BW C99

Chapter 99

 

It looked as if the household had been abandoned in haste when the Shikgoes attacked. Thankfully, there were no bloodstains—but still, he worried whether the family had managed to escape.

Hoeun, chewing his potato more slowly than before, covered his mouth and asked,

“Where are the other comrades?”

“At the school. We’re meeting later at the hospital.”

“Ah… Sister Dongja and Brother Mansu—they’re all safe too, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

Though brief, Taemuk’s firm answer made Hoeun nod in relief. He bit into his potato again.

“…Jeongwoo and Jeongi are safe too.”

Taemuk added an answer to a question Hoeun hadn’t asked. Hoeun’s eyes widened. Right—just before collapsing at the church, he had begged Taemuk to take care of them. He had been so flustered, stumbling over his words, but Taemuk had remembered.

“Truly? That’s such a relief.”

Hoeun’s eyes curved into a smile, and he popped the last bit of potato into his mouth. His pale cheeks worked happily, his feet dangling from the veranda swinging as if in a dance. He looked like a delighted child.

“….”

Taemuk gazed at him quietly. Then, when Hoeun happened to glance his way, Taemuk turned his head and stuffed potato into his own mouth.

Around them, the autumn breeze stirred cool and clear.

Before leaving, Hoeun tidied the house. If the owners returned to find strangers had used it, they would surely be upset. He folded the blankets neatly, washed the basket they had used for the potatoes, and even left a little money from his pocket. The bills were damp, so he carefully flattened them out with his palm before setting them down.

When he returned to the yard—

“….”

It was empty. Just moments ago, Taemuk had been there smoking, but now he was gone. Even his military coat, which had been draped over the veranda, had disappeared.

“….”

Hoeun’s pupils shrank. He scanned the yard, small as it was, once, twice. But Taemuk was nowhere. He even checked the kitchen—nothing.

“Ah… ah…”

His heart pounded violently. His fingertips turned cold, goosebumps prickling his arms.

Taemuk’s absence meant he was alone here.

At least yesterday, Seongim and Jeongwoo had been with him. Now, he was utterly alone. If a Shikgoe appeared, he wouldn’t even have time to scream before dying.

“….”

The house, so peaceful just moments ago, suddenly felt terrifying. Perhaps a Shikgoe hid beyond the low wall, or in the barn, or behind some unopened door.

His mouth went dry. His chest heaved shallow and fast. His vision blurred—whether from dizziness or rising tears, he couldn’t tell.

Staggering—neither walking forward nor truly retreating—Hoeun suddenly snapped his head up.

He had to call Taemuk.

If he called, surely Taemuk would hear and come. Yesterday he had come. Today he would too. The thought jolted him back to clarity.

“Gen…eral.”

He called softly.

“General!”

This time, louder, with force. His voice filled the courtyard. At that moment, the gate swung open.

“What. Why.”

Taemuk appeared, face twisted in irritation.

“….”

Hoeun’s eyes flew wide. Taemuk wore his military coat unbuttoned, a cigarette unlit between his lips. Over his shoulder, a horse could be seen. He had been making ready to depart.

Before relief could even fully sink in, Hoeun rushed to him and threw himself into his arms. With all his meager strength, he clung tightly around Taemuk’s waist.

“…What’s this about.”

Taemuk’s voice was feignedly calm, but he looked down at Hoeun, clearly startled. This boy, who quibbled over even holding hands, was suddenly embracing him so fiercely. His own hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to go.

Whether aware or not, Hoeun pressed his cheek hard against Taemuk’s broad chest, clutching at his waist as he mumbled,

“Please, please don’t leave me alone…”

“….”

“Please… I beg you, don’t leave me alone…”

If he were to be left behind, he would rather die. Pathetic though it sounded, it was the truth. Yesterday, he had endured only because Seongim and Jeongwoo were there. Alone, he might have perished in the hospital already. He had surrendered to death the moment he left home.

Taemuk might see him as pitiful, weak—but he couldn’t help it. He needed this reassurance, or he felt he would shatter to pieces.

