BW C210

Chapter 210

Hoeun headed to the infirmary again today, just as he had every day before. Walking slowly downhill with his hands clasped behind his back, someone beside him spoke.

“Spring really is here. It’s warm during the day now.”

It was Chilbok.

“Yeah. It really is spring now…”

Hoeun replied with a small smile. The cold that had seemed like it would rage on forever had finally eased. It still snowed occasionally, and once the sun set, it was cold enough to make one shiver—but even so, it was clear that spring had come.

No matter how late it is, spring always comes.

Looking at the piles of snow left abandoned in the shaded corners beneath the walls, Hoeun recalled something Taemuk had once said.

Then, at the clinking sound, he turned his gaze toward Chilbok—or more precisely, toward the tray Chilbok was carrying.

“Isn’t it heavy? I could at least carry one of the bowls…”

On the tray were a large bowl of porridge, dried radish leaf soup, and several side dishes of salted foods. It wasn’t especially heavy, but in Chilbok’s small hands, it looked burdensome. And since it was technically Hoeun’s responsibility, it made him feel even worse.

After all, that warm porridge was meant for Dongja.

Hoeun had offered to carry it, but ever since he had spilled it once before, Chilbok absolutely refused to let him touch the tray. Instead, he always accompanied him like this to the infirmary.

“Oh, it’s fine.”

Chilbok refused immediately.

Hoeun started to say something more, then stopped. He knew he couldn’t win against Chilbok’s stubbornness. It made him feel apologetic that his own shortcomings had only made things more troublesome for Chilbok—but he couldn’t just stop visiting the infirmary either.

Soon, Hoeun stepped into the infirmary courtyard. Over the past few days, the bloodstains that had pooled here and there had disappeared, and the place had grown much quieter. Those who had to leave had left, and those who survived had entered recovery.

“Dongja noona, I’m here.”

Hoeun bowed slightly toward Dongja, who was sitting on the wooden floor.

“Oh, young master, you’re here?”

Dongja greeted him more brightly than before. But her face looked worse. Pale, dry, and haggard—it was the face of someone who hadn’t overcome grief and despair, but instead had grown accustomed to them.

“Please eat, noona.”

Chilbok set the porridge in front of her.

“Oh, Chilbok, you came too? Why’d you bring all this…”

Dongja welcomed Chilbok, but not the food. Sensing the dullness in her eyes, Chilbok pushed the tray closer.

“Just eat a little. I, uh… even added a precious egg to the porridge.”

Though he didn’t make it obvious, Chilbok was worried about her too. They had bickered often, but they had been together for a long time.

Dongja stared at him—strong and tough, yet still unable to shed the traces of youth. Even in her dazed state from worrying about Mansu, she couldn’t ignore the sincerity of a kid who had gone as far as adding egg for her.

“You added egg?”

She deliberately raised her voice a bit and scooted closer to the tray.

Seeing that, Hoeun and Chilbok’s faces brightened noticeably. Maybe she would finally take a bite—

“Dongja! Dongja!”

Just as she picked up the spoon, the old man shouted from inside.

“What!”

Dongja threw the spoon down and rushed into the room. She moved faster than anything they had seen before—like an eagle diving.

Startled, Hoeun and Chilbok leaned in to look inside.

Mansu had his eyes open.

For the first time.

Since returning, he had convulsed at times, but never once regained consciousness—until now.

“…Mansu?”

Dongja called out, as if unable to believe it. Then she collapsed to her knees on the spot.

“Mansu… Mansu…”

She called his name over and over, crawling toward him.

“M-Mansu, can you see me? Do you know who I am? Huh?”

“……”

Mansu didn’t respond. His face was pale as if dusted with flour, his gaze fixed blankly on the ceiling.

Dongja, trembling, kept stroking his forehead and cheeks.

“Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you hear me? Or does it hurt? Huh? Or are you hungry? What should I do? What can I do for you?”

“……”

At her desperate plea, Mansu’s gaze finally shifted to her.

