BW C203

Chapter 203

The rank insignia of Second Lieutenant that Taemuk wore—it was something the pig had once worn on his own shoulder long ago and then passed down to him. Only now did Taemuk understand why the Taegeuk emblem stitched into it had been so faded.

He had always thought rank and insignia didn’t matter—but learning the truth left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Anyway—

just like that, the unit was abandoned.

A unit made up of nothing but people worse than beasts, without a single noble among them—no one cared, no one looked their way. The military provisions were cut off, and so were the orders to kill Shikgoe. But since they were already in the middle of the battlefield, they couldn’t simply stop fighting.

The unit seemed to be on the verge of disbanding.

Those who were not Military Gods could return to villages, find work, till the fields, and live safely. Those who were Military Gods would have to join other units and continue as soldiers.

But strangely—

no one wanted to leave.

They naturally gathered around Taemuk and began murmuring among themselves.

“Can’t we just… stay like this? I kinda like it here…”

“Me too. I like it here.”

“Why wouldn’t it work? As long as we kill those Shikgoe bastards, right?”

“That’s right, that’s right.”

“If we go to another unit, the leader will just be some noble again. They’ll use us as cannon fodder to earn merit.”

“Hey, idiot. Call it Shikgoe fodder.”

“Whatever. We’ll die if we go. That’s the point.”

“That’s true.”

People of all ages and genders spoke up one by one. Some had been in the unit as long as Taemuk. Others had only recently joined.

“Hmm… then how about we form our own unit?”

“Can we even do that?”

“Why not? It’s not like we’re robbing anyone. We’re killing Shikgoe. Do we really need the country’s permission?”

Taemuk sat under the base of a tree, sheltering from the rain, smoking without a word.

It was suffocating—the thought that he had nowhere to go, that he no longer belonged anywhere.

Just because that useless pig died, everything vanished.

The ten years he had spent on the battlefield felt like they’d been thrown into the mud. It left a foul feeling. And there was bitterness too—thinking that ranks like “Second Lieutenant” had never really suited someone lowborn like him in the first place.

“Right. That Taemuk over there should be the leader, huh? We’ll be his subordinates. Wouldn’t that work?”

That, however, wasn’t something he could ignore.

Taemuk, chewing the end of his cigarette, frowned and asked—

“You want me to be the leader?”

“Then who else in this unit could be leader but you?”

“What about that guy over there?”

Taemuk jerked his chin toward the Lieutenant leaning against the tree.

“Eh…”

The soldiers pulled their chins in and frowned.

“Eh…”

Even the Lieutenant made the same sound, grimacing.

“……”

Taemuk let out a sigh.

He was only eighteen—so why were these grown adults acting like this?

Yet the discussion continued, centered around Taemuk—but excluding him entirely.

“Taemuk’s perfect. He even made it to Second Lieutenant.”

“Of course. Bring all the lieutenants in the world—our Taemuk would beat them all.”

“Yeah, a leader should be strong and young, right?”

“That’s right. The old way of picking leaders just because they’re older—that doesn’t work anymore.”

“Good. Let’s make Taemuk the leader.”

“I agree.”

“Same here.”

And just like that—

Taemuk became the leader.

He simply sat there, blowing out smoke with a what the hell is this expression.

“Then… should we pick a name for the unit?”

“Oh, oh! No need to think hard. People already call us… uh… the Red Unit or something.”

“The Red Unit? What kind of name is that? No style at all.”

“It’s because of that Taemuk over there.”

At the mention of his name again, Taemuk raised one eyebrow.

“What about me?”

“You run around covered head to toe in blood like a ghost, saving people! And you kill Shikgoe in such a flashy way too. You could just stab their heads, but why do you crack them open like that? It’s messy as hell…”

“…It kills them more reliably.”

Taemuk muttered, wiping rain off his face with his palm.

He used to carry weapons properly, but at some point, he started fighting barehanded. The weapons given to soldiers were poor quality, and maintaining them was a hassle.

Still—did that mean he deserved nagging?

