemuk had told him not to, but carried away by the mood, Hoeun had stubbornly insisted on having just one cup.

“Well… sometimes,”

Taemuk replied indifferently.

He was sitting behind Hoeun, drying his damp hair. At some point, Taemuk drying Hoeun’s hair by hand had quietly become part of their routine. Hoeun had been awkward about it at first, but now he accepted Taemuk’s touch with easy familiarity.

“Do you think there’ll be another day like this?”

“Why?”

“Because I hope there will be. I really enjoyed today. It was my first time singing together with so many people.”

“……”

“Today I didn’t know the song, so I couldn’t really sing, but now that I’ve learned it, I’ll be able to sing properly next time.”

“……”

“Oh—and how is it that Mansu-hyung sings so well? His voice was so nice when he sang, it really surprised me.”

Hoeun chattered on happily, talking even when no one asked him to. At times, he absentmindedly wiggled his toes and hummed, Kwaejina ching ching nane.

Taemuk didn’t respond, but Hoeun knew he was listening.

“Today feels like a dream. No—actually, it’s felt like that since yesterday.”

Yesterday, he had received an apology from Taemuk, and had heard himself called precious. Today, Byeonguk had returned safely from a long journey, he had received his father’s letter, shared good food with everyone, and even sung together.

It was the first time Hoeun had ever experienced such loud, bustling joy. His life until now had been quiet, subdued, almost muted—so this happiness felt new, and all the more precious.

As he replayed the past days in his mind, Hoeun hugged his knees and giggled like a child.

“If every day were like this, I wouldn’t ask for anything more.”

A day without sikgwae, without pain, without suffering, without worry. Just peace. Just happiness.

Some might call it ordinary—but on a battlefield, nothing was more precious than an ordinary day.

“……”

Taemuk still didn’t answer. He wasn’t ignoring Hoeun; he was simply focused on drying his hair.

Hoeun’s hair was long, which meant it took time to dry. It was a troublesome task—but the glossy black strands were worth the trouble.

After chattering for a while, Hoeun suddenly turned around.

“And you, General?”

“What about me?”

“How was your day today?”

Taemuk paused, his hands stilling as he looked at Hoeun. Hoeun’s eyelids drooped lazily, heavy and unfocused in a way they usually weren’t. After crying until the world seemed to end—and then drinking alcohol—it was only natural.

How was today?

Taemuk thought about it.

He wasn’t sure. Hoeun’s mouth sore, his tears—there had been plenty that hadn’t been welcome. And yet…

“…I liked it too.”

It had been quite pleasant. Hoeun had smiled beside him. Smiled at him. Laughed with him. They hadn’t encountered a single cursed sikgwae, and his men had enjoyed a rare feast—tonight, they would sleep happily, patting their full bellies.

So yes. It had been a good day.

“Really?”

Hoeun seemed delighted by the answer. He smiled crookedly and turned his body fully to face Taemuk. This will make it harder to dry his hair, Taemuk thought—but he didn’t turn him back. Facing him like this felt better.

Taemuk drew Hoeun’s hair forward and slowly combed through it with his fingers as he spoke.

“I thought… maybe we could just live like this. Forget the sikgwae and everything else.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah. You and me, and those idiots outside. Eating good food, singing, drinking. Day by day, letting time pass however it wants.”

“……”

Hoeun inhaled softly. Just listening made him happy. Living like this with Taemuk—and with Dongja, Mansu, Byeonguk, Gilsang, Seongim, Chilbok, and all the others—how wonderful that would be.

But it was impossible.

Or rather, it was possible—but Hoeun knew Taemuk wasn’t that kind of person. Even if he tried to live this way, the moment someone asked for help, he would run to them. That was why Taemuk could only allow himself to think such thoughts.

Still… someday… far in the future…

Could it happen? A day when ordinary days truly became ordinary?

“That kind of day will come, won’t it? A day when all the sikgwae are gone, and people live singing every day?”

“We’ll make it come.”

Taemuk replied with his usual blank expression. It looked indifferent at first glance, but Hoeun saw much more—responsibility, weariness, longing, hope.

The face of an adult.

The face of a general.

Hoeun studied Taemuk quietly, tilting his head left, then right, scrutinizing him intently. Then he scooted closer and whispered,

“General.”

“What.”

“General.”

“What.”

“Gene-raaaal……”

“….”

At the repeated calls, Taemuk finally lifted his gaze from Hoeun’s hair. The young master, usually so composed and sparing with words, was acting strange. Is it the alcohol? he wondered.

Then Hoeun planted his hands on the floor, rose onto his knees, and leaned his face straight toward Taemuk—like a stretching cat. Taemuk instinctively pulled his chin back as Hoeun’s pretty face drew close.

Lowering his thick lashes, Hoeun whispered,

“I want to kiss you.”

“…What?”

“Let’s kiss.”

“….”

Taemuk’s steady breathing faltered. His eyes froze mid-blink as he studied Hoeun closely.

“…Are you drunk?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure.”

Hoeun’s voice was nasal and soft. He was clearly different—his slack eyelids, strange boldness, sluggish movements.

“Is it wrong to want to? You do sometimes, General.”

“That’s because—”

Because I like you.

Taemuk couldn’t bring himself to say it. He trailed off and fell silent, suddenly awkward and out of place. Hoeun’s boldness made him want to run away.

But Hoeun looked at him as if asking how long he planned to keep him waiting.

“General?”

The sweet, ticklish voice snapped Taemuk back to his senses. After a moment’s thought, he realized the hesitation was pointless.

“Yeah. It’s not that difficult.”

He tossed aside the cloth he’d been using to dry Hoeun’s hair and gently held Hoeun’s small chin, lowering his head slowly—

“Ah!”

Hoeun suddenly clapped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide like a startled squirrel. Taemuk’s lips collided with the back of Hoeun’s hand instead.

“What is it?”

Taemuk frowned. Hoeun mumbled behind his hands,

“My mouth sore—it won’t spread, will it?”

“…Is that contagious?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone while having one……”

Taemuk’s eyes narrowed. That was a strange thing to say.

“So you have kissed when you didn’t have one?”

“Of course not. Everything is my first—with you.”

Hoeun answered plainly, without hesitation.

“….”

Taemuk’s lips twitched. He nearly burst out laughing. He cleared his throat instead, refusing to lose face.

Pulling Hoeun onto his lap, he said,

“I don’t care if it’s contagious.”

“But—”

“If kissing you cures it, what does it matter? It’ll heal before anything spreads.”

“…….”

Hoeun’s big eyes blinked rapidly. Then, looking convinced, he slowly lowered his hands.

Taemuk laughed quietly at the transparent expression on his face.

Cute.

Pretty.

Precious.

He really did have everything.