BW C103

Chapter 103

 

“What is this.”

A low, sonorous voice fell upon the crown of Hoeun’s head. Tilting his face sharply upward, Hoeun gazed back at him and murmured in a quiet voice:

“There is nowhere else to hold…”

“……”

“I will grasp lightly. I shall not hinder you.”

Hoeun barely laid his hand atop Taemuk’s wrist. Even so, the bone beneath felt broad and solid, providing a striking sense of security. Something about it fit snugly to his hand, and before he knew it, he found himself absentmindedly toying with it.

In the next instant, Taemuk’s sudden breath grazed Hoeun’s nape like a sharp scratch. Startled, Hoeun quickly withdrew his hand. It seemed indeed that Taemuk was displeased. Perhaps today was not the day to attempt his “cling-to-him stratagem.” He wondered if he should have simply walked after all.

“If you fall, I shall not catch you.”

Taemuk’s voice came like a warning.

“Ah—yes, yes.”

Hoeun at once seized Taemuk’s wrist again, clutching close and keeping forward.

But Taemuk gave him no more heed. He spoke instead with the soldier riding behind, exchanging words regarding the outer defenses, the progress of the messages dispatched toward the encampments, and the precise number of refugees.

All the while, Hoeun gazed mutely ahead. Soon his eyes caught on a sign, a vertical wooden board staked into the ground not far away.

[Daehan Mugo Hospital]

It was the sort of plaque one might hang at a great gate. Staring at it, Hoeun idly turned his head toward the hospital. But then—

“……”

It was far more ruined than when he had last seen it. When leaving with Seongim, it had seemed half-standing still; now, naught but the rear wall remained upright. It looked as though a giant, or some monster, had beaten it down in furious havoc.

Had more artillery been fired since?

Tilting his head, Hoeun carefully examined the place. That was not the only strange thing. The very center of the yard lay empty, the corpses of the creatures and heaps of rubble piled only along the corners, as though someone had cleared space.

“……”

Hoeun dismissed it idly: of course they would have cleared it, since Gilsang, the soldiers of Jeokudae, and others had been buried beneath.

But along the fencing, corpses of the creatures were heaped high enough to make a mountain, each one shredded—limbs severed, torsos riven, spines hacked through. Blood still streamed from the wounds. The rain had not washed it away; instead it pooled deep across the courtyard into a lake of crimson that shivered with the gusts of wind, a grotesque sight.

Among them, one corpse drew Hoeun’s eye: that of a creature with antlers like the horns of a stag.

It was that one—the clever beast that had turned the cannon muzzle toward the hospital.

Unlike the others, its body lay within the broken structure, its torso collapsed on the ground while its helmet-like skull was wedged into the wall. The shell had been torn like a crab’s carapace. From that, it was not difficult to surmise who had slain it.

Hoeun imagined Taemuk, fighting those horrors amidst pouring rain, the hospital as his battlefield. Surely not all fell by his hand, but no doubt many had. Rain lashing, the creatures swarming, the soldiers crushed beneath rubble—his body and soul must have been sorely burdened. Hoeun could not even fathom the weight of it.

With a soundless sigh, Hoeun pressed his grip tighter upon Taemuk’s hand.

The Jeokudae pressed forward across the town and neared the eastern wall. As the gate grew closer, Hoeun found his gaze drifting back over his shoulder.

The ruins and rubble looked desolate, more so than when they arrived. At first, he had thought it merely silent. Now, knowing these streets were abandoned for good, the remnants seemed lonelier, forlorn.

“Will this place be forsaken like this?”

He asked, not expecting a reply. It was too trivial, too pointless a question—of course Taemuk would ignore it. But then, over his head, fell that low voice.

“For a time.”

Hoeun lifted his eyes.

“For a time?”

“Soon others will come.”

“Others?”

“Those without ground to claim.”

“……”

“For this is a world of many who have had their homes taken.”

“Taken…”

Hoeun echoed unconsciously. The phrasing struck him. Not that their homes were merely lost, but seized. Stolen homes, stolen land, stolen lives. Words that, even spoken softly, pressed heavy upon his chest.

