BW C141

Chapter 141

Hoeun glanced back at him for a brief moment, then tried to move toward Taemuk again.

“Please wait. The General is—”

“You can’t.”

Gilsang yanked Hoeun by the wrist. It wasn’t merely stopping him—he was dragging him backward with force.

“W–why, why are you doing this? Stop. Please stop.”

Hoeun tried to pry Gilsang’s hand off, but with his feeble strength he couldn’t hope to win. After tugging and twisting several times, he lifted his tear-bright eyes toward Taemuk. Please pull him off. Please take me with you. I want to go to you. He was just about to say so when—

“Khrrrk—”

Taemuk’s chest heaved, and he coughed violently. Thick, dark blood surged up from his mouth and splattered across the snow, forming a wet, spreading pool of crimson.

That single burst was not the end. He coughed several more times, each one wracking his entire frame, and then swayed forward—before collapsing to his knees with a heavy thud.

“Ah—”

Hoeun’s face drained to an icy blue. Taemuk, collapsing? He had never even imagined such a thing. It had never crossed his mind that such a moment could occur.

Because Taemuk was strong.

Because he was the strongest in the world—his military god.

That was why watching Taemuk fall terrified him to his core. What if—what if something happened to him? Hoeun had to go. Immediately. Right this instant.

Hoeun flailed his arms, desperately trying to shake Gilsang off.

“Sergeant, the General—he’s bleeding, h–he’s—please, please let go. Quickly!”

“……”

But Gilsang said nothing. He simply kept dragging him. When Hoeun resisted too fiercely, he muttered, “Pardon me,” and wrapped an arm around Hoeun’s waist, lifting him clean off the ground.

“Why are you doing this! I—I’m the General’s guide! I—I have to treat him!”

Hoeun kicked and struggled wildly as Taemuk grew smaller and smaller in the distance. His pale, thin hand stretched desperately toward him.

“Not now. Later.”

“Why should I wait?!”

The Shikgoe were all dead. Only Taemuk was left to save. Nothing could possibly be more urgent. Hoeun struck at Gilsang’s arm again and again, but the sergeant didn’t budge.

“P–please… please let me go…”

Watching Taemuk grow farther away broke something inside him. Hoeun finally burst into tears. His frustration, anger, panic, fear—everything boiled over.

“General…”

His eyes brimmed as he stared at Taemuk. He believed—he wanted to believe—that Taemuk was searching for him too. That Taemuk would feel sorrow at seeing him carried away. That Taemuk would reach for him.

And in truth—

“……”

Even as he choked on blood, Taemuk’s eyes were locked on Hoeun—wide, unblinking, ferocious.

But that gaze was strange. It was not the look of a man watching his fading guide. Not longing, either. It looked far more like—

A beast robbed of its prey.

A flash of murderous intent swelled behind his eyes—as though, if anything came between him and Hoeun for even an instant, he would tear its throat out without hesitation.

“…”

Hoeun sucked in a sharp, shallow breath. Why… why was Taemuk looking at him like that? He stared back in trembling confusion as Gilsang hauled him onto a horse and sat him down in front.

“Sergeant, what are you—stop! Please, just let me go!”

Hoeun writhed to escape, but then Seongim rushed over and suddenly threw a giant Jeokudae cloak over him—burying him in heavy darkness, as if trying to hide him.

“Wh–what is this…?”

Hoeun thrashed under the cloak, bewildered.

“Hyah!”

The horse jolted forward. Hoeun nearly toppled off, but Gilsang tightened his grip through the cloak and urged the horse faster.

“What—what is—what is happening—what are you doing—?!”

Nothing made sense. He didn’t want to understand. Had they all gone mad? Why would they pull him away from Taemuk when he was wounded like that? Did they want Taemuk to die? Were they committing treason?

He could not accept it. He could not allow it.

Hoeun twisted his body with all his might, trying to throw himself from the horse. If he fell, if he broke a rib—if his body shattered—it didn’t matter. Anything was better than being dragged away from Taemuk.

But as always, Hoeun’s strength was pitiful. And worse, his fever spiked again, stealing what little power he had left.

