BW C79

Chapter 79

“…What?”

Byeong-uk asked reflexively, but there was no reply. Taemuk only brushed the monster’s brain matter from his shoulder with a flick of his hand, then asked coldly:

“How many rescued so far?”

“About one hundred and twenty.”

“Do you think we can pull out more?”

“…I think we’ve done as much as could be done. We practically moved the mountain itself.”

Byeong-uk cast a glance behind. Earlier, dirt, buildings, trees, and bodies had all been jumbled together in one grotesque stew. Now, they had sorted it all out—collapsed walls stacked to one side, uprooted trees elsewhere, corpses in one pile, survivors in another, and the wounded in yet another.

Taemuk gave a curt nod and started striding back to his horse.

“The shelter is no use, and the hospital is already at full capacity, you said.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the school where Dongja is?”

“Currently around one hundred are inside. Not certain, but I’d say another three hundred more could fit.”

“Then we’ll move them there. Once the civilians are secured in the school, we’ll regroup at the hospital. Prepare to depart.”

“Yes!”

Bowing his head, Byeong-uk rushed off to convey the order.

Meanwhile, Taemuk tilted his head to the sky. The horizon glowed red with streaks of gold—peaceful, beautiful, so unlike the ruin below. In that fading light, he saw Hoeun’s face. The face he remembered just before they parted, before entering this ruined town.

Eyes widening with surprise, then softening with worry as they parted ways.

No one else in this cruel world cared for him. But that weak, trembling boy had worn on his face such worry, as if he alone were entrusted to protect him.

“….”

Taemuk clenched his fist tight, then let it go. The reunion might take longer than he had anticipated… and for the first time in a long while, unease stirred in him.

—

Hoeun, meanwhile, lifted his head to watch the sunset sky, dyed deep crimson. In the hours since, monsters had continued to pour against the hospital barricades, cannons had fired three more times, yet still Taemuk did not appear. Hoeun remained where he was, perched on the stone lip of the flowerbed, clutching the child in his arms.

“….”

Casting anxious eyes toward the walls, Hoeun’s glance wandered, until it caught on a bulletin board nearby. Neatly pasted upon it were slogans and notices:

“Military Gods and guides must march to the battlefield to protect our families.”

“Report any Military God or guide evading service—rewards provided.”

“31st Bond Festival—seeking fated matches of Military Gods and guides. Guides are especially required to attend.”

“Five protocols for evacuation when monsters are sighted.”

Familiar signs—he had seen their like plastered across the capital. But among them one in particular caught his eye.

“31st Bond Festival—”

That very festival was where he and Taemuk had first met. The thought felt distant now, as though ages had passed, though in truth it had not been long at all.

Then, once again, a commotion surged along the wall. Soldiers stabbed their blades and spears through the barricade, drawing them out slick with blood. At their feet, the gush of red was pooling fast, on the verge of becoming a river. Was it only his imagination, or were the monsters growing in number?

“Has there been no word from the General yet?”

Hoeun asked softly, eyes still fixed on the wall, the question directed at Seong-im. He knew she could not answer—but still he asked.

It had been far more than half a day since parting with him, since dawn itself. The silence grew heavier by the hour, and worry gnawed ceaselessly.

He bit into his lower lip. Monsters here were clever—clever enough to use humans as bait. Had not Taemuk already faced such beasts before, already been wounded badly? What if again…? The thought sparked and stung.

It is my place to hold his hand.

It is my place to stay at his side.

It is my duty—I am his guide.

The conviction made his heart pound faster, his teeth grind down on his lip until it turned pale. And yet suddenly, a small hand lifted up from his lap, tugging gently down upon his chin. Startled, he released his biting lip and looked downward.

“….”

The child he had carried from the hospital—who until now had slept as if dead—was awake, his soft eyes open. Hoeun smiled instantly, tender.

“You’re awake. Did you sleep well? How’s the pain?”

“….”

The boy blinked slowly at him, then gave the faintest nod. Whether it meant yes, or no, or nothing at all, Hoeun chose to believe it meant he was all right.

