BW C127

Chapter 127

“I’m here.”

Stepping into the dining tent, Hoeun moved toward a familiar table as though it were the most natural thing in the world. There sat Dongja, Mansu, Byeonguk, and Seong-im. Mansu waved broadly in welcome.

“Oh, Young Master’s here? Come, come. Sit.”

Ordinarily, Jeokudae ate outdoors — each soldier receiving a bowl and either eating on the spot or returning to their own tent. But on foul-weather days — when rain poured or snow fell — they raised a massive canopy and ate together like this.

Truthfully, Hoeun could dine in his own warm tent regardless of weather conditions. He never needed to come here. But he liked eating with everyone. So whenever Taemuk was not in the tent, he shared meals with them instead.

Seeing their familiar faces — faces he saw daily yet never tired of — Hoeun smiled softly and sat across from Dongja. The moment he did, a small shadow darted toward him and placed a tray down.

“Young Master, here you go.”

It was Chilbok.

“Thank you, Chilbok. I’ll enjoy it.”

Today’s meal was bibimbap — a common dish in the encampment, likely because it was easy to portion, serve, and eat.

Steam rose pleasantly from the bowl of doenjang soup beside it. Loaded with radish and dried greens, dark and fragrant — it looked delicious.

Hoeun swallowed. After the intense marksmanship training, he was starving. At this rate, he could polish off the entire bowl in moments.

He took a sip of warm soup first, then mixed his bibimbap. But as soon as his spoon lifted a scoop, he froze. Beneath the rice lay a thick slice of pan-fried egg.

“……”

Stiff as a board, Hoeun glanced around in alarm — just in time to meet Dongja’s eyes. She blinked once, tilted her head… then her brows shot up like knives.

“HEY! Chilbok, did you sneak an egg into ONLY the Young Master’s bowl again?!”

Her spoon stabbed upward like a spear and she slammed the table with a thud. The heavy wooden table cracked along its grain. Hoeun choked on air.

“……”

Chilbok bowed to Hoeun as if nothing had happened, then turned and sprinted away. Dongja slapped the table again, harder. The whole thing shook as if it might collapse.

“See that? SEE THAT? He doesn’t even bother answering now! I swear, I’m going to march over and— UGH, I could bite his cheeks clean off!”

She ground her teeth like she meant to gnaw someone alive. Mansu nudged her arm.

“Leave it. Young Master bought Chilbok fur socks.”

Hoeun coughed violently. The soup he had just swallowed nearly came right back up. He stared at Mansu, flustered.

“H-how did you know that…?”

“What do you mean how? This camp’s tiny.”

“It— it doesn’t feel tiny to me…”

The camp was vast — endlessly so. He hadn’t even explored half of it yet. But Mansu only shrugged and continued eating.

Meanwhile, Dongja stroked her chin with great solemnity.

“Fur socks, huh… hmm…”

She muttered the words several times, then nodded gravely.

“Alright. That earns him the right to egg.”

She declared it as though announcing a military promotion, then shoveled a monstrous scoop of rice into her mouth. Three chews, and the entire heap was gone.

“……”

Watching her demolish food like a wild beast, Hoeun couldn’t bring himself to eat just yet. He stirred the air with his spoon instead. Byeonguk spoke gently.

“Please don’t mind us, Young Master. It’s natural you eat different from us.”

“O-of course… yes.”

Still uncomfortable, Hoeun cut the omelet in half and placed it into Dongja’s bowl. She froze mid-chew.

“Young Master, seriously…”

She grinned — then tore into the egg with savage delight. The remaining half he passed to Mansu, who chuckled and ate it cheerfully. Finally, Hoeun lifted the last piece and offered it toward Byeonguk and Seong-im.

“Would you like—”

“We’re good.”

Both declined at once. Since they truly meant it, Hoeun did not insist. With relief, he ate.

But he made a mental note to tell Chilbok not to put eggs only in his bowl anymore. Gratitude was one thing — but favoritism was unjust.

