BW C182

Chapter 182

He wanted to believe Hoeun’s words.

They would go back, bathe him in warm water, make him drink a full bowl of decoction, stoke the fire hard and lay him on the heated floor, pile two thick cotton quilts over him—and then hold him tightly through the night. If he did that, surely that wretched cold would come only to turn back halfway.

Taemuk was knitting together this plan with serious intensity, even creasing his brow, when Hoeun wriggled closer. He stretched Taemuk’s arm open and slipped neatly into the hollow beneath it, tucking himself in as though it were the most natural place in the world. Taemuk let out a quiet snort of laughter, then turned his gaze back up to the sky.

After that, the two of them lay there without saying anything, simply looking upward.

“…….”

“…….”

The winter sky was a deep, vivid blue—beautiful in a way that felt unmistakably winter. The sunlight falling across their faces was, paradoxically, warm enough to feel gentle. Even the cold air seemed clean and refreshing in that moment.

Then, as an unfamiliar bird crossed their field of vision high above, Hoeun spoke in a small voice.

“Lichun*** is coming soon. Will it get warmer here too? I suppose it won’t truly warm up until the villages down below have sprouted, bloomed, and even shed their flowers.”

“Probably.”

“…….”

“But no matter how late it is,” Taemuk added, “spring always comes.”

Hoeun turned to look at him.

Even Taemuk’s profile was sharply masculine, every line distinct. Hearing words like spring will come spoken with that face made Hoeun murmur softly,

“…That’s a wonderful thing to say.”

Taemuk cleared his throat awkwardly. He hadn’t meant to sound impressive, but being told he was made his shoulder blades itch. Still, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling—enough that he briefly thought maybe he should try reading some books too, like Hoeun did.

“Then… do you think there’ll come a day when all the Shikgoe are gone?”

“It’ll come,” Taemuk replied offhandedly. “We’re running ourselves to death for it.”

He scrunched and smoothed his nose bridge when Hoeun wasn’t looking. Damn it. I should’ve answered that better. He didn’t want Hoeun thinking, See? He talks like a common brute after all.

“…….”

But Hoeun wasn’t judging his words. He was thinking about Taemuk’s life—the years he had spent killing Shikgoe on the battlefield. Hoeun himself had only stepped onto the field a few months ago; what could he possibly know? Even so, it wasn’t hard to imagine how unimaginably difficult Taemuk’s path must have been.

“It must have been very hard,” Hoeun said.

“What has?”

“Everything that brought you here.”

“…….”

Taemuk’s breathing slowed for a moment. His eyes dulled as fragments of time, roads, and faces passed through his mind. After a brief silence, he answered simply,

“It was.”

“…….”

Hoeun pressed his lips together. That affirmation hurt more than he expected. If only I had awakened sooner. Why was I so late? Is it because my body is weak? If I’d been healthy, would my awakening have come earlier?

He found himself resenting his own frail body.

Then Taemuk rolled onto his side and grinned.

“But I’m fine now. Because you’re here.”

“…….”

Hoeun’s chest swelled softly. A gentle warmth bloomed in his cheeks. Being acknowledged as useful was a joy no matter how many times it happened—and right now it felt so good he couldn’t tell whether he was lying on snow or drifting on clouds.

Swallowing dryly, Hoeun turned as well to face Taemuk and spoke in a quiet, careful voice.

“I’m truly glad that I’m your iin, that I can be someone who helps you.”

He expected Taemuk to smile.

Instead, Taemuk stared at him and said something entirely unexpected.

“That’s not why I’m glad you’re my iin.”

“…Pardon?”

“I treasure you because you’re you.”

“…….”

“I like you—because you’re you.”

With the back of his fingers, he gently brushed Hoeun’s cheek. His hand slid down, smoothing through Hoeun’s hair, until his fingers reached the silk daenggi ribbon. He toyed with it absentmindedly. The texture of the silk was familiar—and yet strangely unfamiliar, as though Hoeun’s ribbon overlapped in his mind with someone else’s.

While Taemuk was still frowning faintly at the ribbon, Hoeun suddenly rolled over. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned in and—

Peck.

He kissed Taemuk’s cheek.

“…….”

Taemuk’s eyebrows shot up. As he stared at Hoeun in surprise, Hoeun buried his face into Taemuk’s chest, clearly flustered by his own boldness.

