BW C114

Chapter 114

Hoeun instinctively lifted his arms to loop around Taemuk’s neck, then awkwardly lowered them again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’ve been trying to wait like a gentleman, you know.”

“Sir?”

“You’re not going to pay me for the lesson?”

“…Pay you?”

“Yes. Pay.”

“….”

Hoeun stared up at him without even blinking. Then, cautiously, he asked:

“Are you… asking for money? What should I do? I don’t have any right now…”

Taemuk was a general and no doubt received a hefty stipend, but there was no rule saying he could not also desire wealth. The idea of exchanging money between war-god and fated partner felt improper—but between master and disciple? Perhaps permissible. Yet, if proper, virtuous teacher and student… exchanging coin seemed against decorum—Hoeun was mid-thought when—

Taemuk’s face twisted entirely.

“You—do I look like some penniless beggar? You think I’d ask you for money?”

His outburst, though harsh, brought relief to Hoeun’s expression. Taemuk did not want money—thank goodness. Hoeun shook his head vehemently.

“No, sir. You said I must pay, so I simply assumed that was what you meant. Then… is there something else you desire?”

“……”

Taemuk did not answer. He merely stared at Hoeun’s pale face, then slowly ran his gaze down his entire frame, leisurely, lingeringly. Hoeun accepted the stare with a defenseless expression.

“……”

“……”

Silence stretched. Then, suddenly, Hoeun’s face tightened all over. He had realized what “payment” Taemuk wanted. He took a large step back and spoke in a voice trembling with offense:

“I am not a courtesan! Do not put a price on my body!”

“……”

Taemuk lifted one brow. He had not expected much anyway. A fine young lord raised on propriety and polish—of course he would react like this.

Clicking his tongue, Taemuk reached out—not to seize him, merely to return to camp. But before his fingers could touch him, Hoeun moved first. He stepped in close and—

Smack.

Something soft, warm, faintly moist brushed Taemuk’s jaw and withdrew. Hoeun’s lips. Taemuk looked at him as if struck by lightning—or as if lightning had exploded inside his skull.

“T-That was not payment—it was… g-gratitude.”

Hoeun bit his lower lip. Truthfully, he had wanted to touch Taemuk’s lips, but the height difference was too great. Even standing on his toes, he could not reach, and asking him to bend down felt mortifying—so he had simply lunged.

“……”

Taemuk did not respond. He only stared, unblinking. Overwhelmed by the stare, Hoeun stammered out whatever came to his tongue:

“A-And… please continue to teach me. Then I… I shall do something even better for you.”

Taemuk gave a short snort.

“You’re not putting a price on your body—you’re putting one on mine, is that it.”

Hoeun’s eyes nearly popped from his skull. He shook his head violently, waving his hands in denial.

“Wh—No! Absolutely not! How could I ever put a price on my lord—!”

“So then. What’s this ‘something better’ you’d do for me?”

“…Sir?”

“For example, would you suck my—”

“Aaah!”

At that cursed word, Hoeun slapped both hands over his ears. His face scrunched tight, features collapsing toward the center as he glared—then he suddenly bolted into the forest. It seemed he could bear not one more second beside this shameless, vulgar, dignityless man.

Taemuk burst into deep laughter. Hoeun scampering off looked like a squirrel startled by thunder. His jade ribbon whipped behind him like a tail—impossible to tell which it was.

After laughing quietly for a while, Taemuk set off after him. He ought to catch the little squirrel before he lost himself in the woods; no doubt he would run until frightened by the dark and end up sniffling pitifully.

Hands clasped behind his back, Taemuk followed the faint sounds of Hoeun ahead, unhurried.

He had spent a lifetime running, never once strolling. This was his first time walking simply to walk—and it was unexpectedly… pleasant. He thought he might like to do it again.

Just like this. With Hoeun.

