BW C190

Chapter 190

“Ah…”

Hoeun’s lips parted helplessly.

Seongim was fast—nimble. He knew that well; they had run together in Ramjae-eup until their feet blistered raw. But now, shikgoe filled the area in every direction. No matter how skilled she was, she could still get hurt.

Without realizing it, Hoeun took a step after her—

Crack.

Something crunched beneath his foot. It felt like stepping on thin ice. Even under Hoeun’s light weight and small step, whatever it was shattered, caving in as his foot was swallowed downward. Startled by the strange sensation, Hoeun quickly shifted his weight forward. Just as he was about to look down at what he had stepped on—

“You must not go.”

Gilsang blocked him firmly.

So Hoeun couldn’t check what he’d crushed, nor could he chase after Seongim. He was forced to stand there, stunned and helpless.

That was when, far off in the darkness, the flashlight buried in the mud floated up—slowly, eerily. Then the light clicked off.

Someone had turned it off.

After that, nothing could be seen.

“Please…”

Hoeun bit down on his lip in rising panic. He didn’t care about the flashlight anymore. He just wanted Seongim to come back—safe, unharmed, whole.

But time passed.

And passed.

And Seongim did not return.

“Young Master.”

Gilsang called him in a heavy voice. Whether it meant we have to flee now or she isn’t coming back, Hoeun couldn’t tell.

Already soaked through by the rain, Hoeun’s face seemed to melt further, drenched with regret.

He should have run.

Why had he lingered here?

What had he thought he could do?

Because of his foolish stubbornness, Seongim—Seongim—

How was he supposed to face Gilsang after this? How would Gilsang ever look at him again? Seongim was his second, his friend, his lover. Hoeun felt like dropping to his knees and begging him to kill him instead.

Raindrops clung to his lashes as he slowly lowered the pistol he had been aiming—

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

Light, steady footsteps approached, skimming over the mud. Gilsang reflexively swung his sword toward the sound.

“……”

Seongim stood there, breathing hard. Sweat or rain streamed down her cheeks, impossible to tell which. One arm was smeared thick with mud, as if she had fallen on the way.

“Im…”

Gilsang whispered her name like a wound reopening.

Seongim met his eyes briefly—then turned to Hoeun. She extended her hand, unclenching what she’d been gripping tightly.

The flashlight, caked in mud.

“……”

Hoeun couldn’t bring himself to take it right away.

He was grateful—no, in awe—that she had retrieved it. And yet, he felt miserable. Who was he, to make her take such a risk?

But Hoeun forced himself to steady his heart. With a solemn expression, he accepted the flashlight.

“Thank you, Seongim-nim.”

Since she had gone this far, he had to succeed. He couldn’t let her courage—or anyone’s—be wasted.

Seongim smiled faintly, then drew her sword and returned to guarding Hoeun’s back.

Hoeun rubbed the mud off the flashlight with the hem of his silk robe, then raised the pistol toward where the shikgoe had been. He aligned the flashlight directly beneath the barrel.

“Hoo…”

After one deep breath—

Click.

The flashlight snapped on.

A blinding beam split the darkness clean in two. And the instant the light struck the antennaed shikgoe’s face—

Bang!

The trigger was pulled.

The bullet tore through the air with a sharp whit, punching straight through the creature’s golden antenna. The soft flesh ripped open, one side tearing long and deep, the fan-shaped form collapsing in on itself.

Krak!

The shikgoe’s entire body lurched violently, as if shoved by an unseen force.

But it didn’t die.

Its antenna moved more sluggishly now, yet it still trembled—chrrk, chrrk—refusing to stop.

Kiiieee…

Its crimson eyes slowly slid toward Hoeun.

It stared at him.

At the gun.

At the flashlight beneath it.

Then—

KIIIEEEEEK!

Clack—KAAAH!

KAAAAAH!

It screamed louder than before.

The mangled antenna vibrated frantically, and dozens of shikgoe nodded as if responding to orders.

And then—

They charged.

Exactly as Hoeun had anticipated.

The ground shook under their violent rush. But Hoeun didn’t move. Eyes wide, breath held, he pulled the trigger again.

