BW C63

Chapter 63

Hoeun had come to after two days, but even after that he remained confined to the cot. His overtaxed body did not mend easily. He slept, woke to eat, and slept again. And for those two days, Taemuk stayed by his side. It wasn’t certain, but since he was there every time Hoeun opened his eyes, it was likely true.

And today, at last feeling a little lighter, he decided to go outside. Harried by Taemuk and then laid up sick, he had been in the very middle of the garrison without ever seeing it. He wondered how Gilsang, Dongja, and Mansu were doing. He wanted to meet the other Jeokudae soldiers as well.

Letting out a breath tinged with nerves, Hoeun checked his attire again.

He had to be neat. First impressions mattered. So he chose a green dangho, neither too dark nor too bright. It had a modest sheen, with silver thread embroidery at the edges. But lest it look too sober worn alone, he layered a pink dopo beneath it.

Only after tidying himself for quite some time was he finally able to stand at the tent entrance.

The heavy-hanging canvas moved slowly. A flat light seeped in along the bottom. Outside sounds reached him, and a subtle chill touched his skin.

Huuu…

With a breath deep enough to lift his shoulders, he swept the flap aside. Sunlight, pure white, poured in at once. Having relied only on oil lamps and lanterns inside the tent, the sun felt intensely bright.

He squinted for a moment, then managed to open his eyes.

Ah…

He couldn’t help a breath of admiration.

Since leaving the capital, Hoeun had envisioned and imagined a “garrison” countless times. Dozens of tents spread across a plain, and perhaps a hundred or so soldiers like Gilsang and Dongja gathered—that kind of garrison.

But his imagination had been crude.

Before his eyes… were soldiers numbering easily into the thousands.

He could not count them one by one, but the endless lines of tents suggested there might be even more. Each tent was so vast it felt like a world where houses were made of cloth instead of brick.

Atop the tents, Jeokudae’s red standards and the Taegeuk flag thrust up alternately, and the way they all snapped in one direction with the wind was spectacular.

Hoeun tucked his neck in slightly. The overwhelming sight gave him gooseflesh, not only up his spine but even over his cheeks.

So Taemuk led all these men—this vast force. He had long known the man was extraordinary, but today that fact came nearer than ever.

He stood dazed for a time, then moved his foot left. But he drew it back before finishing even a single step. He tried right, but that too did not carry beyond one step.

What should he do…

He wanted to look around, but had no idea where to go. He feared that if he moved rashly, he would set foot where he must not. Perhaps he should find Taemuk first—he was casting about when—

“Young master!”

A young voice called to him. He turned his head—and his face lit with a bright smile.

“Chilbok!”

Chilbok stood between the tents. Hoeun went to him in a bound. His thin body wobbled precariously. The hem of his fine hanbok fluttered like a butterfly, making him look all the more unsteady. Alarmed, Chilbok hurried to meet him with a worried face, “Ah—don’t run, you’ll fall!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Light as air. Thanks to you.”

Hoeun rose slightly onto his toes and dropped back down, as if to show he was sound.

“Thanks to me… What did I do…”

Chilbok scratched the back of his head and looked away.

“You cooked delicious food. That’s why I got well quickly.”

Since the white-stew, Hoeun had eaten many dishes—each a delicacy, all made with great care. He never scraped the bowl clean, his stomach being small, but even so, thanks to it he had found his strength again.

“N-not much. And I didn’t cook alone…”

Still avoiding his gaze, Chilbok rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand so hard it reddened like a raspberry. Finding it endearing, Hoeun laughed softly.

“Where are you going?”

“Ah, to the provisions storehouse—for salt.”

“A storehouse? There’s a storehouse here?”

“Yes. There’s an armory, an ammunition depot, and a supply storehouse.”

Chilbok rattled off the types of stores. “Hoh,” Hoeun rounded his lips. It was fascinating. True, his own home had several buildings used as storehouses, but it was still a wonder to find the same here.

“May I go with you?”

Hoeun sidled up to his side. Chilbok’s eyes went round.

“Why? Do you need something? I can fetch it.”

“No, I don’t need anything. I just thought I’d tag along and look around. If I go alone, I feel I’ll get lost…”

“…Look around? There’s something to look at here?”

Chilbok glanced about, but found nothing special. It was only natural—these were sights he saw every day. To Hoeun, however, this place was another world.

“There’s a lot to see.”

“What?”

“Everything. All of it.”

Hoeun’s eyes sparkled.

He toured the garrison with Chilbok step by step. The tents differed somewhat in size and shape; according to Chilbok, it was by rank. Naturally, Taemuk’s command tent was the largest and thickest.

There were spaces made of wood or straw instead of cloth—those were the storehouses Chilbok had mentioned. There was an armory for rifles, swords, spears, bows; an ammunition depot; and a supply store for uniforms and daily necessities.

Lastly, they looked at the provisions storehouse for rice, salted fish, kimchi, jerky, and so on; its guard was as strict as the armory. Near it were pens where dozens of pigs and chickens were kept.

Hoeun ranged through the garrison so briskly that he didn’t notice his legs aching. He met very many Jeokudae soldiers, who all looked at him as if he were a curiosity. They murmured among themselves, whispering.

Who is that noble; why is a noble here; they say he’s the Captain’s guide; ah, so that’s him—such words repeated over and over.

Hoeun, too, found them a curiosity. If only one side stared, it would be rude—but since both did, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

After he had brushed past about a hundred soldiers this way, he felt something.

“Chilbok. Is it just me, or do their looks feel somehow warm?”

The soldiers kept smiling at Hoeun. If their eyes met, they nodded, or even waved. It was a markedly different reaction from the first time he’d faced Jeokudae soldiers at the hotel’s Korean restaurant, when there had been uncomfortable remarks about diapers and the like.

Just then, as he traded an awkward smile and a nod with a soldier greeting him, Chilbok answered,

“It’s because there’s talk.”

“Talk? What kind of talk?”

“That young master doesn’t seem like a yangban.”

In an instant, Hoeun’s face went white.

“…That kind of talk is going around?”

It felt like a hole had opened in his chest. To a noble, being told he was “not like a noble” was a very severe reproach.

Acting flighty, not like a noble.

Bearing himself improperly, not like a noble.

Being rude, or weak, or useless—not like a noble.

“W-what kind of talk?”

He asked with an anxious face, and Chilbok replied,

“When Brother Gilsang was injured, you cried, saying you were sorry.”

Unexpected, but hardly less disconcerting an answer.

“That got around?”

“Yes.”

“I—I didn’t cry…”

Hoeun remembered that he had cried when Gilsang was hurt in the valley, but pretended ignorance. He didn’t want to admit it. Crying was not what a man should do. He rubbed at his eye corner with the edge of his hand, and Chilbok went on,

“And you speak politely to Dongja Sister and Mansu Hyung, but say they should speak freely to you.”

“Yes, I did.”

They were both above him in rank and in years; it was only natural.

“And you shared your precious chocolate.”

As he said it, Chilbok gripped and released his trouser pocket; it bulged.

“Well, that was just…”

“And you gave your bibimbap to Dongja Sister.”

By then, Hoeun sensed something odd.

“That kind of thing… is what got around?”

He scratched his cheek. That was what people were talking about? It was a relief it wasn’t scandal—but at the same time, they were so trivial that it felt anticlimactic. And he couldn’t see how it made him “not like a noble.”

“The talk is that young master is a good person.”

“A good person…”

“Above all, thanks to young master, the Captain has gotten much better.”

At that, a small flash struck and lodged in Hoeun’s eyes.