The sun began to sink once more. Jeokudae and the refugees of Ramjae Town were still on the move. Hoeun drifted in and out of sleep, cradled in Taemuk’s arms.

Shame pricked him—slumped like a sick chick, nodding off atop his superior. He attempted to keep his eyes open, but his meager strength was long depleted; consciousness slipped again and again.

Whenever he sagged forward in sleep, Taemuk’s hand would support his chest. How safe that broad palm felt. After that, Hoeun stopped struggling and surrendered to slumber entirely.

Time passed. When he opened his eyes again, night had swallowed the mountain whole.

“……”

Drawn by some unseen pull, Hoeun looked up. Thick clouds smothered the moon, blanketing the world in gloom. The wind warped tree-lines into monstrous silhouettes—but he felt no fear. Taemuk was behind him. The strongest war-god in the world. Strong enough to fell Shikgoe or ghosts in a heartbeat—his war-god.

The thought warmed him; he smiled faintly and clasped Taemuk’s hand where it held the reins—

—and then a wall of pitch-black rose ahead.

At first he thought it a dense forest, so thick no moonlight could enter. But no matter how close they drew, no shape resolved. It was only when they neared that he realized it—

A wall. A massive fortress wall.

“….”

Unconsciously, Hoeun’s mouth fell open. Taemuk continued forward. The wall rose to devour even the sky, swallowing the moon whole; pitch consumed the world, blind and depthless.

Hoeun stared up at the abyssal stone. Had Hanyang’s walls been this tall? He could not recall. His home had been far from the city walls, and when he left as an iin, he had no chance to look. Regardless—this wall dwarfed that of Ramjae Town manyfold.

The stone smelled of cold earth and damp age. Hoeun breathed in, faintly unsettled but not repulsed.

Taemuk slowed. At once, Byeonguk spurred his horse to ride past him. Reaching the wall, he produced a small flashlight and pushed it into a fist-sized hole, clicking it on. Sharp white light streamed inward.

“……”

Hoeun watched curiously. Why shine light into a hole? Were there bats inside? A Shikgoe? If so, wouldn’t one throw in a grenade instead? He was mid-speculation when—

Rrrrrrumble…

The wall trembled. Then split. A gate opened, light pouring out like a blade of sun severing the night.

“Aah…”

Hoeun flinched, chin tucking as the light stabbed his eyes. He shielded his face but strained to look.

The brightness was fierce—like a sun imprisoned behind stone. Several soldiers stood silhouetted against it, opening wide the gate without interrogation.

The golden light washed across Jeokudae like a carpet—like a river of gold.

“Enter!”

Byeonguk waved them forward. Taemuk stepped into the glow, and others followed, wary in case Shikgoe might chase the light. Refugees were ushered in first.

As they approached, Hoeun craned his neck, chest leaning forward, practically wagging with anticipation. A new world—new people—he could hardly contain himself. That was when a strong arm wrapped his waist.

“Planning to fly away?”

The voice settled atop his head—Taemuk. Hoeun tilted back to look up at him.

“I am only amazed. I have never been to a town outside Hanyang. Well, Ramjae Town was one, but I saw nothing of it.”

He smiled sheepishly, face gilded gold like rare jewel. Taemuk glanced at him, then forward again, speaking offhandedly:

“Don’t show excitement in front of others.”

“Sir?”

Hoeun blinked, confused.

“……”

Taemuk did not elaborate. Hoeun blinked rapidly, replayed his words—and then breathed a small “Ah.”

The refugees would not share his excitement. They had not chosen to come. Their homes had been lost—they had fled, not journeyed. To display joy before them would be close to mockery.

Hoeun lowered his head in shame.

“My thoughts were shallow. I apologize.”

So childish still, even at his age. He sighed deeply—then, suddenly puzzled, looked back up at Taemuk.

“Then… may I show excitement in front of you, sir?”

“What?”

“You said not to show it in front of others, so I wondered if it was acceptable in front of you.”