BW C12

Chapter 12

With a short sigh, Hoeun bowed to his parents.

“Father, Mother. I will go and return.”

“Yes. Return—without fail. Without fail.”

Father weighted the final syllables. Hoeun smiled as if to say he understood. He was about to mount when—

“Young master!”

Someone rushed into the yard. Hoeun’s face went white.

“Deokwoo—how…?”

It was Deokwoo, who had been admitted to the hospital. Hoeun had left him there on purpose, knowing he would insist on following if told about the front. He hadn’t even sent word of departure—how was he here?

Snorting like an angry bull, Deokwoo came on. The bandages wrapped thick around his legs made his gait creak and scrape; they were blotched with dust and dirt. He must have walked the whole distance on that ankle.

“Your clothes, young master…”

His brows knit at the sight of the cheollik. Hoeun, self-conscious, ran a hand over his chest. He wasn’t used to the outfit either; the tight waist and sleeves caught his breath.

“Is it true? You’re going to the battlefield? Now?”

Deokwoo demanded.

“Well…”

“I’m going too! I’m going!”

“Deokwoo.”

“How could you not say a word to me? You just forgot, right? Right?”

“Listen to me—”

“Just a moment. I’ll grab a few things.”

Limping across the yard, he set off. This was why it had been hidden. With a deep sigh, Hoeun caught his elbow.

“Deokwoo. I’m going alone.”

Deokwoo’s eyes went round.

“What are you saying, young master?”

“Without you. Alone.”

“That won’t happen. You’ve never so much as stepped beyond the gate without me.”

“…”

Hoeun bit his lower lip. True. He had never gone out alone. Which was exactly why he had to now.

“It’s the battlefield. You don’t have to risk your life for me.”

“Do I look like the sort to die to some damn monster? I’m Deokwoo, young master. I can lift three sacks of rice with one hand.”

“Even so—no.”

At the firm refusal, Deokwoo’s brows flared angrily—then sagged, and his whole face seemed to slide down.

“Then don’t go either, young master.”

“Deokwoo.”

“Don’t go. Stay here. Live here with me, and the master, and the mistress—just like always. Yes?”

He tugged at Hoeun’s wrist. His hand trembled. With a damp expression, Hoeun reached for that hand—

Grab. Someone seized his other wrist—a warm, soft palm. Mother.

“Yes, Euna! Don’t go! Don’t go, please?”

“Mother?”

He had never heard her raise her voice like that—or perhaps he dimly had, when Eldest Brother died. Eyes blazing, she clung to him with desperate force.

“Live with this mother instead! Don’t go. You don’t have to. What could you possibly do out there? What great disaster would come of one person not going? So don’t.”

“Mother…”

“Say it—say you won’t go. Say you’ll stay by me. Euna, quickly. Please?”

Tears welled slow in her eyes. At the sight, Father turned his head aside, hand fumbling at his own eye. With both wrists pinned, Hoeun was trapped. Mother cupped his cheek like something precious.

“What if you’re hurt? What if you bleed? What if you catch a chill? A fever? How will you sleep in the cold, when the slightest breeze gives you a cough? Please don’t go, Euna. Don’t…”

“…”

“I’m afraid, Euna. This mother is afraid… that you, that you…”

She couldn’t finish. The words beyond were too ominous to voice. As her mouth worked soundlessly, Hoeun clasped her hand tight, anchoring her wandering gaze with his own.

“I’ll be fine, Mother.”

“…”

“Not just anyone—General Lee is my Military God. The strongest in our Empire—perhaps in the world.”

“…”

“So I will neither be hurt nor die. He will protect me.”

Only now did he learn how easily he could lie. Until now, his only lies had been I’m not sick, I’m fine.

“Euna…”

Mother stamped her feet, unable to bear it. Hoeun pressed on.

“I met him yesterday. He seems a good man. He already called me… ‘my guide.’”

