BW C194

Chapter 194

Unable to endure it any longer, Hoeun suddenly sprang to his feet and went outside—

—or rather, he tried to.

Before stepping out, however, he paused for a moment, glancing down at his attire. He adjusted the ties of his jacket, straightened the ribbons, and tightened the slightly loosened hair ribbon at the back of his head.

And when he was finally ready to go outside—

Bang!

He flung the door open as if he meant to break it. The thin paper door let out a shrill creak, crying out in protest. Using that sound as momentum, Hoeun stepped out onto the wooden floor.

“……”

The courtyard was silent.

No— the entire world was silent.

The moon, yet to meet the rising sun, hung faintly in the dim sky, and the pale, frigid air of dawn wrapped itself around Hoeun.

“……”

With wide, burning eyes, Hoeun scanned the encampment.

As expected—Taemuk was nowhere to be seen.

Grinding his lower teeth from side to side in frustration, Hoeun drew in a deep breath.

Then, with all his strength, he shouted—

“Where are you?!”

His voice rang out thunderously, shattering the stillness of dawn. The soldiers who had been asleep would surely awaken in shock, but Hoeun had no room left to consider such things.

“Until you come, General— I will stay here! Right here!”

Each word was punctuated by the pounding of his heels against the wooden floor.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“I’ll stay all night! Until sunrise! No—even after the sun rises, I’ll still—!”

By the end, his voice had turned into something more desperate than shouting—almost a cry of defiance.

But it did not last long.

His throat burned as though it were tearing apart.

Even something as simple as raising his voice caused pain in his frail body.

“Koff, koff! Ngh—koff, koff…”

Clutching his throat, Hoeun coughed violently. He swallowed dryly, thumped his chest, but nothing helped.

Then the fever surged again.

This time, it was not from anger—but from illness.

His vision blurred instantly. It felt as though blood were draining from his fingertips and toes, as though his legs had lost all strength.

His body slowly began to pitch forward.

“…Seriously…”

I hate this body.

His face twisted in frustration as he squeezed his eyes shut—

Thud.

A hand caught him at the chest.

It was large, firm, and burning hot.

Hoeun immediately recognized its owner.

“You must have too much energy—shouting like that at dawn.”

It was Taemuk.

“…General?”

Through hazy vision, Hoeun looked up at him. He had already known it was him—but he needed to see it with his own eyes.

Yet before he could even take him in properly, his body was lifted.

“Let’s go inside.”

At those words, Hoeun struggled.

“I don’t want to. Put me down.”

Taemuk ignored him and tried to carry him inside.

Hoeun grabbed the doorframe with his thin hands and held on. The wood creaked and groaned as though it might snap.

At his stubborn resistance, Taemuk frowned in irritation.

“Let go.”

“You let go.”

“Choi Hoeun.”

“Put me down!”

Hoeun flailed wildly, thrashing like a fish newly pulled onto land.

But it lasted only a moment.

From deep within his core, a violent cough surged up.

Even as he coughed as though he might spit blood, he did not release the doorframe.

With a heavy sigh, Taemuk finally set him down.

The moment he did, Hoeun shoved him.

Of course, the one who stumbled back was himself.

“Ah—”

As Hoeun began to fall backward, Taemuk grabbed his elbow—but Hoeun slapped his hand away.

Then, glaring fiercely, he looked up at him.

“What. What is it.”

Taemuk responded lazily, accepting his anger without resistance.

Even so, one of his hands hovered near Hoeun’s side—ready to catch him if he fell again. The way Hoeun stood, unsteady and tilted, made him uneasy.

“……”

Hoeun simply glared at him without answering.

Taemuk was once again drenched in blood. His uniform gleamed darkly where the blood had dried, and his face and neck were speckled with it.

And yet—perhaps he had washed somewhere—his hands were clean.

“…Are you hurt?”

Hoeun asked, almost accusingly.

“No.”

Taemuk replied indifferently.

“You are.”

Hoeun stepped closer, his voice firm with certainty.

I saw it.

The torn flesh. The parts that had been chewed away.

Why are you lying?

His expression said all of that.

“……”

Taemuk remained silent.

He had no intention of engaging in a pointless argument.