After staring for a moment, his dry lips moved—but they wouldn’t part easily after being sealed for days. The old man gently pressed a damp cloth to them.

And finally, Mansu spoke.

“Dong…ja…”

“Y-yes, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Even as she answered, Dongja kept touching him, afraid he might disappear like a corpse if she let go.

Mansu looked at her quietly, then asked in a hoarse voice,

“You haven’t eaten?”

“…Huh?”

“You’ve lost a lot of weight. Eat. Eat.”

“……”

At those words, Dongja’s stiff expression slowly crumpled. Tears welled up instantly, falling like late snowflakes.

“M-Mansu… Mansu…”

She buried her face in his chest.

Mansu instinctively tried to lift his arm—only to realize it was no longer there. Then he used his remaining hand to gently rub her back.

“Hey… you’re all skin and bones too. Don’t cry. Eat.”

“It won’t go down without you…!”

“Why wouldn’t I be here? I’m right here. Eat. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay here, so eat.”

He patted her back softly.

At that, Dongja’s sobs grew louder—almost like screams. She stomped her feet and shook her head.

Watching her, Hoeun thought—

She looks like a child.

Dongja had always been somewhat impulsive, but she was still an adult—a pillar of Jeokudae. Yet seeing her cry like this made his chest ache.

It showed just how much Mansu meant to her.

Feeling that emotion so vividly, Hoeun’s own eyes filled with tears.

“That’s a relief… really… a relief…”

He murmured with a strange mix of laughter and tears.

Then someone tugged his hand.

It was Chilbok, standing behind him, pulling gently.

Hoeun blinked in confusion, then quickly understood and smiled.

“Right. We should give them some space.”

The two quietly stepped away. The porridge they had brought was growing cold, but it didn’t matter.

It seemed Dongja would be asking for food soon anyway.

“……”

A mound of rice as big as Hoeun’s fist disappeared into Dongja’s mouth in one gulp. Watching her eat without spilling a single grain was both impressive—and a little frightening.

Once, Taemuk had said she looked like a Shikgoe when she ate.

Rude as it was, Hoeun could now understand a little.

“E-eat slowly.”

“Mm.”

They were now sitting on a wooden platform in front of the thatched kitchen used by the cooks.

Mansu had fallen asleep again after waking, and Hoeun had been helping Chilbok in the kitchen when Dongja came looking for food.

Once she got her meal, Dongja swung her spoon mercilessly, like she was striking down Shikgoe. Every movement destroyed whatever food it touched.

Hoeun was occasionally startled, but mostly watched with a warm smile.

Seeing her eat made it feel like something that had been out of place was finally returning to where it belonged.

“Chilbok made this this morning. Try it.”

Hoeun cleared an empty dish and pushed a vegetable side dish toward her.

With her mouth full, Dongja responded vaguely and grabbed all the vegetables in one motion, swallowing them almost without chewing.

“Good. It’s good.”

“……”

Hoeun stared blankly at the now-empty plate. It was hard to believe what he had just seen.

Just as Taemuk had sharp hearing and sight, Dongja clearly had an extraordinary ability—to devour food.

While Hoeun was still staring at the empty plate, Dongja, who was chewing through a dried fish—including the bones—finally asked,

“Did you eat, young master?”

“Ah, yes. I did.”

“You didn’t just nibble like a mouse and call it eating, right?”

“No. I ate with the General.”

“Oh, then you ate more than mouse droppings, at least.”

“…Yes, I did.”

Hoeun smiled softly. It was a little embarrassing that everyone seemed to know how particular Taemuk was—but it didn’t feel bad.

It just meant Taemuk’s affection was obvious to anyone.

“What about the captain? Did he go out again?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Did those pest-like bastards show up again?”

“No, not that… He just seems to have a lot on his mind after what happened.”

“Mm, yeah?”

Dongja asked, but didn’t seem particularly interested, focusing instead on eating.

One bowl emptied, then another.

When she reached her fourth bowl, Chilbok set down another steaming bowl of rice with a thud. He sniffed once, then returned to the kitchen without a word.