BW C105

Chapter 105

 

“So, what happened then?”

Delighted by Hoeun’s eager reaction, the two launched excitedly into their story.

“From that moment, the Captain just—just…”

“Flew,” Dongja supplied.

“Yes! That’s the word. He flew. Like a bird—no, like an eagle. I’d known he was fast, but not that fast. I never imagined a person could move like that.”

“He left his horse behind and simply dashed straight for the hospital.”

“We hurried after him, but when we arrived, he’d already slaughtered half those parasitic creatures. The blood was everywhere, splattered in every direction—red everywhere you looked.”

“And even in the middle of all that, he was tearing through the wreckage, lifting fallen walls like they were nothing…”

“One of those monsters even bit clean into his back, but I swear he didn’t so much as blink. He just kept tearing through the building with that thing clinging to him.”

“By the end of it, it looked like he was ready to lift the whole hospital off the ground.”

At that, Hoeun frowned lightly.

“But why would he lift the building?”

Was he trying to find the trapped Jeogudae soldiers? he thought. But Mansu gave him a look that said, What a foolish question.

“Why else? He was looking for you, of course.”

“……”

“In case you’d been trapped underneath.”

“Ah…”

A small breath escaped Hoeun’s lips. Yes—back then, Taemuk hadn’t known where he was. Hoeun hadn’t told anyone anything, hadn’t left behind a trace—he had simply vanished. Naturally, Taemuk must’ve thought he was buried under the debris with Gilsang and the others.

At the time, Hoeun had been too consumed by his own peril to even consider where Taemuk might be or what he was doing. Short-sighted. How narrow his view had been…

Biting down hard on his lip, Hoeun listened as Dongja continued, still breathless with excitement.

“So, after tearing through the building like that, he found Gilsang and the rest of our people—but no sign of Seongim or you!”

“And do you know what he did next?” Mansu added dramatically.

“What… what did he do?”

Hoeun swallowed dryly, braced for some unimaginable answer. The tension curled tight in his belly. Without ceremony, Mansu drew his hand across his stomach in a grim slicing motion.

“He started cutting open the bellies of the monsters he’d slain.”

“What? Wh—why?”

“To see if they’d eaten you.”

“……”

Hoeun stopped breathing. In a flash, he recalled the shredded corpses piled about the hospital courtyard, their bellies slashed wide.

“At that time, our Captain’s face…” Mansu’s voice rasped; he smacked his lips as though the air had turned thick and bitter. He stared into the emptiness before him a while, lost in memory. Then Dongja’s voice cut in, harsh and trembling with emotion.

“Damn it, and of all things, it started raining right then—pouring like the heavens had split. The sight of him, standing there in the downpour, his face soaked, cutting open those foul things one by one—it was—”

Her words faltered. Like Mansu, she too went silent, staring into the air.

“……”

Hoeun shut his mouth. He couldn’t picture Taemuk’s face as they described it. Could he have looked sorrowful? No—that didn’t suit him. More likely, he’d been furious—that seemed truer. Furious that Hoeun had vanished, furious at himself, at the world, and the rain. Perhaps even disgusted that someone as frail and foolish as he had become his Second.

Then Dongja leaned back and said quietly,

“Maybe you can’t grasp it, being a Second yourself, but for us warlords—it feels like something inside of us rips apart if we think our Second might be dead. And your Captain, he hadn’t even known you long. Ten years he spent searching, only to finally find you—and then, to believe you might have died…”

Her rambling voice softened, and just as suddenly, she reached out and gave Mansu’s back a pat.

“I’m not dead,” he quipped, lifting his brows with a roguish smirk. Dongja laughed through her teeth.

Then—

“I owe you all an apology,” came a low, stifled voice.

It was Gilsang, who had been silent until then, chewing his rice ball.

“Oh, stop that,” Mansu said, smacking Gilsang on the back. “What, you think it was your fault? Who could’ve guessed those things could fire cannons?”

But Gilsang’s dark face did not brighten. Seongim gently laid her hand over his knuckles in quiet comfort.

A beat passed. Then Dongja took another hearty bite of her rice ball, swallowed, and grinned again, clearly eager to continue.

