BW C196

Chapter 196

Clad in expensive silk garments, with his hair tied in a ribbon, the Young Master was the only son of this household. As such, he had been raised like gold and jade, treasured beyond measure, and from head to toe, he exuded refinement and nobility.

“Greetings.”

Taemuk bowed deeply in greeting.

The Young Master did not return it. Instead, he stepped straight into the stable. His spotless shoes, not a speck of dust upon them, trampled boldly across the filthy floor.

Taemuk narrowed his eyes, watching the boy’s feet intently. If even a trace of horse dung were to cling to them, it would be Taemuk who was punished.

Why he should be punished for filth the Young Master himself stepped into, he did not know.

But such was the life of the lowborn.

“You were stealing the horses’ feed again, weren’t you?”

The Young Master thrust his pale face forward as he spoke. His eyebrows were thin with youth, but his eyes gleamed sharply.

They were eyes like those of a Shikgoe.

In truth, Taemuk had never seen one.

He had been born and raised within a town protected by thick, towering walls. Creatures like that did not reach such places.

But still—

He could imagine their eyes.

They would surely look just like the Young Master’s.

Shikgoe devoured people.

And the Young Master devoured him.

“No.”

Taemuk shook his head slowly.

He had envied the horses, eating beans and barley—but he had never stolen from them. It was their portion. To take it would be theft.

His father had taught him that stealing was wrong.

But the Young Master’s brows rose sharply as he shouted,

“You were stealing it! Why are you lying?!”

His once delicate voice tore into something harsh and grating.

Taemuk’s shoulders flinched.

They were the same age—but the Young Master’s voice carried something else.

A dark force.

Perhaps that was what made their stations different.

“I’m not lying.”

Taemuk replied in a subdued voice, though his gaze remained fixed on him.

There was something defiant in his eyes.

The Young Master hesitated, stepping back half a pace, then pointed at him furiously.

“You dare look me in the eye?!”

Looking back now, perhaps the Young Master had been afraid of him.

Though they were the same age, Taemuk was taller, his bones stronger.

The Young Master had to be the best—he had been born to be so.

But Taemuk’s very existence made that impossible.

Perhaps that stirred something like inferiority within him.

“…I’m sorry.”

Taemuk lowered his gaze obediently.

His hands came together neatly.

From his short life, he already knew—

No matter how he resisted, he could not win.

The Young Master, still fuming, glared at Taemuk’s cold-reddened cheeks and ragged clothes.

Then suddenly, he smiled.

A small, almost cute smile.

“You’re hungry, right?”

“……”

Taemuk hesitated.

He did not know what answer would spare him from torment.

As he faltered, the Young Master pressed,

“You are hungry.”

“…Yes. I am.”

Taemuk nodded faintly.

He had eaten nothing all day.

And likely, every servant in the household was the same.

On days when snow fell heavily, there was always more work to do.

His father and mother, too, must be somewhere in the cold, breathing into their hands as they labored.

“Then eat that.”

The Young Master pointed somewhere.

Following his finger, Taemuk turned his head.

It was the feed.

The horses’ feed.

“That’s for the horses.”

Taemuk said flatly.

Outwardly calm—yet his heart pounded heavily.

He could already foresee the misfortune to come.

“You eat it too. Father says lowborn creatures are all beasts. Those horses are beasts, and you are a beast too. So it’s only natural for you to eat it.”

“……”

“I’ll keep it a secret from Father. So don’t worry.”

Nonsense.

That was what Taemuk thought.

But he did not say it aloud.

Instead, he thought desperately—

How could he avoid eating it?

But what could an eight-year-old possibly devise?

“…I’m not hungry anymore.”

He changed his answer.

It was the best he could manage.

But the Young Master’s eyes turned sharp again—like a Shikgoe.

“Liar!”

His shout echoed through the stable.

The horses startled, neighing and stomping.

Yes—there was something in his voice.

Something dark.

Something grotesque.

As Taemuk’s expression faintly twisted at the ringing in his ears—

The Young Master rushed forward, his silk garments fluttering like wings, and grabbed Taemuk by the hair.

Then he dragged him to the trough and forced his head down into it.

For an eight-year-old, his strength was astonishing.

So this was what eating meat at every meal did, Taemuk thought distantly—even now.

“Eat!”

“…I don’t want to.”

Even as his hair was yanked, Taemuk did not cry out.

It hurt.

It was unbearable.

But he refused to show it.

It was a foolish pride.

And that pride only angered the Young Master further.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll tell Father! I’ll say you’re ill-mannered, that your parents raised you wrong! Do you want to see them beaten?!”

“……”

How could such a reason justify beating his parents?

But that was the privilege of the noble class.

They could beat, kick, even kill the lowborn without cause.

He knew this well.

It had happened countless times before.

The Young Master, who read difficult books from a young age, was not only intelligent but cunning.

With convincing lies, he would corner Taemuk—

And his punishment would fall upon his parents.

This time would be no different.

Taemuk inhaled deeply, the cold air filling his lungs.

“…I’ll eat.”

If he did not, his parents would suffer.

They already labored until their bodies ached each night.

He could not let them be beaten for the sake of his pride.

It was only feed.

What did it matter?

And as the Young Master said—

Was he not a beast?

Taemuk grabbed a handful of feed and brought it to his mouth.

Then, like an animal, he chewed.

Hay, beans, barley—they rolled in his mouth like stones.

Sour.

Musty.

With the taste of dirt and something rancid.

“Tasty, isn’t it?”

The Young Master asked, his eyes gleaming.

When Taemuk did not answer, he shook his hair violently.

“Say it’s good!”

“……”

Taemuk could not answer immediately.

The feed filled his mouth, stubborn and unyielding.

It was not cooked. Worse, it was frozen solid from the winter cold.

He chewed until his teeth ached, until finally he swallowed.

Then he said calmly,

“It’s good.”

The Young Master seemed pleased.

Releasing Taemuk’s hair, he clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin proudly.

Looking down at Taemuk—who was half a head taller—he grinned.

“You’re really fortunate. Where else would you find a master as generous as me?”

“……”

“You’re grateful, right?”

“…Yes. Thank you, Young Master.”

“Aren’t you thirsty? Drink some water too.”

This time, he pointed to the water trough.

Taemuk looked inside.

The ice he had just broken earlier had already frozen over again.

“It’s frozen.”

At that, the Young Master shouted again,

“Idiot! Just lick it!”

“……”

Taemuk realized—

There was no escaping him.

He did not know why the boy had taken a dislike to him—but until his mood passed, he would have to endure it.

Resigned, Taemuk walked toward the trough.

He bent down and looked inside.

“……”

Between the ice, hay and dirt were tangled together.

At the bottom, small stones and leaves had settled.

The water smelled—of stagnation, of animals.

If he drank it, he might fall ill.

Though perhaps it no longer mattered.

He leaned further in, as if falling into the trough itself.

His heels lifted, the edge pressing into his abdomen.

And just as his lips neared the ice—

Kiiieeeeeek!

A grotesque sound tore through the sky.

He had never heard such a sound before.

His body froze.

Goosebumps raced down his spine.

His hair stood on end.

It was a sound that felt… wrong.

Startled, Taemuk jerked upright.

The Young Master, too, had heard it—he turned toward the stable entrance.

Then—

His pale ears seemed to perk up.

He was smiling.

“Father must have bought another horse! He promised to buy me one next! A magnificent white horse!”

Bragging as he spoke, the Young Master ran outside.

The silk ribbon in his hair fluttered like a butterfly.

Taemuk watched him go, dazed.

Whether a new horse had arrived or not—

At least the Young Master had left.

And for that, he felt relieved.