BW C184

Chapter 184

“Those fucking bastards—when you don’t want them to show up, they come charging in packs, but when you actually look for them, not a single one shows its face. What the hell, seriously!”

Late at night, Mansu shouted like a petulant child as he stretched his legs straight out over the snow while eating dinner in front of the campfire. His voice was loud enough to shake the sky, yet the snow-blanketed forest swallowed it whole and spat back only silence. The only sound left was the crackle—tatak, tak—of burning firewood.

“Tell me about it.”

“Haah….”

Those seated around Mansu sighed or clicked their tongues in agreement.

And it was understandable. It had already been four days. Four days of nothing but running across snowfields, and the Red Rain Unit had yet to encounter a single antennaed sikgoe.

They had crossed mountains and plains, sometimes even frozen lakes, running and running—yet all they saw was endless white snow. Occasionally they ran into sikgoe wandering without a leader, but those were useless precisely because they lacked one.

The surroundings were infuriatingly quiet, the destination vague, and the snow so white it made their eyes ache. Everyone looked worn out—not from physical exhaustion, but from boredom. This kind of movement simply didn’t suit the Red Rain Unit, who had lived with sikgoe constantly at their heels.

“…….”

With a dark expression, Hoeun scooped up some soup. But he didn’t bring it to his mouth. After pondering something for a while, he parted his lips as he looked around—only to close them again with a short sigh. Then he finally drank the soup, now completely cold.

“What.”

Taemuk, seated beside him, spoke abruptly.

“Yes?”

Hoeun raised his brows in question. Taemuk set his empty bowl down and looked straight at him.

“You were about to say something. What is it?”

“…….”

Without realizing it, Hoeun bit his lip. He’d barely moved his mouth—how had Taemuk noticed? He was about to brush it off when he noticed Dongja and Mansu barely eating, and Gilsang and Seongim having already set their chopsticks down. Swallowing dryly, Hoeun spoke carefully.

“I was thinking… instead of searching for the sikgoe, what if we tried luring them?”

“Luring them?”

Gilsang tilted his head.

“How?”

Mansu asked.

“Well, that is….”

Despite having thrown out the idea, Hoeun couldn’t continue easily. He lowered his lashes deeply, sighing soundlessly. Taemuk watched him quietly, then spoke in his usual low voice.

“Blood?”

At that single word, Hoeun’s shoulders flinched.

“It’s obvious why you’re hesitating.”

Taemuk smirked and brushed Hoeun’s cheek lightly with his thumb. Hoeun forced an awkward smile.

“Blood? What do you mean by that?”

At that moment, Byeonguk—who had brought Hoeun his herbal medicine—asked. Hoeun bowed slightly and accepted it with both hands, then drank it down without complaint. He didn’t particularly want to, but he knew everyone’s worry was steeped in that black liquid. Thanks to it, he’d managed four days of running in the cold without catching a chill.

“Sikgoe are sensitive to the smell of human blood.”

Taemuk said, watching Hoeun as if monitoring him. He occasionally brushed aside the wispy hair tickling Hoeun’s forehead.

“This place has already been abandoned. There’s nothing left for them to eat, so they must be starving. If they’re nearby, they might come running once they smell blood.”

“Then should we draw some blood?”

Dongja said, yanking the spear she’d stuck into the ground. Hoeun broke into a coughing fit.

“Cough—cough—!”

Taemuk patted Hoeun’s back and shot Dongja an irritated glare.

“The kid’s taking medicine, and you’re waving that murderous thing around like an idiot.”

“Hey, you said we needed human blood. Young master, did I scare you? Sorry.”

“N-no—cough—no, I’m f-fine.”

Hoeun waved his free hand frantically, covering his mouth with the other, then spoke in a slightly strained voice.

“But we don’t know how much blood would be needed. And there’s no guarantee the less intelligent sikgoe would come. If we’re unlucky, a double-horned one might appear. It’s not a controllable plan. And to begin with, obtaining human blood like this is—well, it doesn’t make sense, so that’s why I didn’t suggest it….”

