BW C81

Chapter 81

“W-what… what is this…”

Half the hospital had been blown away. It wasn’t only the walls—there was no floor either. Just a handspan in front of Hoeun, twisted steel beams and the jagged skeleton of the building jutted up like exposed bones, as if flesh had been stripped clean from a fish.

Beyond that frame, he could see the courtyard in its entirety. Untidy before, now it was devastation incarnate. Heaps of fallen rubble towered like hills, and among them… he saw the shapes of people. Or rather—remains of people. A hand protruding upright. A foot sticking out limply. Sometimes only vague, unrecognizable fragments.

“No…”

Hoeun crawled forward instinctively, eyes scanning the ruined grounds in desperation. But he did not see Gilsang. The spot where he’d been holding the barricade was now swarmed black with monsters.

And among them, one stood out horrifically. Enormous, with a helmet gleaming slick, almost polished—and from the brow of that helm sprouted antler-like feelers.

It held, unbelievably, a cannon. Its thick hands grasped the barrel, pointing it not outward, but inward at the hospital. Beneath the cannon lay crushed lumps of human tissue that had once been soldiers.

The picture formed quickly in Hoeun’s mind: the beast had seized the cannon mid-recoil, turned its maw around, and forced it to fire at the hospital itself. Stone, wood, and bodies alike collapsed under its explosion.

Hoeun felt his mind go cold.

A monster firing cannons. Intelligent enough, strong enough—for such a thing to exist. It should not. It could not. That way lay despair too deep to name.

But the world took no heed of his wish.

The beast with the cannon shrieked, hideous. Krrrakh! Khhhk! Krakh-krakh! Its antlers trembled, twitching violently. And as though compelled, all at once, monsters surged, pouring over the fence like a tide. They trampled the piled corpses of their own kin without pause, eyes blazing red with nothing but hunger, hunger, hunger.

At last, people in the hospital grounds saw. Panic erupted:

“Monsters! The monsters are here!”

“R-run! Run, get away!”

“The soldiers are dead!”

“No, no, please…”

“Husband, get up, get up, please!”

“Move! Out of the way!”

Some fled deeper inside, some barricaded themselves in rooms, some collapsed where they stood, weeping aloud, some dragged the corpses of the freshly killed. And all the while, monsters swept across the yard.

“….”

Hoeun also scrambled back on hands and knees, trembling. He turned belatedly to Seong-im. She, too, stood caked in dust, eyes fixed upon the yard.

But for once, her face was not expressionless. Confusion, despair, sorrow, emptiness—all layered there at once. Her eyes darted about in ceaseless search. Surely searching for Gilsang.

Hoeun, clutching Jung-woo in one arm, crawled nearer to her.

“Lady Seong-im—let’s go to the Sergeant.”

But she did not answer. Her gaze raked the courtyard, frantic. Hoeun called again and again, voice tightening.

“Lady Seong-im.”

“….”

“Lady Seong-im.”

“….”

“Lady Seong-im!”

At last, at his desperate cry, her eyes clicked slowly toward him. Hoeun stammered, fumblingly, reaching for some comfort:

“He will be fine. He’s strong. If we just find him—you can heal him. You’re his guide. You can save him.”

He wanted Gilsang alive, but even if not, all was not lost. Seong-im was here. She could restore him.

It struck Hoeun—how lucky they were to have entered the hospital after all. If buried outside under those collapsing walls, they’d have been crushed like rotten fruit. But they had survived. And because she had survived, Gilsang too could still survive.

“….”

Seong-im shifted her gaze back to the courtyard. Hoeun followed—and shuddered. The monsters now filled every inch of the yard, black as a carpet. They plucked soldiers from the rubble, biting off heads, tearing limbs, chomping torsos, blood spattering red against pallid ash. Those not quite dead shrieked in strangled agony. And every scream carried sharp and cruel, as if right next to his ears.

Some of the monsters were already breaking into the hospital. Survivors too wounded to resist were bitten apart where they lay.

“….”

Seong-im drew a deep breath that raked her scarred throat. The tendons in her neck stood out stark, taut. After several such breaths, she stooped to pick up her sword and rose to her feet at last.

Hoeun followed, clutching Jung-woo tightly, scanning around for a way down. The nearest stairwell, beside room 318, had been destroyed halfway by the blast. Still, it was partly intact—if they were careful, climbing down in gaps, they might reach the ground floor.

“The stairs—shall we try there? If we’re cautious… even falling once or twice wouldn’t be fatal, would it—”

He moved to test them, hand braced against a cracked wall. But Seong-im grasped his wrist hard.

“Why?”

He yielded easily, thinking perhaps she had found a better way. She pulled him in the opposite direction, deeper into the building. Against the flood of escaping people, she cut forward unwavering, her presence more immovable than stone.

“Is there another way down here?” Hoeun asked, rushing breathless at her side. He hadn’t seen any such passage. Had he simply missed it?

“….”

Still she gave no answer, not once looking back. Her high-bound hair swayed neat, unshaken, and in that stern back—Hoeun realized.

She was not leading him toward Gilsang.

“No…”

The truth struck him hard. He stumbled to a halt, but she dragged him on relentlessly.

“No, no—we can’t leave him. Not Sergeant Gilsang. Not like this.”

“….”

“Lady Seong-im.”

“….”

“Lady Seong-im!”

“….”

“We can’t! He needs you most right now. I’ll go alone if I must—just let me—”

Hoeun wrenched at her hand, but suddenly she wheeled, fixing him with dark, wide eyes, black as stones. Slowly, firmly—she shook her head.

Neither going to Gilsang nor letting Hoeun stay, nor letting Hoeun go alone.

“….”

The finality in her gaze emptied out his chest. His lip trembled. He didn’t even know if Gilsang was alive, yet it felt already as if he’d lost him. As if he were erased from the world. He couldn’t understand—how could she abandon him, her Military God, for a stranger like Hoeun?

Life should not be weighed against value, but if it were—what was Hoeun, helpless, compared to a warrior like Gilsang? Tenfold, a hundredfold—Gilsang mattered more.

And still—her choice was him.

“….”

Hoeun’s eyes grew red. Yet Seong-im dragged him on regardless. He dug in his heels, struggling against her grip. Their scuffle twisted into pitiful resistance. And soon Jung-woo, frightened, burst into sobs.

“Jung-woo—shh, it’s all right. Don’t cry.”

Hoeun tried to pat his back. And then—

SKRRREEAAKK!

The monster’s cry came—so close, too close. Hoeun froze. Jung-woo’s lashes glittered with tears, his little body stiff and pale.

Seong-im yanked harder, stronger, dragging him forward. He stumbled in her wake, still looking back over his shoulder.

Not out of fear of beasts—but because of Gilsang, who still lay behind.

“….”

Was he to abandon him like this? To live on while leaving him there? And not only him, but dozens of Jeokudae soldiers—faces he knew, men who’d nodded politely, smiled when they passed him. Could he just leave them to be eaten alive?

Surely Taemuk would come soon. He always did. He was a hero. He would appear like always, to save them all.

But no matter how he hoped—by the time Hoeun and Seong-im reached the end of the corridor, Taemuk had not come.