BW C152

Chapter 152

“Where will you wash? Is there even a place to wash out here?”

Hoeun looked around, puzzled. All that existed were trees and snow. Was he going to wash with snow? Would that even work? he wondered.

“There is.”

Taemuk spoke while staring toward something hidden between the trees—something Hoeun could not see. Hoeun followed his gaze, but the space looked empty to him. Then Taemuk asked in a low voice:

“…Want to come with me?”

Hoeun jerked his head up at him. After a slow blink, he smiled faintly and nodded.

“Yes. I would like to go with you.”

At the affirmation, the corner of Taemuk’s lips lifted—barely perceptible, yet undeniably there. He had expected a yes, but hearing it still pleased him.

“Come here.”

Taemuk bent down and curved his arm behind his thigh at a right angle, creating a seat. When Hoeun tilted his head, confused by the gesture, Taemuk flicked his bloodstained hand with irritation.

“My hand’s covered in blood. How am I supposed to hold you with this? Sit.”

“Ah… yes.”

Hoeun perched himself on Taemuk’s arm. The thick, solid limb supported him like a well-crafted chair.

With one arm, Taemuk lifted him effortlessly and drew him against his chest. Hoeun, by now familiar with the motion, leaned onto him naturally—looping his arms around Taemuk’s neck, pulling his braided ribbon free from where it had gotten caught between their bodies. There was no embarrassment in him anymore; climbing onto Taemuk felt as ordinary as mounting a horse.

“……”

Taemuk bit his lower lip briefly. His mouth kept wanting to curl upward—so much so it felt like his smile might tear up to his ears.

Was he sick?

Tilting his head once, he dismissed the thought. Pulling Hoeun closer, he began moving swiftly through the forest.

He stopped at a small, nameless ravine. Large and small stones, smooth from years of water, were scattered without order. Clear water streamed rapidly down the mountain slope, at times trickling, at times rushing.

Ice clung between the rocks, and snow gathered in shaded spots, yet the water flowed on—unyielding. The cold that had frozen an entire lake had failed to claim this narrow ravine.

Taemuk set Hoeun atop a flat rock.

“Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t squirm and slip.”

“Yes, understood.”

Turning his back to him, Taemuk crouched and washed his hands. The transparent water was clean but freezing cold. Red blood unfurled slowly through it.

“Ugh…”

Hoeun instinctively hunched his neck at the sight. The cold seemed to seep into him as well. That water must be unbearably frigid—surely numbing to the bone. But Taemuk washed without flinching, as though he felt no chill at all.

When his hands were nearly clean, Taemuk suddenly spoke.

“More.”

“Pardon?”

At the cryptic word, Hoeun leaned forward slightly. Taemuk glanced back at him, then returned his gaze to his hands.

“You like fruit… what else do you like?”

“……”

Hoeun’s lashes fluttered upward. He fought shikgoe alone, returned bloodied, and while washing his hands… asks something like that?

It felt strangely unlike Taemuk—and yet, endearingly so. A faint laugh escaped him.

“Hmm…”

He thought for a moment. Then his eyes fell on the handkerchief he had been holding—the embroidered flower on its corner.

“Flowers.”

“…Flowers?”

“Yes.”

He traced the tiny embroidered petals with his thumb.

“My mother loves flowers. Following her around to see them… I came to like them as well.”

Taemuk, who had been listening silently, let out a short pfft—a laugh whose meaning was unclear. Mocking? Teasing? Hoeun frowned slightly. Taemuk spoke, amusement lingering in his voice:

“Fruit and flowers… You don’t think you’re an actual sparrow or squirrel, do you?”

“…A squirrel?”

Hoeun tilted his head. A sparrow he could somewhat understand—but a squirrel? Did squirrels even like flowers? Or did he resemble one? Small and cute like a furry creature?

He touched his chin. His skin, smooth and hairless, was soft. He twisted to check his back—maybe a twig had gotten stuck there, resembling a tail.

His fussing made Taemuk laugh again. Only then did Hoeun realize he was being teased. Narrowing his eyes, he kicked lightly at the snow with his toes.

“Well, I don’t only like childish things. I like reading books, sitting on the porch in the sun, and… ah, I like playing with Nureongi.”

“Nureongi?”

“Our dog at home. He runs very fast and is clever. Even if he wanders off, he always returns in time for meals. My father says he likes people too much to guard the house properly, but he’s very cute. His fur is very soft too.”

“……”

“And… I like sharing snacks with Deokwoo. Unlike me, Deokwoo eats everything well. Just watching him makes me feel better. When I can’t finish my food and my parents worry, sometimes Deokwoo secretly eats the rest for me.”

“……”

Taemuk’s face tightened again, displeased for reasons he didn’t name. He muttered “Deokwoo?” like the name itself offended him.

Hoeun swung his legs idly, thinking about what else he liked… until he realized he had been chattering far too much. Taemuk disliked noise—his sharp hearing made it bothersome. He hadn’t meant to burden him.

Scooting deeper onto the rock, Hoeun asked quietly:

“Did I talk too much?”

“…Not particularly.”

“……”

“……”

Silence fell. Hoeun fiddled with his handkerchief, then ventured cautiously:

“Then… what do you like, General?”

“……”

Taemuk froze mid-wash. Hoeun couldn’t see his face—only his back, the strong line of his neck, the sharp jaw glimpsed from the side. Very masculine, Hoeun thought absently.

Taemuk kept his hands submerged for a long while, thinking. Hoeun waited patiently, wondering, hoping for the answer.

But the answer was disappointing.

“Nothing.”

“…Nothing? Not even one thing?”

“Well… not nothing, but…”

His voice trailed off—uncharacteristically uncertain. Then he slowly turned back toward Hoeun. He didn’t speak. He simply looked.

And kept looking.

Again, and again.

It was a strange gaze, but Hoeun didn’t understand it. His clear eyes simply received it as if asking, What is it? Tell me too.

Taemuk gave a small shake of his chin, as if dismissing the moment, and turned away again. He resumed washing. But the blood caught beneath his nails wouldn’t come free. Normally he would just ignore it—but not now. Not when he’d have to hold Hoeun.

Not when he’d have to carry him back.

“Do you truly like nothing?”

Hoeun persisted gently. He wanted to know what Taemuk liked.

“……”

Taemuk glanced back at him again, frowned slightly, and began thinking—really thinking. But aside from the one bright thought that had surfaced moments earlier, he couldn’t think of another.

What would someone like me even like? he wondered bitterly.

Then a thought flickered through him.

Still scrubbing at the stubborn blood, he said evenly:

“I like taking off a shikgoe’s head in one strike.”

“…Pardon?”

“There’s a nice feel in the hand.”

“……”

“It goes crunch.”

He lifted his hands briefly from the water, curled his fingers like claws, crossed them and pulled apart—miming the motion of ripping something open.

“If you do it right, the brain and blood don’t splatter as much.”

Finished with his explanation, he put his hands back into the stream.

Hoeun stared at his back, mouth slightly open. Then his expression twisted awkwardly—not crying, not laughing, just… lost.

“…Yes. That… that may indeed be something one likes. A very… admirable hobby… you have.”

“……”

“……”

Silence returned, broken only by the roar of the ravine’s water.

Before long, Taemuk stood, his hands finally clean. Hoeun hopped off the rock as though waiting for him, then approached and offered the handkerchief he had warmed with his hands.

Taemuk didn’t take it.

Unbothered, Hoeun simply took Taemuk’s hand himself and gently wiped the water away.