BW C40

Chapter 40

1. On the lost ankle

Only when the sun was dipping low did Jeokudae finally manage to escape the bamboo forest. Having looked at nothing but similar-looking bamboo all day, everything before the eyes spun round and round.

Hoeun had thought that once the bamboo ended, a forest thick with trees would spread out as before. Instead, a vast sea of grasses opened up. It looked more like wasteland than mountain.

There were trees, but they were conspicuously sparse, and instead the luxuriant grass grew as tall as Hoeun’s height. The stalks were so tough and stiff that even when the wind blew, they barely swayed. It seemed hard for a person to pass, let alone a horse.

“…”

Hoeun looked around with worry.

The soldiers were very tired. They were injured in the fight in the bamboo forest and, on top of that, had not properly rested the previous night; it was only natural. If grasses like these continued on and on, they would have to sleep rough again tonight…

Hoeun turned his gaze forward. Taemuk and several soldiers were taking turns looking at the map and the compass, discussing something.

Soon the group began to move again. A few of the lead soldiers went ahead of Taemuk and cut a path with spears and swords. The grass grew long and then short, dense and then loose, rounded and then sharp.

After walking for who knew how long, when the sun had fully set and the moon had risen—

“…”

Hoeun caught a strange smell. Rather than a smell, it should be called a stench. Sour, fishy, acrid, and heavy, it made his stomach churn. It was a scent he had never encountered in his life. Without thinking, Hoeun covered his lower face with his sleeve.

But the smell only grew stronger. Eventually the tip of his nose stung, and even his eyeballs burned. Unable to bear it, Hoeun looked to Gilsang.

“What on earth is this smell…”

His look asked whether he knew the answer.

“…”

Gilsang glanced at Hoeun once but did not tell him. The other soldiers moved on in silence as well. There was no change on their faces. As if they could not smell it at all.

And when the stench reached its peak—

The tall, rising grasses dipped in places, and a field-like space appeared. Though the grass was still thick, it seemed they could pitch tents without much trouble.

And there, Hoeun found the source of the stench.

“…”

Here and there in the heaps of grass were corpses—no, rather, traces of people—strewn in disorder. It seemed the haphazardly torn and broken bodies had been left here for a long time.

Not so long as to be reduced to white bones. Enough time had passed for the flesh to rot and soften, and for bones to peek through here and there. Considering the blood everywhere and bones smashed to pieces, it seemed like the work of man-eaters.

Large and small insects swarmed over the bodies. Flies buzzed noisily in the air. Clothes soaked through with blood had rotted to a dark, dingy black.

Weapons were scattered around, and there were signs of grass being pressed down and crushed without pattern. There were even three or four monster corpses. The sight conveyed the ferocity of the fight as it had been.

Ah, what is to be done about these meaningless, heartbreaking deaths.

As Hoeun turned his head at the appalling scene, everyone simply walked into it as if nothing were amiss. Startled, Hoeun asked Gilsang,

“A-are we spending the night here?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

Hoeun could not imagine sleeping in a place like this. Not because it was disgusting, but because it was frightening. He still could not forget the man whose head had been bitten off—how could he sleep with corpses beside him? And how was he to endure this stench?

But he did not open his mouth further. It was not as if the others would sleep here because they liked it. It wasn’t that the smell truly did not reach them so they were pretending not to notice. They were simply enduring it.

So, Hoeun had to endure it as well.

The soldiers split into several groups. One group cleared away the bodies that had rotted to almost nothing; one group cut the grass and picked out stones; another group pitched tents; and another stood guard with their weapons at the ready.

Once the bodies were removed, the stench eased considerably. Or perhaps their noses had gone dull. Hoeun could not tell whether that was fortunate or unfortunate.

The soldiers who had pitched tents sat in small clusters to eat supper. Unlike usual, there was little conversation. They were exhausted. Wrapped in bandages here and there, they silently filled their bellies.

