Chapter 162

Hoeun froze, his lips softly parted, unable to answer such a sudden remark.

His ears—so pale they were nearly translucent—flushed a warm pink in seconds.

“W-Was that… sudden? D-Did you… use too much strength today? Are you hurt anywhere…?”

“No.”

“…Then why…”

“Why what. I need to be injured to suck your lips?”

“T-That’s… not what I meant…”

Hoeun fidgeted with the silk hem of his robe, fingertips curling the fabric.

A kiss without reason… it wasn’t strange, yet thinking about it made it strange.

A kiss without occasion was something lovers—partners—married couples shared.

Which reminded him…

What exactly was he to Taemuk?

Not Dongja and Mansu levels of camaraderie.

Not quite like Gilsang and Seongim either.

He had no words for it.

Hoeun drifted into thought when—

“So should I not?”

Taemuk leaned even closer, blotting out the lamplight behind him.

Hoeun’s entire vision darkened except for the sharp glint of Taemuk’s predatory eyes.

Hoeun glanced between those wild-animal eyes and nodded tiny.

“Y-You may…”

He did not even finish before a warm tongue swept across his lips.

Startled, Hoeun instinctively tilted his head back—

only for Taemuk’s large hand to seize his jaw.

Then, like a beast grooming its mate,

Taemuk began to lick his lips.

His red tongue passed slowly over Hoeun’s lips—slick, steady, deliberate.

Sometimes he licked from chin to philtrum with such strength that the soft skin moved under the pressure.

Other times he pushed Hoeun’s lips forward with his grip and licked only the plump curve of them.

“Mm….”

It wasn’t quite a kiss.

It was something else entirely—strange, indecent, primal.

Hoeun didn’t understand why Taemuk suddenly wanted such a thing…

but he chose not to understand.

He had no desire to comprehend an act so vulgar and obscene.

Soon, Taemuk slid his tongue inside Hoeun’s narrow mouth.

His fingers curled, pulling Hoeun closer.

“Mmh…”

Unlike his rough start, Taemuk kissed him slowly now—sweetly, almost tender.

It was exactly the kind of kiss Hoeun unconsciously preferred.

His stiff shoulders eased, tension melting away.

After a moment, he even responded shyly—moving his tongue against Taemuk’s, timidly sucking at it.

But abruptly—

Taemuk exhaled a hot breath, gripped the back of Hoeun’s head,

and pushed his tongue deeper.

“Hh—”

Their tongues tangled, sticking and sliding together with wet, shameless sounds.

Hoeun’s cheeks bulged and dipped as if he were hiding a small snake in his mouth.

His long lashes trembled violently.

Sometimes they lifted, sometimes drooped, fluttering like wings.

Taemuk watched all of it through half-lidded eyes.

Whenever Taemuk sucked his lips or tongue,

Hoeun clutched the edge of the desk, crossed his ankles under it,

or hunched his shoulders defensively.

Each reaction made Taemuk’s throat twitch—

whether from quiet laughter or swallowed hunger, Hoeun couldn’t tell.

After a long time savoring him,

Taemuk finally released him with one last deliberate suck at his lower lip.

Hoeun’s lip stretched like freshly steamed rice cake before settling back.

“Ah…”

Hoeun pressed a trembling hand to his tingling lips, breath unsteady.

His narrow shoulders rose and fell as though he’d sprinted.

Taemuk’s low voice cut through the moment.

“Ask me again.”

“…Pardon?”

“What you asked earlier. About my day.”

Hoeun blinked slowly, fluttering his long lashes.

Taemuk tilted his chin just a fraction, brushing his jaw with the back of his hand.

After thinking for a moment, Hoeun lowered his hand from his lips and repeated carefully:

“W-Was your day peaceful…? I heard you were scouting the surroundings—

you did not encounter any shikgoe, did you?”

This time Taemuk smiled with satisfaction and nodded.

“Nothing happened. Snow everywhere, no shikgoe.”

“I see.”

Hoeun smiled softly.

