BW C101

Chapter 101

 

In front of the collapsed hospital, the Jeokudae soldiers stood in formation. The fluttering Taegukgi and Jeokudae banners felt oddly heartening, and Hoeun, unable to contain himself, dashed past Taemuk straight toward the gathered crowd.

Soon, through the throng, he spotted a familiar back. Leaping off his horse, Hoeun ran toward him.

“Sergeant!”

He called out to Gilsang with the voice of a child. At the sudden cry, everyone nearby turned to look at him. Even Taemuk, following behind, was watching him.

Ordinarily, those stares would have embarrassed Hoeun enough to shrink back, but not today. Not when he was overwhelmed with joy at seeing Gilsang again.

“Ah, young master. You’ve come.”

Gilsang greeted him with a faint smile.

“Sergeant…”

Hoeun clasped both hands together without realizing it. He had heard the man was alive, but seeing it with his own eyes made his nose sting.

Gilsang was, after all, special. He had been the first Jeokudae soldier to exchange names with him, the one who had looked after him, spent much time with him, and taught him the meaning of comradeship.

As Hoeun stood there with damp eyes, Gilsang stepped closer and offered an utterly uncalled-for apology.

“I should’ve stayed by your side yesterday. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. You suffered, didn’t you?”

“No, no. Suffered what? I wasn’t even hurt. Are you all right, Sergeant?”

Hoeun spoke as he scanned Gilsang’s body with careful politeness. His face looked fine, his upper body unscathed, his arms intact. His gaze dropped lower, checking piece by piece—then froze. Something was wrong with one of Gilsang’s legs. The thigh of his uniform trousers bulged unnaturally, as though thickly bound in bandages underneath.

Hoeun’s face went ashen in an instant.

“Y-you’re injured? Your leg?”

“Ah, my thigh got a bit chewed up.”

Gilsang answered lightly. Hoeun’s face grew even paler.

“Ch-chewed up? By a Shikgoe?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll heal soon.”

“….”

Hoeun bit down on his lower lip. Always nothing, he said. But if it was nothing, why the bandages? A rebellious thought flared up inside him. It was truly painful to see someone dear to him injured. Then a sudden question struck him.

“You didn’t meet with Lady Seongim last night?”

“No, I was with her.”

“Then why is your wound still…”

When Taemuk had spent the night with him, all his injuries had vanished by morning. Shouldn’t it be the same for Gilsang? As Hoeun stared at his leg in puzzlement, Gilsang caught on and chuckled softly.

“Ah, the captain and I are different.”

“Different? What do you mean by that…?”

“The rate at which wounds heal differs from soldier to soldier. The captain just happens to heal abnormally fast.”

“Ah…”

Hoeun let out a faint sigh. He didn’t know whether it was good or bad news. It was fortunate that Taemuk healed quickly, but regrettable that Gilsang’s recovery lagged behind—that only meant he had to endure the pain longer.

Hoeun’s face was heavy with concern as he gazed at Gilsang’s thigh. To show him it was nothing, Gilsang slapped his leg once for emphasis.

“Everything else healed up already. It’s just the thigh that hasn’t closed yet. Even this will be fine by tomorrow.”

“Yes. I do hope so.”

Hoeun nodded gravely, then glanced around, clearly searching for someone.

“Lady Seongim isn’t here?”

“She’s back there, with the boy.”

Gilsang pointed toward the rear. Hoeun’s chin tucked inward in surprise.

“Boy? You have a son?”

“No, children. The boy from the church yesterday.”

“Ah.”

At once Hoeun thought of Jeongwoo and Jeongi. Were they here as well? Had they spent the night safely? Had they eaten? Curious and worried, he rose on tiptoe, craning his neck to look. Gilsang stepped aside, opening a path.

“They’ll be back there. Go see for yourself.”

“…Is it all right?”

He asked if it was proper to go alone. Gilsang arched his brows as if to say, What’s the problem?

“Everyone here’s ours. Nothing will happen. There are no more Shikgoes, and the captain’s nearby.”

His gaze flicked past Hoeun’s shoulder. Hoeun followed it. Taemuk had just dismounted at the head of the formation, surrounded by Jeokudae officers holding maps, clearly preparing to report.

Hoeun nodded slightly. With Taemuk so close, there was no need to worry.