“…Thank you,” Hoeun murmured. “For treasuring me.”

Taemuk stopped breathing for a moment, then muttered as though in a sigh,

“How are you even like this….”

So beautiful.

How are you my iin? How are you the partner heaven bound to me?

All heaven ever gave me was misfortune—so what wind blew you into my life?

Taemuk wrapped his arms around Hoeun’s back and buried his nose in his hair. And he thought: even if he never eradicated the Shikgoe, even if he had to die rolling in this blood-soaked battlefield, it might still be fine.

If Hoeun stayed by his side like this, he felt he wouldn’t even notice the pain—no matter how many times his limbs were torn apart and chewed.

Hoeun, too, wrapped his arms around Taemuk’s waist. They lay there without words or movement, listening to each other’s breathing, sharing warmth, breathing in each other’s scent.

When the blue sky finally ripened into a soft yellow, Taemuk sat up.

“It’ll get cold once the sun sets. Let’s head back before that.”

“Yes.”

Taemuk rose first and slid his hands beneath Hoeun’s arms, lifting him easily. Hoeun floated up like a butterfly and settled neatly into Taemuk’s embrace, instinctively looping his arms around Taemuk’s neck. Taemuk brushed the snow from Hoeun’s back and arms as he held him.

Then Hoeun whispered,

“I’m hungry.”

“That’s rare. We should hurry back.”

“Chilbok said he’d make cabbage pancakes for dinner. The kind they eat in Gyeongsang—jjijeom? jijim? Have you had them?”

“I have.”

“I tried them for the first time at lunch, and they were really good. I want to eat them again for dinner. I think I liked them even more than beef pancakes.”

“Don’t say that in front of Dongja. He’ll blow up like an angry bear.”

Hoeun giggled. “Yes. I’ll remember that.”

Smiling as well, Taemuk adjusted his hold and began walking back toward the encampment—back home.

Hoeun opened his notebook, wearing his usual serene, almost lonely expression. Everything looked normal—except his upper lip was pouting ever so slightly.

Under the wide table meant for ten people, a fierce battle was underway.

Hoeun pulled his hand back. A large hand immediately followed and caught it again. He twisted his wrist to escape—only to be caught once more. No matter how hard he tried, he kept being grabbed, touched, entangled.

Finally losing patience, Hoeun’s brow creased. If no one else were around, he would have scolded, “General, please! Have some decorum!”

But with so many eyes present, he couldn’t.

What do I do? How do I shake him off completely?

Just then, a thick thumb pressed and stroked against the back of his pale hand.

“That hurts,” Hoeun whispered.

“……!”

Startled, Taemuk yanked his hand away. Hoeun immediately placed both hands neatly atop the table. Taemuk stared blankly at him—then realized he’d been tricked.

“You—”

Hoeun calmly picked up his fountain pen, his expression utterly innocent, composed, and aloof.

It was infuriating.

Taemuk glared at him, then suddenly crooked his lips into a grin. Watching Hoeun put on such a noble façade was both adorable and deadly—clearly a terminal condition. Arms crossed, Taemuk stared without blinking.

“Captain.”

Byeonguk called him in a concise voice. Taemuk turned sharply. Only then did he notice the soldiers seated in rows behind Byeonguk. Brushing his bangs back roughly, Taemuk gestured with his chin.

“Yeah. Start.”

“Yes.”

Byeonguk stood and moved toward the wooden board set up at one side of the room. Large maps were pinned there, alongside the diagrams of Shikgoe antennae Hoeun had drawn.

“…….”

Hoeun took a short, steady breath.

Since officially beginning the search for the Shikgoe base, the Jeokudae leadership convened meetings every morning they weren’t deploying.

Hoeun hadn’t attended before—but after classifying the Shikgoe antennae, he had become an expert in his own right, and his participation had proven invaluable.

The meeting was held, as always, in one of the rooms of the house where Taemuk and Hoeun stayed. Taemuk sat at the head of the table; Hoeun and Gilsang took seats to his right. Across from them sat Byeonguk, with Dongja and Mansu beside him, along with several other commanders.

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Lìchūn (立春) — usually written as Lichun — means “Beginning of Spring.”

What it is

• Lichun is one of the 24 Solar Terms used in the traditional East Asian calendar (China, Korea, historically Japan).
• It marks the official start of spring, even though the weather is often still very cold.
• It usually falls around February 3–5.