He wanted to bite his tongue and die, simply from the disgust he felt toward himself.

But he couldn’t die.

Because Taemuk was in pain. Because Taemuk was waiting for him.

He had to go back.

Hoeun struggled to calm his breathing—inhale, exhale—then spoke through the cloak, his voice muffled but steady.

“Put me down.”

Gilsang was close enough to hear, yet he offered no reply. His silence was more unnerving than anger; he had never ignored Hoeun before. The horse only accelerated, pounding harder against the frozen ground. Hoeun’s heart thudded just as frantically. Anxiety rose in him like a tide.

He bit down hard on his lower lip, then spoke again.

“I asked you to put me down. Release me.”

“……”

“Put me down! I said put me down!”

He gathered what little strength remained and shouted. He was truly furious now. He even groped at his waist, searching for a firearm—intending to threaten Gilsang if he must.

But of course, he had no gun. He had been bedridden for days; how could he possibly have one?

Frustration ground his teeth together. Just then—fwip—the cloak was lifted. A blinding white world of snow slashed against his eyes. He blinked hard, then glared at Gilsang with all the defiance he had.

And just as he was about to shout—

“Quiet.”

Gilsang spoke in a low, pleading tone.

“…What?”

Hoeun let out a stunned, bitter laugh. But Gilsang repeated himself, his face grave.

“Please be quiet. The Captain might hear you and follow.”

“…What?”

Hoeun stared, dumbfounded. Who would follow? Taemuk? Taemuk would follow his voice? Even if he did—why was that a problem? Shouldn’t that be exactly what they wanted?

Hoeun looked at Gilsang in disbelief—only for more hoofbeats to sound behind them.

Seongim was catching up. Behind her came Byeonguk, and over a dozen more soldiers—all elite members of the Jeokudae, men who always remained near Taemuk’s side.

They surrounded Hoeun, closing ranks around him, eyes sharp as they scanned the forest. They were not watching for Shikgoe. A handful of Shikgoe would never unsettle these warriors.

So what, exactly, were they afraid of?

“Why… why are you all doing this? You haven’t forgotten that I’m the General’s guide, have you?”

Hoeun asked, his voice trembling with offense. Gilsang kept his eyes fixed on the snowy forest ahead as he answered.

“Ah I know. How could we forget. That’s why we’re runnin’.”

“……”

Running from whom? From Taemuk?

But Taemuk was his military god, not a monster.

Hoeun frowned harder, utterly unable to understand. Gilsang let out a weary sigh.

“My duty is to protect ya, young master. And right now, to do that… we gotta avoid the Captain.”

“Why? Does the General want to kill me?”

“……”

Gilsang opened his mouth—then shut it again in silence.

But from that silence, Hoeun felt an answer seep through.

“……”

And so he couldn’t speak anymore either.

For a long time, Gilsang drove the horses without stopping. Only when they reached a part of the forest where the snow came up to their thighs and the horses could run no farther did they finally halt.

The trees were dense—thick enough to hide even their breath. Snow filled the earth like a deep, icy sea.

Hoeun looked back at the dark forest behind them. What if Taemuk can’t hear me? What if he can’t find me and passes by? They had traveled that far.

Gilsang and the soldiers immediately cleared snow and began assembling tents. Somehow they had prepared for this flight in advance; tents, cloaks, supplies—everything they needed was ready.

By the time the camp was built and a fire crackled to life, the sun had set and night had fallen. Stars glittered across the sky like frost.

“……”

Hoeun sat before the fire, his face clouded with gloom. Gilsang had insisted he stay inside the tent because of the cold, but Hoeun refused—sitting outside stubbornly, childishly, because it felt like the only protest he had left.

Seongim draped a fur over his shoulders, but he was too heartsick to even thank her.

“Haa…”

Hoeun let out a long breath and shut his eyes. Whether his eyes were closed or open, Taemuk’s image hovered constantly—staggering, collapsing, vomiting blood… and worst of all, the shredded flesh torn from his body.

He couldn’t sit still.

“…I should go back after all.”