His voice grew smaller and smaller. But Dongja snorted as if it were nothing.

“What do you mean we can’t get blood? This place is crawling with people who wouldn’t die even if you drained them by the pot.”

Mansu nodded enthusiastically.

“Right? If you count all the blood Dongja’s transfused into me, it’d be—uh—about as much as the Han River. And look at me now. Solid as ever.”

He slapped Dongja’s thick arm with a loud smack. Despite the force, Dongja didn’t even blink.

“Ah….”

Hoeun let out a small sigh. True—half the people here were military gods, and according to Taemuk, they wouldn’t die even if a bomb exploded or they were shot. A little blood wouldn’t kill them. But that wasn’t the point.

“Even so, you’d have to injure yourselves. How can you do something like that to perfectly healthy bodies? It’s unacceptable.”

But no one took Hoeun’s concern to heart. Byeonguk looked to Taemuk.

“I think it’s worth trying. We can’t keep searching indefinitely.”

Gilsang nodded as well.

“Exactly. Pour out a bucket of blood, hide, and if smart ones show up, just take out the leader. The rest’ll be easy. Keep doing that, and leaf-types or sprout-types should show up eventually.”

Faced with such self-sacrificing—borderline dangerous—remarks, Hoeun shook his head hard.

“No, no… that won’t do. It can’t.”

He looked at Taemuk, silently begging him to stop them. But Taemuk seemed not to hear—or not to care—his gaze fixed on the half-finished herbal medicine with a grave expression. Hoeun sighed deeply and drank the rest. The moment the bowl emptied—

“Bring the map.”

Taemuk ordered.

Before dawn, under a sky still deep blue, a single tiled-roof house stood tall—bleeding. It was as if the entire house had been dunked in blood and pulled back out. Above it, nameless black birds cawed as they flew past, adding to the eeriness.

It was a gruesome, unsettling sight. And at the same time, a scene befitting the Red Rain Unit.

“Haah….”

Hidden behind a wall, Hoeun let out a heavy sigh at the stench of blood. Gilsang, beside him, asked worriedly,

“Are you feeling unwell, young master?”

Gilsang’s wrist was wrapped tightly in bandages—cut to draw blood. And it wasn’t just him; every military god had bandaged wrists.

Only Taemuk, standing atop the tiled roof and dumping blood by the bucketful, bore no bandages. Not because he hadn’t bled—both wrists had been cut deeply—but because the wounds had already healed.

A few hours earlier, Taemuk had found an abandoned village on the map. They’d come straight here, drawn blood from the soldiers, splashed it from the village entrance all the way to the house, and finally drenched the house itself. The roof was soaked, the walls stained, blood dripping from the eaves and even beneath the wooden floor.

The smell was so strong it felt like it could reach Hanyang.

“No, I’m not in pain. I’m just… worried. Everyone’s shed blood—what if things don’t work out?”

Hoeun asked anxiously. The smell made him tense, uneasy. His heart pounded rapidly.

But Gilsang smiled instead.

“Don’t worry too much. It’ll work out.”

“But I’m afraid something might happen.”

“That’s what we’re here for. If nothing happens, that’s the real problem.”

Gilsang scrunched his brows deliberately. The expression—unusually playful and cheeky—made Hoeun smile despite himself.

“Yes… you’re right.”

If no sikgoe appeared, that would indeed be a disaster.

Just as Hoeun nodded and took a deep breath—

Thunk! Clatter, clatter.

A loud noise echoed through the village. Startled, Hoeun peeked over the wall. The bucket that had held blood was rolling on the ground—thrown down from the roof. He looked up.

Taemuk ran a hand through his messy black hair, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled smoke as he paced the narrow roof. He kicked broken tiles aside and frowned at the blood staining his pant leg.

Everyone else was hidden—behind walls, houses, roofs.

Only Taemuk stood exposed.

Because a smart sikgoe might appear.

If no humans were visible, it might suspect a trap. And if that happened, others could be hurt.

So Taemuk chose to be the bait.