The child’s gaze seemed dazed, hovering somewhere far away. His cheeks were still round from baby fat, but drained and wan.

After a moment’s thought, Hoeun shifted the boy with one arm, and rummaged his pouch with the other. Amidst the wad of banknotes, his fingers touched something smooth and solid. He drew it out.

“Here.”

A small coin-sized disc glimmered faintly.

“….”

The child’s eyes blinked at it, uncomprehending. Hoeun smiled faintly, rolling it in his hand, then peeled away the wrapper. Within lay a dark-brown lump, richer than soy paste.

“Chocolate.”

He revealed its name. The boy still eyed it warily.

“Chocolate is… well, a kind of candy… oh! It’s like yeot—you know what yeot is, don’t you?”

At the word yeot, the boy’s eyes lit suddenly. He seized the chocolate and shoved it into his mouth. The moment it melted upon his tongue—

“….”

His thin sparse brows lifted high, arched in astonished delight. Soon his small tongue flickered out quickly, licking and savoring, popping back in and out as he smacked lips with joy.

His twitching cheeks were too endearing. Hoeun reached and gently brushed one with his hand. Then—he felt a gaze. Seong-im.

“Would you like one too, Lady Seong-im?”

He pulled another chocolate from his pouch and offered. She shook her head. Hoeun frowned, about to put it away, then recalled how Gilsang had enjoyed them so, and pressed again. Surely she would too.

He peeled the wrapper himself and offered it once more.

“Please. Try it. It’s very good.”

After a pause, Seong-im reached out, slow and hesitant, and popped it into her mouth. Her face stayed blank—but her brows softened ever so slightly.

Hoeun’s heart swelled. Proudly, he babbled on, unprompted:

“Sergeant said there were many children here in the town. That’s why I brought these, hoping I might meet some. I’m glad I did. Don’t you think so?”

The last was to the child. He still gnawed and licked fervently, not understanding, but he nodded anyway. Hoeun laughed quietly, a little “heehee” slipping out.

In Hanyang, wealth was measured with coins—but here, strangely, nothing seemed dearer than chocolate. It had been his bridge to Dongja, to Mansu, and now today again. Perhaps that was why his parents had stuffed his luggage with so much of it.

Hoeun inhaled softly. The sharp stench of gunpowder and blood was thick all around—but with the two beside him munching chocolate, a sweet fragrance hung softly in its place.

He wiped chocolate from the boy’s lips and asked quietly:

“What’s your name?”

“….”

“You don’t have one? Your name. Na—me.”

“….”

The boy gave no answer. Had he none? Or did he simply not understand the word? Hoeun pondered how best to explain, when the boy suddenly sucked his lip and mumbled nasally:

“Park…”

“Park?”

“Park Jung-woo.”

“Jung-woo. I see. I’m Hoeun. Choi Hoeun.”

“…Hoeun.”

“Hoeun, Hoeun…” the boy repeated, muttering the name over and over. Hoeun then introduced him to Seong-im as well, and Jung-woo nodded, before returning to savor the last of his prize.

Each lick shrank the chocolate swiftly. Once a full moon, now half.

“….”

Jung-woo eyed the dwindling piece long and hard. Then, suddenly, he moved to slip it into his jacket pocket. The mess of melted chocolate smeared the cloth brown.

“Hey, no, don’t do that.”

Hoeun rushed to seize his wrist. Already the garment was filthy with blood and dirt, no need for more stains. Besides, sticky melted chocolate looked far worse. But Jung-woo fought, stubborn, trying to pull free.

“For—for my sister…”

“…Your sister?”

“I want to give it… to my sister.”

For a moment, Hoeun blinked. Then his eyes lit brightly.

“You have a sister?”

Jung-woo nodded hard.

“She’s your sister? By blood?”

Again the boy nodded firmly.

Hoeun felt the news blossom inside, unexpectedly glad. He had wondered quietly where the boy would go, how to leave him, whether he had any family left. He had held back from asking outright, fearing to rip open fresh wounds. He had suffered already too much today.

But to hear—the boy had a sister. Someone waited. Someone searching desperately for him.

Then yes—Hoeun must take him there, to her.