He wrinkled his nose, then glanced at the Lieutenant. It was a look that meant do something about this.

The Lieutenant simply showed him the sword at his waist—

I have a weapon. You don’t.

Taemuk felt the urge to burn his eyes with the cigarette.

“Anything better than ‘Red Unit’?”

“How about ‘Crimson Unit’?”

“That’s the same thing, idiot.”

“Then if we want something cool—how about ‘Tiger Unit’? Brave, fierce—huh?”

“Mm… a bit childish…”

“I—I’ve got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“How about ‘Daehan Unit’? Like… representing the country, right? Sounds good.”

“Eh… but people already call us the Red Unit. The meaning should match, right?”

“Then what? Red is red…”

After a round of noisy arguing, silence fell.

No one seemed to have any better ideas. Only eyes rolled around.

The sound of rain filled the quiet.

Taemuk stared at the heavy downpour as if it might pierce the ground.

Then—

“How about Jeokudae.”

The Lieutenant, who had only been coughing until now, finally spoke.

Everyone looked at him.

“Jeokudae? What’s that supposed to mean?”

As the Lieutenant was about to answer, someone in the crowd spoke first.

“Is it written with the character for ‘red’ and the character for ‘rain’—Jeok (赤) and U (雨)?”

Now everyone looked at him.

“Huh? What does red have to do with rain?”

“It could mean that wherever we pass, it’s as if red rain falls. That we’ve killed that many Shikgoe—and that we’ve fought battles so hard, blood overflowed.”

The explanation came in a calm, steady voice.

People looked back at the Lieutenant, as if asking if that was correct.

He shrugged.

“Well… that’s a nicer interpretation than I had, but it’s close enough.”

“Wow… with a meaning like that, it sounds strong. Enemies would piss themselves hearing it.”

“You’ve seen Shikgoe piss before?”

“No, I’m just saying… but it does sound cool. Jeokudae. Rolls right off the tongue.”

The group murmured, then began laughing, apparently liking the name.

Then someone asked the soldier who had explained it—

“By the way, who are you?”

It made sense—he wasn’t a familiar face.

Unlike the others, who wore their uniforms carelessly, his clothes were neat, his features orderly, and though his face looked almost boyish, his eyes were resolute.

Just as he was about to speak—

someone else answered for him.

“He’s from that… what was it… the military academy, right?”

“Military academy?”

“You know, when we went near Hanyang because of the Shikgoe attack—we saved him then. He wanted to enlist, so we took him in.”

“Wow… a military academy? Then is he… a noble?”

“Ugh… a noble? That’s uncomfortable.”

“I don’t like nobles either. If he’s a noble, there are plenty of places he can go.”

“Yeah, I heard there’s a unit led by a noble Military God somewhere. Rich family, treats subordinates well… apparently even has a decent personality for a noble. People are desperate to get in. Why not go there?”

“How do you know all that? Want to go there yourself?”

“No way. I like it here.”

“Quiet. So is he really a noble?”

“Probably not. You don’t have to be a noble to attend the academy. He’s probably a commoner.”

The young soldier walked through the crowd without reacting, then stopped in front of Taemuk.

Taemuk didn’t even look at him—just kept staring at the rain, cigarette in his mouth.

Then—

the soldier bowed deeply.

“Thank you for saving me back then. I couldn’t find the chance to greet you until now.”

Taemuk tilted his head and looked at him, then replied in a disinterested tone—

“Me? Save you?”

At that, people groaned and laughed at the same time, patting the young soldier’s shoulders.

“Don’t take it personally. Taemuk’s saved too many people—he can’t remember them all.”

“Yeah, don’t feel bad. He once kicked me out of a Shikgoe’s mouth ten times and still didn’t remember me. Bastard—couldn’t he use his hands instead?”

But the soldier didn’t seem upset.

Instead, he straightened his posture and said firmly—

“It’s alright. I’ll work hard so you’ll remember me from now on.”

Then he bowed again and clearly stated his name.

“Yoon Byeonguk, sir.”