Hoeun clutched him desperately, holding on, pulling closer. Then a low voice rumbled above his crown.

“Why would I.”

Slowly, Hoeun raised his head to look at him.

“…Pardon?”

“Why would I leave you alone? What do I gain by leaving my partner behind?”

Taemuk’s face was expressionless. It wasn’t disdain at Hoeun’s trembling—just pure incomprehension at the very idea.

And that reaction—strangely—it made Hoeun happy. It meant he wouldn’t be abandoned. Dazed for a moment, he buried his face again in Taemuk’s chest.

“Yes. Because I’m your partner. So please, never leave me alone.”

He wrapped both arms even tighter around Taemuk’s waist.

“….”

Taemuk’s throat worked subtly. His breathing turned uneven. His gaze flicked left, then right, before at last he slowly lifted his hand. He was just about to return the embrace when—

“…Ah.”

Through Taemuk’s arm, Hoeun spotted a horse. A black horse, its features and eyes strikingly familiar. His horse.

He had left it behind in the hospital. He thought it dead, lost in the explosion. He had even thought of it often while fleeing. And now, here it was again, alive—it was unbelievable.

“You survived!”

Hoeun immediately broke from Taemuk’s arms and ran to the horse. His ribboned braid flew, flicking against Taemuk’s hand as he passed.

“…Hah.”

Taemuk chuckled bitterly, staring at his hand left empty in the air. Hoeun, oblivious, clung to the horse, rubbing his cheek against its neck, stroking it all over.

“Are you hurt? Did you eat? I’m so sorry I left you behind…”

His fervor made Taemuk’s brows knot deeply.

“That one…”

Clinging without restraint, embracing anything, smiling so easily… wasn’t a yangban supposed to prize dignity and principle above all? Then why was Hoeun like this? Taemuk clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Then the horse neighed loudly, its black eyes fixed on Taemuk—as though in rebuke. Taemuk’s lips twitched in a silent what. The horse neighed again, defiant.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

The sound of hooves echoed leisurely. Hoeun, holding the reins loosely, glanced sideways. Taemuk rode right beside him.

It was a first. Always before, Gilsang had been by his side, while Taemuk led from the front—seen only from behind. But now, they rode side by side. Just the two of them.

Perhaps that was why it felt almost like a stroll. Who would call a battlefield a place for strolling? And yet, that’s how it felt.

Hoeun savored the moment, even daring to wonder—someday, far in the future, when all the Shikgoes were gone, would they walk peaceful roads like this together, side by side? Unknowingly, he found himself staring at Taemuk.

“What.”

Taemuk’s eyes stayed forward.

“N-no, nothing.”

Hoeun quickly looked away, shaking his head as if to clear it. He straightened his back, took the reins properly.

But soon he slouched again. Riding with Taemuk was simply too peaceful. Since entering the town, it had been nothing but running—on horseback, on foot, always rushing. But now, they ambled.

…Ambling?

How could they be? How was this possible?

Hoeun whipped his head about, scanning alleys, the road behind.

But it was true—utterly calm. No Shikgoe in sight. No human screams. The heavy rain had washed away bloodstains, leaving only the emptiness of an abandoned village.

“There are no Shikgoes. Are you deliberately avoiding roads where they aren’t?” Hoeun asked, puzzled.

“No.”

“….”

The unexpected answer made Hoeun’s brows lift. He had assumed Taemuk, with his sharp senses, had chosen only safe paths. If not, then why no Shikgoes at all?

Hoeun stared at the empty road, humming thoughtfully, then began theorizing aloud.

“Could it be the Shikgoes hid from the rain? Do they fear water?”

Taemuk snorted.

“Shikgoes? Fear water?”

Hoeun bobbed his head.

“Yes, you’re right. That can’t be it. They pursued us even in rain. And once, we found them lurking in a ravine… Then why aren’t they here now? The only difference between yesterday and today is whether it rains or not…”

He rubbed at his chin, mulling over his theory. If he could uncover why they vanished, perhaps it would reveal their weakness. But then Taemuk said something wholly unexpected.

“I killed them all.”