Taemuk looked unusually pleased, but he didn’t know why.

“And you? What did you do.”

Taemuk traced the delicate corner of Hoeun’s eye with his thumb.

“I met everyone who has seen antenna-type shikgoe.”

“And?”

“I organized everything. W-Would you… like to see it? It’s not perfect yet,

but it’s based on many accounts, so it should be fairly reliable.”

Hoeun slid down from the desk, neatly rearranged the papers, and pushed them toward Taemuk.

He also moved the lamp closer.

Taemuk sat in the chair with a heavy thud and paged through the sheets slowly.

Hoeun waited anxiously for his judgment.

At last, Taemuk reached the final page.

“Well done.”

He flipped the papers again with a soft rustle.

Hoeun lit up immediately—

his heels lifting, silk robes swaying with excitement.

Watching him, Taemuk tapped his thigh.

“Come here.”

Hoeun climbed onto his lap without hesitation—

not that he needed to climb;

Taemuk grabbed him the moment he approached and lifted him onto his thigh.

Settling sideways, Hoeun tugged his robe free from underneath him and leaned into Taemuk’s broad chest, exhaling contentedly—

Until Taemuk clicked his tongue.

“Your hand—what is that.”

“…Pardon?”

Hoeun blinked, confused.

His hand looked perfectly normal to him.

But Taemuk took his middle finger and rubbed it gently.

A faint sting pulsed.

His fingers were red and sore—pressed all day beneath a hard fountain pen.

“It’s bright red. Don’t overdo it.

If you collapse again, I’ll burn all that.”

Taemuk jerked his chin toward the stack of papers, voice stern.

He expected Hoeun to be frightened.

Instead, Hoeun answered calmly:

“Mm… you may burn them. I remember everything anyway.”

“Ha…”

Taemuk let out a breathless laugh.

Hoeun giggled softly in response.

“I’ll be reasonable. Don’t worry. I drank my tonic today.”

“Only the tonic?”

“No, I ate too. Chilbok insisted I must eat.

I couldn’t finish the whole bowl… but I ate plenty.”

Only then did Taemuk’s knitted brow smooth out.

He bounced his knee slightly, lifting Hoeun,

then pulled his small body close, one hand on his thigh and the other stroking his long braid from top to end.

At first, Taemuk had hated the braid, the ribbon, the prettiness of it all.

Now… his hand gravitated to it without thought.

The soft, plump strands felt pleasant against his palm.

Meanwhile, Hoeun glanced over the papers again and murmured absentmindedly:

“It would be wonderful if this could reach other units.

It might help in battles or defense.”

Taemuk replied as though it were the easiest thing in the world:

“Then we’ll send it.”

Hoeun looked up sharply.

“Is that possible?”

Communication between units was nearly impossible.

The Empire was vast, towns were isolated by shikgoe attacks,

and even knowing where a unit was stationed was uncertain.

But Taemuk had something else in mind.

“We have to go to Hanyang soon to fill the record sheets.”

He continued stroking Hoeun’s hair with indifferent ease.

“Record sheets? The ones you showed me before—those with every battle written?”

“Yes. Every year, all units go to Hanyang to report their battles.

We fill other units’ records, and they fill ours.”

“Ah…”

Hoeun remembered the book Taemuk once showed him—

many hands, many inks, many years layered into it.

“We also collect supplies, funding, and new soldiers if needed.”

“Then… I can show them my writings?”

“Yes.”

“And could we learn from other units too?”

“If needed. But you’ll have to wait until next year again.

They also need time to gather information.”

“That’s fine!”

Hoeun brightened immediately.

With other units’ accounts, the knowledge would expand immensely.

Perhaps they could even trace the origin point of the shikgoe.

“Then I should add more questions…

Like how to tell a shikgoe’s age, or whether anyone’s seen where they gather…”

“Write them.”

“Yes!”

Hoeun started to rise—

but Taemuk pushed his waist back down.

“Not now.”

“Ah… yes.”

Obediently, Hoeun settled back into his arms.