Taking another step closer, Hoeun said,

“Hold me.”

At that, Taemuk stepped back.

“I don’t want to.”

Though it was only a single step, the difference in their strides made the distance between them grow wider than before.

Hoeun found that unbearably irritating—and infuriating.

Grinding his teeth, he suddenly reached out both arms.

“I’m cold. Hold me.”

“……”

Taemuk’s eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, toward Hoeun’s pale hands.

But before his gaze could fully settle, he quickly turned his head away.

He did not trust himself to endure it if he looked.

“Then go inside. Cover yourself with blankets. I’ll light the fire.”

“I don’t want to.”

“…What exactly do you want, then?”

“I want you to hold me, General.”

At Hoeun’s stubborn insistence, Taemuk let out a short sigh, dragging a hand across his face as though scrubbing away his fatigue.

His face was worn with exhaustion. There was no vitality, no color—dry and lifeless, not unlike Dongja’s.

It was hard to believe he had been eating properly at all.

Still holding his arms out, Hoeun slowly stepped toward him.

He wanted to hold him.

No—he needed to.

But Taemuk took another step back and warned in a cold voice,

“Choi Hoeun. Listen before I get angry. Go inside.”

But Hoeun was not afraid.

Not at all.

He slowly lowered his outstretched arms, then spoke in a quiet, gentle voice—one that Taemuk could not possibly refuse.

“I know you want to feel the pain.”

“……”

“But I’ll only hold you.”

“……”

“No more, no less. Just that.”

At those words, Taemuk’s cheek twitched slightly.

His dark eyes wavered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

He was hesitating.

Watching him, Hoeun curved his eyes playfully and smiled.

“I won’t untie my ribbons, and I won’t untie yours either. So you don’t have to be afraid.”

At that, Taemuk let out a quiet, helpless chuckle.

Hoeun—so innocent—was far too strong.

He had never once been able to win against him, and he likely never would.

With that face, that voice, that smile—

How could he possibly refuse?

As the tension softened, Hoeun sat down on the wooden floor and patted the space beside him.

“Sit.”

“Fine. Fine. But let’s go inside first. It’s cold.”

“No. I like it here.”

“You really are—”

“Hurry.”

With an ambiguous expression, Taemuk tugged at his ear before finally sitting beside him.

As if he had been waiting, Hoeun immediately climbed onto his thigh. He smoothed out his rumpled clothes, pushed back his tied hair, and then leaned fully into Taemuk’s embrace.

At once, he felt the heat radiating from Taemuk’s body.

It was so intense that it felt as though he had stepped into flames.

It worried him—

And yet, at the same time, his body melted into it.

Because it was comforting.

Because it was Taemuk.

Because it was the embrace he had longed for over the past days.

During the three days without him, Hoeun had not slept properly once.

Without Taemuk’s warmth, scent, and presence, it had felt like trying to sleep without a pillow or blanket.

If not for the fever knocking him unconscious, he might have stayed awake all three nights.

Like a squirrel returning to its nest, Hoeun savored the comfort for a moment, closing his eyes lightly and breathing softly.

“……”

For a while, Taemuk did not move.

Then, after swallowing once, he slowly embraced Hoeun in return.

The moment their bodies touched, something heavy and burning surged up within him like a flood.

His entire body stiffened. He could not breathe.

Then suddenly, all the strength drained from him.

It felt—

As though, after wandering endlessly through battle, he had finally returned home.

He wrapped Hoeun tightly in his arms, burying his face into the pale curve of his neck, pressing his nose into his soft skin, breathing him in as deeply as he could.

“……”

“……”

For a long while, they simply held each other.

The emptiness within them—riddled with holes like something gnawed away—slowly began to fill.

As though they had once been one from the very beginning, they finally felt whole again.

After some time, as Taemuk gently traced his hands over Hoeun, he belatedly realized—

He was covered in blood.

“I’m covered in blood.”

He did not want the filthy blood of the Shikgoe to stain Hoeun’s delicate skin or his clothes.

So he tried to pull away—

“It’s okay.”

Hoeun clung to him stubbornly.

Though his strength was slight, Taemuk did not push him away.

Instead, he wrapped one large hand around Hoeun’s back—

Because he did not want the cold wind to touch him.