BW C128

Chapter 128

“You’re back.”

Hoeun rose from the desk to greet him. Taemuk spared him only a glance before striding toward the sleeping tent. Alarmed, Hoeun hurriedly called out,

“Um… General.”

“What.”

Taemuk turned only his head. Hoeun rounded the desk, hands folded neatly below his navel, damp hair falling in an orderly cascade over one shoulder — freshly washed, not yet fully dry.

“Starting tomorrow, I… I intend to train alone.”

His voice was composed, formal as ever.

“…”

Taemuk’s eyebrow twitched. Only hours ago the brat had followed him around with puppy eyes, begging to practice shooting, pleading for guidance — and now suddenly he wanted to go alone?

Taemuk searched for the reason, then clicked his tongue. His gaze swept toward the tent entrance swaying in the wind.

“Why do those idiots keep running their mouths.”

Maybe he should rip all their tongues out. One didn’t need a tongue to kill Shikgoe anyway. He ground his molars.

But Hoeun — oblivious — defended them.

“They only told me because I must have looked foolish being so excited, not knowing anything.”

“What?”

“If you had told me earlier, I—”

“So. It’s my fault?”

Taemuk’s eyes gleamed like a predator’s. Hoeun immediately shrank.

“N-not a fault, exactly, but I… I should have realized sooner.”

“And if you had? What would you do?”

The cold tone made Hoeun puff his cheeks sulkily.

“I don’t want you to suffer, that’s all.”

For a beat, Taemuk’s sharp gaze softened — just barely. Meanwhile, the brazier’s coals flared hotter.

“…And why does that bother you.”

He asked expecting a proper answer — Because you’re my General, Because you’re my Military God, or even a shy Just because.

Instead, Hoeun answered earnestly,

“Do I need a reason? No one enjoys seeing someone in pain.”

“Ah. A hu-man, hm.”

Taemuk dragged out the syllable sa as if it tasted ridiculous on his tongue. So that was the grand reason? Expecting anything else had been foolish. He blew a sharp breath upward, ruffling his fringe.

“Enough. You’re coming with me.”

“But—”

“…”

Hoeun opened his mouth to argue, but one look at Taemuk’s expression told him there was no ground to stand on. The General turned away, carrying the brazier into the sleeping tent.

Left alone, Hoeun hesitated, then closed his book and sifted through his luggage piled in a corner. After rummaging for a while, he found something.

This might help him.

Clutching it to his chest, he followed Taemuk inside.

Taemuk was removing his coat, preparing to sleep. The braziers he’d brought were clustered on one side of the bed rather than on both sides, flooding the tent with warmth.

Hoeun, now long past being startled by Taemuk’s bare chest, scurried up to him and held out the object.

“Then… would you please try wearing this?”

It was a fur ear muff — plush white fur trimmed with pale green silk, shaped to wrap ears and cheeks.

Taemuk stared.

“…Are you insane?”

“It’s thick and lined, so sound will be less sharp. Rather than letting gunfire hurt your ears—”

“Put it away. Before I tear it apart.”

“Y-yes…”

Hoeun lowered the unfortunate ear muff, lips jutting out in wounded dismay. Taemuk — already lifting the blankets — spoke without looking back,

“Stop pouting and get in. Sleep.”

Inside the bedding lay warmed stones nestled together. Chilbok must have placed them earlier. Taemuk scooped them out bare-handed, still faintly steaming.

“Yes…”

Hoeun set the ear muff aside and climbed in. He no longer hesitated entering Taemuk’s bed. Once, he would have trembled with dread — but since returning from Myeonghwa-eup, Taemuk had only kissed him occasionally, never touching him further, never pressing desire. The winter bedding had also changed from black to soft navy cotton — a small comfort that eased the mind.

Hoeun lay where the warm stones had been. Heat seeped into his bones. Between the blankets and the twin braziers beside them, winter felt like a distant thing.

Taemuk joined him shortly after, lying at his side — bare skin lightly covered by the blanket while Hoeun tucked it all the way to his chin. One arm folded behind his head, he closed his eyes.

Soon, Hoeun wriggled.

“General…”

“What now.”

He sounded exasperated, yet a faint smile curved his lips. Hoeun didn’t notice. Fearing he might irritate him, he whispered,

“What shall we do next?”

“What do you mean.”

“Will we stay here? Until someone seeks aid again, or until Shikgoe appear?”

Taemuk opened his eyes and looked at the flickering lantern light on the ceiling.

“No.”

“Then—?”

“We leave camp in two days.”

“…What?”

Hoeun sat bolt upright. Two days? They were leaving? He had only just begun feeling attached to the place. Yes, everyone would go together — but still.

“Where will we go?”

Taemuk sat up too, rising smoothly on core strength, his muscles sharply defined.

“You asked once — where Shikgoe come from.”

“Ah— yes.”

Hoeun nodded, caught off guard. On the journey back from Myeonghwa-eup, he had fired question after question — more like talking to himself, really.

How are Shikgoe born? Do they have parents? Are they like insects, one brood mother birthing many? Where do they live? Why do they come in such numbers? If they vary in size, do they grow with age? If there are smaller ones, are they easier to kill?

Taemuk had seemed to ignore him then. Apparently not.

Suddenly, Taemuk stood and left the tent.

“W-where are you going?”

Flustered, Hoeun started to rise, but Taemuk returned before he could move far, parting the tent flap with a book in hand. He climbed back onto the bedding and dropped the book into Hoeun’s lap.

“What is this?”

“A record ledger.”

“A… ledger?”

“It lists every reported battle. Not only battles — invasions, raids, every significant instance. Perhaps not all, but most.”

He pushed Hoeun’s dangling leg back under the blanket. Hoeun didn’t notice; he was transfixed by the book.

“There was… something like this?”

He traced the cover reverently and opened it. Inside lay endless entries of towns and villages. Some he did not recognize, but many he did: Cheongju, Gongju, Hongseong, Cheonan, Jeonju, Naju, Gwangju, Suncheon, Namwon, Gyeongju, Sangju, Dongnae…

The entries were ordered not by region but by date. Different hands, different strokes of ink filled the pages.

“We’ll go where the records are most numerous.”

Taemuk’s voice was low.

Hoeun looked up sharply.

“You mean… to where Shikgoe have appeared the most?”

“Yes. If they have a nest — if such a thing exists — it will be near there.”

“Oh…”

It was sound reasoning. Perhaps Shikgoe did not all come from one origin — but if they did, the place with the most sightings would lie closest to their source. Even if not, such a place would hold answers — patterns, signs, truths unknown.

Maybe they would finally uncover something.

Bolkki — the fur ear-muff — was historically worn in Joseon winters. Hoeun choosing mint-trim fur ear-warmers for the most terrifying man alive is peak soft-romantic comedy energy