“Then… I’ll be right back.”

He bowed deeply to Gilsang, then bolted off at a run. His still-healing feet and heels throbbed, but he didn’t feel the pain. He just wanted to see the children quickly.

Pushing through dozens of Jeokudae soldiers, he finally reached the refugees of Ramjae Town.

Hoeun rose on tiptoe, twisted his neck, bent his waist—searching for familiar faces. Then he spotted a cluster of unusually small children huddled together. Among them were Jeongwoo, Jeongi, and several little girls. Beside them stood Seongim.

Hoeun’s face bloomed with a radiant smile.

“Children!”

At his call, the children whipped their heads toward him. Their faces, too, brightened with smiles that mirrored his own.

“Young master!”

“Young master!”

They rushed to him all at once. Even Jeongi, carrying Jeongwoo in her arms, managed to run. Hoeun quickly took Jeongwoo into his embrace. The boy wrapped his arms familiarly around Hoeun’s neck. Hoeun stroked his hair gently, then crouched down to meet each child’s eyes.

“Did you sleep well? Eat? Nothing hurts?”

“No problems!”

“We slept really well!”

“We ate plenty!”

Their cheerful voices were unbearably sweet. Hoeun’s smile deepened.

“Good. And Jeongwoo’s leg?”

He looked at the boy’s bandaged leg. The wrappings were fresh, tied tightly—clearly the work of a professional. Had Seongim done it, or perhaps Gilsang? While he wondered, Jeongi spoke carefully.

“The doctor saw him this morning. He said it’s fine.”

“The doctor?”

Had the Jeokudae medics come along? Hoeun tilted his head. Jeongi pointed off into the distance. Hoeun followed her gesture.

There stood a man whose face he recognized—the very doctor who had treated Jeongwoo at the hospital, still wearing his bloodstained gown and glasses speckled with crimson then. Now, dressed more neatly, he and a nurse moved among the refugees, tending to the wounded.

Hoeun smiled faintly. It warmed his heart to know good people had survived.

He lingered, chatting with the children, then finally greeted Seongim.

“Lady Seongim, did you spend the night well?”

Wearing a neatly fastened uniform, sword in hand, her hair tied high, she nodded. Her expression showed little delight at his presence, but Hoeun kept up his gentle chatter. He knew she was a quiet soul.

“You aren’t hurt, are you? As for me, I’ve never run like that before. My legs ache, my feet too. I even got blisters.”

He tapped the ground lightly with his foot. Seongim shook her head as if to say she was fine. But suddenly, Jeongwoo peeked up from his arms, tugging insistently at his robes.

“Young master, your feet hurt? Do they hurt a lot?”

Tears welled in his clear eyes. For a boy who had had his calf torn into by a Shikgoe to worry about him—it was almost laughable. Hoeun, caught between a smile and tears, cupped his cheek gently.

“No, no. Just a joke. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Even so, Jeongwoo puffed his lips and swallowed his tears reluctantly. Hoeun, flustered, tried to comfort him.

Then a heavy presence moved behind Hoeun. It couldn’t be human. A Shikgoe? Alarmed, he clutched Jeongwoo close and spun around—only to see a cow being led by its nose-ring into the crowd of refugees.

“….”

Relief flooding him, Hoeun surveyed the people more carefully. Beyond Jeongwoo and Jeongi, there were so many of Ramjae’s townsfolk. Many were wounded; many more, though whole in body, bore faces drained of vitality.

It was natural. They had lost family, lost their homes. Hoeun had left his home, true—but he had only left. These people had lost. That grief was not something he could compare.

Exhaling through his nose, he patted Jeongwoo’s back.

“Young master, we’re leaving now.”

Gilsang appeared.

“Ah, yes.”

Hoeun nodded.

“Seongim, you too, mount your horse.”

He informed her as well. She nodded and vanished among the Jeokudae soldiers.

Hoeun returned Jeongwoo to Jeongi, then waved to the children.

“I’ll see you later.”

They waved their small hands back at him. Solemn little Jeongi even bowed while holding Jeongwoo. Hoeun turned away with regret. It wasn’t even a final farewell—so why did it hurt so much?

Even as he made his way back, Hoeun kept glancing over his shoulder. The children were chatting among themselves, bursting into laughter. Only then, reassured, did he hurry to catch up with Gilsang.