“…”

“He’ll cherish me. Like you and Father do. So don’t worry too much.”

Mother’s lips closed slowly. She had heard the steel in him. Father came forward—untwined their linked hands to take Mother’s in his own, and nodded to Hoeun.

“Go and return.”

He signaled to Deokwoo as well. Deokwoo stared, lips tight, then reluctantly let go.

“Then I’ll be off. Please be well.”

Hoeun bowed to his parents. Mother could not hold back; tears fell heavy. Father held her. His eyes, too, shone wet.

As a son, Hoeun could not bear to look; he turned quickly away. Before mounting, he whispered to Deokwoo,

“Protect Mother and Father.”

“…Young master.”

“And marry. Live your life now, Deokwoo—without me.”

They say there are many fine girls in Hanyang. With that, Hoeun mounted. He was not graceful; he needed Deokwoo to boost him by the waist; but at least he did not fall.

He deliberately did not look at his parents and urged the horse forward. Nureong, who had been circling with a wagging tail, left the house alongside him.

At last, passing through the gate, Hoeun drew in a deep breath.

It smelled like a new world.

1. Water layered and still 

At the hotel, Jeokudae was already arrayed to depart. Scores of soldiers stood in ordered ranks—it was a sight. Between them, flags snapped—the Taegeukgis and the red cloud banner for Jeokudae. Onlookers gathered to watch.wikipedia+3

Hoeun edged toward them. He had come, but had no idea what to do. In the dense formation, there was no place for him. No one stepped aside. Eyes slid over him, slanted with disdain.

He bit his lower lip. He felt like an uninvited guest.

He searched for Taemuk with his eyes. No matter how he looked, he didn’t see him. With that size and presence, he should have stood out at once.

Where was he…

As Hoeun fidgeted with the reins, tap-tap. A mounted soldier approached.

“You came.”

It was Gilsang. Hoeun’s face brightened at a familiar sight.

“Yes, Sergeant. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. The bed was mighty fine.”

Hoeun smiled. He couldn’t help wondering whether Taemuk had slept as well. He could still see the man’s back as he left him—more vivid, the kiss they’d shared.

Hoeun caught his lower lip between his teeth. Gilsang asked,

“Ready to head out?”

“Ah—yes.”

He nodded without thinking—then gasped softly. He turned; beside Nureong, who had followed him, stood the horse that drew the baggage cart. A household servant held its reins.

It was a mountain of luggage even at second glance. Between the spread bundles showed clothes and books—most of the bulk, of course, was medicine. Remedies for fever and chills and flu—things Hoeun took more often than meals.

If nothing else, the medicine had to come…

In an embarrassed murmur, he said,

“Th-there’s rather a lot of baggage. It would be difficult to take everything. If I could have a moment, I’ll sort—”

But Gilsang raised a hand and called out,

“Hey. Over here.”

Two men younger than Hoeun came over. At a jerk of Gilsang’s chin, they began shouldering the bundles one by one; in no time, the cart was empty. That mountain was now stacked on their backs.

Hoeun stared, astonished and flustered.

“I-it looks heavy. Wouldn’t it be better on the horses?”

“It’s fine. Carrying it moves faster.”

Now that he noticed, the others all bore loads piled like hills—thick, tough cloth; iron poles; jars; even crates with chickens or piglets. It had to be heavy, but they acted as if it were nothing.

After watching them, dazed, Hoeun signaled to the servant.

“That will be all. Tell my parents I set out well.”

“Yes, young master.”

“Thank you for coming all this way. And—don’t forget Nureong.”

“Yes. Please… return safely, young master.”

The servant said it with a solemn face. Hoeun smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He held Nureong’s gaze, seated on his haunches and looking up; he wanted to stroke his head, but didn’t trust himself to mount again if he dismounted.

“Move out!”

At Gilsang’s shout, Jeokudae began to march. The flags snapped in the wind, and the gathered crowd clapped and cheered.