Bang!

Thud.

This time the bullet slammed into the side of the creature’s skull. The first bullet gleamed silver beneath it, embedded deep.

The shikgoe brushed a hand across the impact site—then fixed Hoeun with an even sharper glare.

“……”

“……”

Hoeun met its gaze without flinching and aimed again.

If it were an ordinary shikgoe, it would already be dead. But the antennaed one kept jerking its head erratically to command others—its movements utterly irregular, making a clean shot maddeningly difficult.

Hoeun inhaled—

By then, several shikgoe had already reached him.

And behind them came many more.

Those clinging to trees dropped down with heavy thuds, charging. Even the ones fighting soldiers—those chewing on flesh—abandoned their meals and swarmed toward Hoeun.

Seeing this, Dongja—who had been driving a spear through a shikgoe’s throat—snapped her head up. She spotted Hoeun holding the flashlight, the beam fixed on the antennaed shikgoe, and instantly understood.

“Protect the Young Master! Protect him! Get to him! You must protect the General’s second!”

At her command, soldiers began turning toward Hoeun. In the pitch-black chaos, the lone beam of light made him stand out unmistakably.

Blood-soaked soldiers roared as they sprinted toward him.

Yet amid the turmoil, Hoeun focused solely on the antennaed shikgoe.

And when the crimson eye finally aligned with his sights—

Bang!

He fired.

Hoeun knew it instantly.

This time, I hit it.

This time, I destroyed its eye.

This time, I killed it.

But—

“No…”

The bullet never reached the eye.

Another shikgoe had thrown itself in front, shielding the antennaed one with its body. The bullet punched through the lesser shikgoe’s neck instead. As it fell, another immediately took its place.

“Hah…”

Despair washed over Hoeun.

Like this, he could fire a hundred shots and never kill it. Kill one shield, and another would replace it—again and again.

What do I do?

What do I do?

What do I do?

He adjusted his grip on the pistol, his thoughts racing so hard his temples throbbed.

Meanwhile, Jeokudae soldiers fought desperately to keep the shikgoe from reaching him. With the creatures now on the ground, combat was easier—but their numbers were overwhelming. Kill one, and three more rushed in.

Then—

A shikgoe lunged and bit down on someone’s arm near Hoeun, tearing it off with a wet crunch.

“Hrrrk—!”

The scream sounded dull and distant.

Rain.

Battle cries.

Clashing steel.

Shrieks.

Flesh tearing.

The noise stuffed Hoeun’s ears until they felt ready to burst.

“……”

His hands began to tremble.

What if I can’t kill it?

What if I fail?

What if everything collapses because of me?

What if they all die—

Hoeun was pale, on the verge of dropping the gun.

“Don’t let them reach the Young Master! Push them! Just shove them back!”

Dongja’s voice speared through the chaos.

Hoeun’s eyes flew open.

He swung the flashlight toward the fir tree where the antennaed shikgoe perched.

“Dongja-noona! Dongja-noona!”

“Young Master!”

“That tree—bring it down!”

“……”

Dongja whipped her head around. One glance was enough. She sprinted toward the tree at terrifying speed.

Several shikgoe tried to block her path. She slammed through them with her shoulder, with her body—sending them flying like broken dolls.

For a brief moment, Hoeun saw Taemuk’s back in her silhouette.

Reaching the tree, Dongja gripped her spear with both hands and drove it in hard.

Crack!

The thick trunk split—but didn’t fall. It was waterlogged, tougher than steel.

She stabbed again. And again.

Still nothing.

“Ah, fuck this!”

Dongja threw the spear aside—and punched the tree.

BOOM!

The entire trunk shuddered. Rain pooled in the branches crashed down like hail.

The shikgoe above shrieked—but Dongja ignored them, hammering the tree again and again.

Several shikgoe rushed her, sinking teeth into her shoulder, her arm, her thigh, her side.

She didn’t blink.

She just kept punching.

And when her fists were soaked red with her own blood—

CRRRRK.

The tree split along its grain, cracking apart.

Slowly.

It began to fall.

 

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