“But then—this place will again be filled with creatures. Will it be… safe?”

“It will not.”

Taemuk spoke plainly, and Hoeun’s brows knit at once. His heart sank at the thought of those who would someday settle here—how many would spill their blood, forfeit their lives? But Taemuk added further:

“Which is why we must move all the more swiftly.”

“We must?”

“Yes.”

“……”

Hoeun blinked slowly. To move swiftly meant, plainly, to kill swiftly. To kill the creatures ceaselessly, thinning their swarms. Then, one day, when others came to dwell here, there would be fewer dangers. They could lay their burdens down, mend their homes, till their fields in greater safety.

At last Hoeun understood what the Jeokudae truly were—a unit whose mission was not merely the slaying of monsters, but the safeguarding of human lives through that slaughter.

“……”

Hoeun drew a deep breath, so deep it puffed out his chest. Yet it was not breath that filled him—it was a sudden sense of purpose swelling within.

Until now, throughout his flight from home, the only desire within him had been to prove his worth somehow. But now, it seemed, had come the time to bear something greater.

Breath after breath swelled within him as the gate loomed larger. Unlike before, the massive leaves of the gate stood wide open. The soldiers of Jeokudae who had arrived earlier bowed in greeting to Taemuk. With a brief nod, Taemuk spurred his horse, and the soldiers merged seamlessly back into the company.

Taemuk entered the gate first. At that moment, a mighty gale surged. Perhaps because the towering walls left only the gate open, the gusts were violent, colliding and whirling, as if shoving them onward or else striving to hold them back.

“Ugh…”

Hoeun hunched his shoulders and groaned. His thin ears fluttered wildly. The wind choked his breath, blinded his eyes. He squeezed them shut, gasping, flailing for air like one drowning.

Suddenly—breath came easier. Had they passed through already? He cracked his eyelids open. But—

“Ah…”

Darkness. Taemuk’s large hand blocked his eyes and nose, sheltering him. The wind, dashed against the back of that hand, curled past Hoeun’s face. And so he could breathe, he could see again.

Tentatively, Hoeun tilted his head and peered up. Taemuk, sensing the gaze perhaps, glanced at him sideways before lifting his chin and muttering:

“As expected. Too pampered not to make trouble.”

“……”

Before, such a remark would have scorched him with shame, mortified him, even filled him with self-loathing. But this time—none of those dark emotions stirred. Hoeun merely smiled faintly. Moments ago, the wind had felt like a typhoon. Now, beneath that hand, it was no more than a gentle breeze.

07. Destination of the March

The trees had begun their preparations for winter, casting down every last leaf, so that with each tread of hooves a brittle rustle arose. The trunks rose thick and towering, until the very fragrance of the primeval forest stung his nose.

The Jeokudae had marched the whole half-day without rest. Only by sunset did they halt briefly.

Taemuk halted where the trees were sparse and the slope lay easy. He fixed his gaze upon the silent woodland.

Watching him, Hoeun soon understood: he was listening—for the sounds of creatures. Hoeun instantly stilled his breath, unwilling for even so small a sound to hinder him.

For a time Taemuk observed. Then suddenly, he leapt down from his horse.

“General?”

Hoeun called. But Taemuk gave no reply, striding away into the trees. Hoeun hastened to dismount, of course intending to follow—

“Stay here.”

Taemuk turned back to pin him with a look. Then he flicked his eyes toward Byeonguk behind. Immediately, Byeonguk slid from his horse to stand at Hoeun’s side.

“Young master, remain here, if you please.”

“But…”

Hoeun stubbornly made to follow. More than ever, he loathed to be parted from Taemuk. Hated to be left alone. But Byeonguk straightened his shoulder, barring the way.

“He will return soon. Wait here.”

“……”

Hoeun pressed his lips tight, eyes locked upon Taemuk’s receding form. With those long strides, he vanished into the depths of the woods. Hoeun exhaled a long sigh.