“So of course we joined in, cutting open the monsters along with him. But no matter how much we searched, we couldn’t find you anywhere. And you know, your clothes are much too fine—not something you’d miss no matter how torn or dirty. But nothing.”

“Then the Captain started tearing through the whole town,” Mansu said. “Every time he met another of those creatures—bang! Crash! Slam!”

His fists sliced through the air like Taemuk’s own strikes.

At that, Hoeun recalled the morning’s conversation with Taemuk. When Hoeun had wondered aloud why there were no creatures left in the area, Taemuk had said:

I killed them all.

All of them. There’s none left.

He hadn’t known whether to take those words as jest or truth. But now he understood—it had been true. All of it—for his sake. The realization ached with shame.

“We followed him through every street of the town,” Mansu went on, “and still couldn’t spot you anywhere.”

“It was that damned rain,” Dongja cursed. “No tracks, no sound—the downpour swallowed everything.”

“Yeah, exactly. If not for that infernal rain, the Captain would’ve found you much sooner.”

They both inveighed against the rain, but Hoeun felt their words strike more like scolding meant for him. His shoulders drew inward, and his head bowed low.

“I… didn’t know the General’s hearing was so keen. Had I known, I would’ve called out to him much earlier…”

Seeing his downcast look, Gilsang cleared his throat, offering what comfort he could.

“Well, sir, the Captain can’t hear things from miles away. He’s got to be nearby, within a certain range. If you’d just shouted blindly, those parasite beasts would’ve heard and come instead.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Otherwise, Seongim here would’ve told you to yell long before.”

“Ah…”

“When you did call out that time, the Captain happened to be near, and the church—well, sound travels well in places like that. That’s why he reached you exactly when he did.”

“I see…”

Hoeun nodded faintly. True enough—had it been possible, Seongim would have urged him to shout sooner. And during that chaos, when the creatures battered the church walls and the noise thundered around, Taemuk had not come. The rain, the distance—it all made sense.

He had believed so earnestly that calling out would summon Taemuk on the spot, just like that. Looking back now, he felt foolish for ever thinking it.

“……”

He pictured again the moment Taemuk had appeared—crashing through the church window, cutting the beast down in one breath, looking at him, gasping for air, saying, ‘I don’t think I was late.’

He had truly run himself breathless to reach him. And what had Hoeun done in return? Complained that he was late, pouted like a child. Fool. Utter fool.

With a sigh full of remorse, he let his breath fall heavy—when suddenly Dongja flashed a grin full of teeth.

“But what came after—that’s the real fun part.”

“Fun…?”

Startled by the word, Hoeun blinked in confusion. Dongja scooted closer with a conspiratorial air.

“We couldn’t keep up with the Captain, so we got to the church a bit later. By then, he was walking out carrying you in his arms.”

At that, Mansu leaned in as well, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as if afraid Taemuk might overhear from somewhere beyond the woods.

“And then the Captain’s shouting—‘He’s cold! Fetch the medics! Find somewhere warm! Bring blankets! Bring clothes!’—making all this fuss.”

“The General said that?”

“He did. So I brought him some clothes. Not that we had much—more like rags, really. All yellowed and worn.”

“……”

“But then he takes one look and just scowls—says, ‘You think he’s going to wear that? Go find something decent, proper clothes.’ Got all sharp with me.”

“……”

“I swear to you, I’ve stolen his dinner once or twice, even nicked his wine, and he never once snapped—at least not seriously. But this time? Just for bringing the wrong clothes—he ripped right into me.”

Mansu rattled the words like an anxious drum, then stuck out his lower lip, sulking.

Somehow, Hoeun found himself scratching awkwardly at his nape, guilty without knowing why.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Mansu waved it off at once.

“Nothing to apologize for. I really did bring rags that time. Truly awful things—didn’t suit you at all. Anyway, I ended up asking around and found a fabric shop still standing—grabbed what I could from there.”

“……”

“And he was so particular about it, you wouldn’t believe.”

“……”

“Said this cloth was too rough, that one too thin for the weather, another too dull in color… Hah! I never knew our Captain could be so damned finicky.”