Hoeun accepted the wooden bowl Chilbok handed him and sat still without eating. He had no appetite. The after-image of the stench remained before his eyes rather than at his nose. After staring blankly for some time, he asked Dongja, who sat across from him,

“Who were the people here? Another unit, perhaps?”

Hoeun assumed the dead were soldiers. If not soldiers, what reason would they have to be in a place like this? But Dongja shook her head.

“Carriers. Nine times out of ten who die in places like this are carriers.”

“Back carriers? But… I didn’t see any loads.”

The carriers they had met in the bamboo forest had had many loads. Their bundles soaked in blood had looked like great lumps of gore. Here, there were only rusty weapons.

“They’re gone because they were taken.”

“By monsters?”

At Hoeun’s wide-eyed question, Mansu, who sat beside Dongja, gave a short laugh. Wiping a grain of rice from the corner of his mouth with his hand, he said,

“Young lord, you’re amusing. Why would man-eaters take them? People took them.”

“People?”

“Mm.”

Hoeun’s brow drew faintly together. Taken—what did that mean? Did they mean theft? However much it belonged to the dead, taking it without permission was theft.

Well, that was not strange. He had read in the papers that there were thieves who dug up graves, and thieves who killed the living and took their valuables.

But Hoeun could not believe there would be thieves in a place like this—in other words, a place crawling with monsters. Who would risk death to steal?

As he wore a puzzled expression, Gilsang, who sat nearby, supplied the answer.

“Some folks fear hunger more than they fear man-eaters.”

“Sir?”

The expression slowly washed from Hoeun’s face at his unthinking reply.

Hunger. Emptiness. Food.

Yes—man-eaters weren’t the only ones who ate. People were beings who had to eat something to live. But with nothing to eat, they combed even this wasteland swarming with monsters to steal.

“…”

Hoeun felt as if he had come upon a very great pit he had not known existed. He had known he lived in a small world, but he had not known he was this ignorant…

Hoeun stared into space with a blank face. Then, in the distance, he saw Taemuk. Cigarette in his mouth, he was striding toward the dark grassland.

Hoeun’s neck stretched long.

“The General is going somewhere again.”

“Looks like he’s going to kill man-eaters.”

“Again? But he didn’t rest even yesterday…”

Taemuk had not returned until the dawn was bright blue. And yet he was going to fight monsters again. Even for Taemuk, it must be hard. As Hoeun watched the receding figure with worry—

“The Captain can’t rest anyway.”

Dongja waved her spoon as she spoke.

“Sir?”

“Can’t rest until the man-eaters are all dead.”

“What do you mean…”

“What was it he said—whether now or later, they’ve got to be killed anyway, so better to kill them ahead of time? Something like that?”

Mansu nodded and added,

“Mm. He said since we’ll have to keep fighting until those things are gone from the world, if we kill even one more now, it’ll end even one day earlier.”

“…”

Hoeun blinked slowly. The end. The end of the man-eaters. He had never once thought of it. Unlike Taemuk, Hoeun had only just been thrown onto the battlefield; it was natural. For him, this moment was not the end but the “beginning.” But for Taemuk, it was not so.

“Will the day ever come when the man-eaters are all dead…”

“If we don’t die before then, it’ll be a blessing.”

As Mansu muttered, staring into space, Dongja snickered. At that moment, Hoeun set down the wooden bowl he was holding and sprang up. Without even straightening his rumpled cheollik, he headed straight for the grassland. Dongja tipped her chin and asked,

“Young lord, where are you going?”

“To the General.”

Hoeun remembered his tired face that dawn. The boiling heat in his hand still soaked into Hoeun’s palm. Having seen that, and knowing it, he could not just let Taemuk go alone.

But Gilsang, who had been slowly spooning up his food, shook his head.

“Best not go. If the Captain needs you, he’ll call.”

“Even so… what if something happens when he goes alone.”

“Even if it did, young master…”

Gilsang trailed off. But Hoeun could easily guess what the next words would be—“what could you do.” It was true. Hoeun could do nothing.

But even so—even so—he could at least hold Taemuk’s hand.