BW C181

Chapter 181

Regardless, Hoeun was already fully absorbed in examining the sikgoe corpses now blanketed with soft layers of snow. He rummaged here and there for a long while, seemingly unaware of the cold, before letting out a sigh so deep it felt as though the ground might cave in.

“I really thought this time we’d finally find the sikgoe’s base….”

“We can just try again.”

“Will next time really be any different?”

“No rule says it won’t be.”

“…….”

Hoeun looked at Taemuk quietly. Taemuk’s attitude—flat to the point of indifference—felt strange. Of anyone, Taemuk had spent the longest time on the battlefield; if anyone should be sick to death of sikgoe, it was him. It would have been natural for him to feel frustrated at a clue that slipped through their fingers—yet he was oddly serene.

Or perhaps it was because he had been here so long. Perhaps the battlefield had become his everyday life. Perhaps a world crawling with sikgoe was all he had ever truly known.

Thinking that way made Hoeun’s own frustration feel childish. If Taemuk can remain this steady, who am I to complain?

Yes—expecting to solve a hundred-year war in a few months was greed.

Hoeun forced the corners of his mouth upward and nodded.

“You’re right. There’s no rule it has to be the same. I’ll think of another method. Shall we head back now?”

As he spoke, he lifted the trailing hem of his silk robe. The snow had piled up to his shins, and the long fabric was more cumbersome than expected. Just as he took a step toward Taemuk—

“Already?”

Taemuk asked, a faint crease forming between his brows. Hoeun answered calmly, his usual gentle tone unchanged.

“Is there something else you’d like to see?”

“No, it’s not that….”

“…….”

Hoeun waited, unhurried. After hesitating, Taemuk jerked his chin toward the edge of the forest, where the trees stood thick.

“There’s a place over there that gets good sunlight. It’s warmer.”

“…….”

“I’m not saying we have to go. Just that it exists.”

Hoeun’s long lashes fluttered. Then he understood—and a faint smile bloomed.

“Really? Then since we’re already out here, shall we take a walk?”

“Well… it’s a bit of a hassle, but sure.”

Taemuk replied as though indifferent, though the corners of his mouth lifted just slightly.

Hoeun laughed, puffing out a breath of white steam, and hurried over to him. He slipped off his leather gloves and naturally took Taemuk’s hand.

“…….”

Taemuk looked down at him—then clasped Hoeun’s hand in return, this time without hiding his smile.

He carefully set Hoeun down from his arms. Hoeun’s feet sank into the snow with a soft sarak, and at once he exclaimed,

“Wow….”

On the way here, trees had been packed tightly together, but here stood a single massive tree. Its trunk was as thick and tall as if four—no, six—trees had been fused into one. Its branches spread so wide that nothing else could grow nearby.

In spring or summer, the dense leaves would have blocked the sun entirely—but now, in winter, every leaf had fallen, letting sunlight pour down unhindered. Sunlight clung to each bare branch where leaves should have been, unreal in its beauty. The forest beyond was all icy white and cold blue—yet here, everything was gold.

“It’s unbelievably warm.”

Hoeun stretched out his palm. As it filled with sunlight, a golden hue washed over his skin, and warmth seeped in. He wiggled his fingers, savoring the sensation.

It was so gentle that no breath fogged the air. It was strange that the snow remained piled so thick despite it.

“Right?”

Taemuk said, visibly pleased. He remembered Hoeun once mentioning that he liked sitting on the porch and basking in the sun. That memory was why he had brought him here—and seeing Hoeun like this made it all worthwhile.

Hoeun prowled around like a cautious squirrel—peeking here, peeking there—before circling the great tree. Taemuk didn’t bother following closely; he simply stood back and watched.

Step, step. Step, step.

Hoeun’s footsteps pressed rhythmically into the snow. Hearing them, Taemuk’s brow relaxed.

He’d thought this before—Hoeun’s footsteps were light. Clean. Neat. The kind of sound that made one think, Ah, that’s a nobleman. A scholar.

And the snow beneath—step-step, crunch-crunch—slowly compacted under his feet. It was ticklish, soothing, and strangely sweet to the ear.

“How did you find a place like this?”

Hoeun asked, peeking out from behind the tree.

“I just… passed by.”

Taemuk trailed off. It really had been coincidence, yet somehow it felt embarrassing. He dropped his gaze and scratched the back of his neck.

Hoeun watched him quietly.

“…….”

Passed by.

So—he saw the sunlight here and thought of me? Remembered that I like the warmth, and brought me along?

That thought made it impossible to look away. And after a moment, Taemuk finally looked back.

“…….”

“…….”

They met each other’s gaze from a comfortable distance. Then Taemuk moved first, crunching through the snow toward him.

Meanwhile, Hoeun began circling the tree again. Taemuk followed at about half a turn’s distance behind.

After three slow laps under the sun, the snow around the tree had been packed flat by their footprints. Walking became easier; the sound of steps grew faint.

For some reason, Taemuk felt disappointed. He wanted to hear Hoeun’s footsteps more.

After a brief pause, he suddenly tapped the tree lightly with his fist—just a touch, barely more than a brush.

The tree shuddered—and the snow piled on its branches came pouring down.

Taemuk had expected a gentle fall: light flakes drifting, perhaps catching on Hoeun’s lashes, Hoeun flustering as he brushed them away. Snow would pile up again, and he’d get to hear those footsteps once more.

Instead, it was an avalanche.

The tree was enormous; its branches thick and countless. Snow dumped down as if someone had overturned buckets upon buckets of it.

“Uwah—!”

Hoeun was buried with a dull cry and fell face-first. Even after he hit the ground, more snow cascaded down, cutting his scream short. His small body vanished without a trace.

“Choi Hoeun!”

Taemuk panicked and sprinted over, digging him out of the snow. Hoeun emerged with a dazed expression—like a potato. A potato covered in snow instead of dirt.

“Even Chilbok’s sturdier than you. Collapsing over snow—honestly….”

Taemuk scolded him, yet his hands were gentle as he brushed snow from Hoeun’s body. Hoeun didn’t recover immediately, staring blankly as if struck by lightning. Taemuk studied him anxiously—Is he sick again? Do I need to get the healer—

“Hahaha—hah, hahaha!”

Hoeun burst into laughter.

It was so bright, so clear. Snow slipped from his hair, his lashes, the bridge of his nose as his laughter rang out.

“…….”

Taemuk stared. Hoeun smiled often, but he had never seen him laugh out loud like this. His mouth wide open, eyes curved deeply—it was a side of him Taemuk had never known. He couldn’t look away.

Hoeun laughed until the snow on his cheeks melted, then plopped down and fell backward into the snow. His daenggi-tied hair sank straight in.

“What are you doing?”

Taemuk grabbed his wrist to pull him up, but Hoeun grinned.

“This is my first time being buried in snow.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Whenever it snowed, my parents never let me leave the house. They worried I’d catch a cold.”

“…….”

“But it’s not as cold as I imagined. It feels like a cotton blanket.”

He said it because he was happy—because this moment felt new and wonderful.

Taemuk’s expression, however, turned serious.

“…You won’t catch a cold?”

He asked quietly. Hoeun’s fevers weren’t ordinary things; when he fell ill, he suffered for days. Worry wasn’t enough—this was fear.

Hoeun tilted his head to look at him.

“I won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because tonight, you’ll hold me tight again.”

“…….”

“Then I won’t get sick.”

It was nonsense—utter nonsense.

Taemuk frowned, clearly thinking What kind of bullshit is that?

Hoeun, meanwhile, just smiled softly.

After a moment, Taemuk gave up and lay down beside him in the snow.