He had just taken his first bite when Mansu asked,

“Training again today? Didn’t think I’d ever hear gunfire in camp.”

“Yes. It must have been noisy. I’m sorry.”

Hoeun bowed his head deeply. Even he found the gunshots loud. Dongja and Mansu had run toward gunfire in Myeonghwa-town without hesitation — they must be sensitive to the sound.

But Dongja waved her spoon casually, mellow from having eaten egg.

“Noisy? It’s not like you’re shooting at night. It’s fine.”

Even so, Hoeun worried. The Jeokudae camp was otherwise so quiet that one could hear the flutter of flags — if not for that, one might hear another’s breathing.

“In all the battlefields I’ve seen, there were constant gunshots and cannon fire. But here, gunfire isn’t common. I suppose ammunition supply must be difficult…”

Hoeun murmured. Mansu swallowed noodles of dried greens and shrugged.

“Huh. Didn’t know that.”

“Sir?”

“Ammo’s not exactly easy, but it’s not impossible either. If we can get pigs and chickens, we can get bullets.”

“Oh…”

“It’s more because of the noise.”

“Noise…?”

Hoeun paled.

“Should I stop shooting?”

“No, not us — I mean the Commander.”

“…The Commander?”

Mansu gave him a look that clearly meant you really didn’t know?

“If it’s loud for us, imagine how it sounds to him.”

Before he could form a question, Dongja answered bluntly,

“Probably feels like his eardrums explode.”

“Yeah. He hates loud things. During recruitment, he never takes people who use guns.”

Hoeun felt his chest drop like a stone.

“I… I didn’t know.”

He should have realized. Taemuk was always there when he trained. He had fired hundreds of shots — all while Taemuk endured every blast.

Why hadn’t he shown discomfort?

Meanwhile, Hoeun had begged to train more, bounced around with excitement, smiled foolishly — never once considering Taemuk’s pain.

He was supposed to be Taemuk’s guide — yet he had neglected his well-being entirely.

His spoon clattered down. He no longer felt hungry.

Byeonguk spoke softly:

“He’s teaching you on purpose.”

“…Why?”

“So he can hear gunshots.”

“…I don’t follow.”

“If you fire outside camp, why would it be?”

“A Shikgoe… or enemy attackers, like in Myeonghwa-town.”

“Right. Meaning Young Master would be in danger.”

“Yes.”

“Then if you shoot, the Commander will know immediately. Since nobody else uses guns, it’ll always be you.”

“…Ah.”

“To you it’s a weapon. To him… it’s like a warning gong. He’ll know where you are instantly.”

“A gong…”

Hoeun echoed weakly. Dongja slammed her spoon down in agreement.

“Exactly. Since only you shoot, you’re like a falling star.”

“…What?”

Mansu sighed.

“Not a falling star — she means distinct signal.”

“A… star signal.”

“Distinct signal.”

“Star signal.”

Mansu gave up.

“…Just eat.”

“I already finished.”

Her plate was spotless.

“Eat more.”

He dumped half his rice into her bowl. She brightened instantly and dug in again. Byeonguk and Seong-im chuckled.

But Hoeun could not.

Later that night, he sat at Taemuk’s desk, rereading the books he’d bought about Shikgoe — Manhwanlog and Countermeasures Against Shikgoe. Three complete readings, yet he searched again for anything he may have missed.

A page rustled.

The tent flap lifted.

Taemuk stepped in — bare-chested beneath a winter robe, unfazed by the cold. In each hand, he carried a brazier glowing fiery red.

With winter fully upon them, Taemuk now brought burning coals to the tent every night. He could easily order someone else to do it, yet he always did it himself.

Once, Hoeun had tried to carry one instead, only to nearly drop the heavy iron brazier and earn Taemuk’s silent ridicule.

tlNote

Hoeun learning the gun is basically “Your gunshot is my GPS ping.”

Taemuk be like: Notifications ON for you only.