BW C215

Chapter 215

At that moment, one of the Shikgoe strode toward a mother and her child nearby. Its belly was already grotesquely swollen, yet it still seemed hungry—it moved to devour them anyway.

Hoeun sucked in a sharp breath.

I have to save them.

I can’t let a woman and a child die—

Just as that thought crossed his mind—

A black shadow shot forward faster than the eye could follow.

Thud.

Taemuk drove his knee into the side of the creature’s head.

The heavy blow shattered its teeth like glass and cracked its iron-hard helmet skull. But the Shikgoe didn’t die immediately. The impact made its entire body ripple, but its brain remained intact, keeping it alive for a moment longer.

Its face mangled, the Shikgoe opened its jaws wide toward Taemuk and let out a furious shriek.

KIEEEEEK!

Of course, Taemuk didn’t flinch.

Instead, he shoved his hand straight into its gaping mouth, grabbed its teeth, and wrenched upward.

Crack—!

The skull split completely from the jaw, and its brain matter spilled out in sticky clumps.

The Shikgoe’s body collapsed forward.

Thud!

“Ha…”

Hoeun let out a breath of relief.

He quickly checked the mother and child with his eyes, making sure they weren’t hurt. Then, without realizing it, he stepped forward—

Crunch.

Something broke under his foot.

Hoeun paused.

For some reason, he felt like he had stepped on something similar before. But he couldn’t remember what. In truth, he had lived too sheltered a life—too narrow a world—to have experienced many things like this.

Still—

A strange sense of déjà vu lingered.

“……”

He glanced down.

But he still couldn’t tell what he had stepped on. Whatever it was had already been crushed beyond recognition, half-buried in the dirt.

Hoeun lifted his foot.

Something sticky clung to the sole.

Frowning, as if entranced, he slowly crouched and stared at it.

It looked like… a black pot? Or perhaps a basket.

Something like that had been crushed beneath his foot.

Inside it was a dark red mass. It gave off a damp, stale smell.

Was it some kind of food container? Their belongings?

But no—it had been buried in the soil. Tangled with tree roots, it looked as though it had been there for quite some time.

Like something buried under snow all winter, only now revealed.

“This is…”

What is this?

Hoeun stared at it for a long time before reaching out and brushing away the dirt.

Normally, he wouldn’t have even looked at something like this—let alone touched it.

But something compelled him.

It felt like something he had to see.

And when he finally cleared away all the dirt—

“……”

Hoeun stopped breathing for a moment.

Meanwhile, Taemuk tossed aside the shattered skull of a Shikgoe and surveyed the area.

All eight were dead—reduced to pulp.

Even with nothing left to kill, he stood still for a moment, listening.

Were there more nearby? Would others come running at the scent of blood?

After a short while—

“You can move now.”

He shook the blood from his hands as he spoke.

At once, Hoeun dashed out from behind the tree and ran toward the most critically injured person.

One of those who had fought the Shikgoe—his side had been torn open badly.

Military god or not, it didn’t matter. He needed to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay now. Calm down. The Shikgoe are all dead. Don’t close your eyes—you have to stay conscious. I’ll call the elder—no, a doctor. Just hold on a little longer.”

As he spoke, Hoeun pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it against the wound.

But the man suddenly grabbed his wrist and said something—

“Намайг биш, өөр хүнийг түрүүлж туслаарай.”

Hoeun froze.

“I… don’t understand…”

The man spoke again, urgently.

“…You’re not from the Great Han Empire?”

Hoeun asked, startled.

“Tch… the room just emptied and now it’s full again. No rest, no rest.”

The old man grumbled as he hurried between rooms.

Medics scurried after him, their hands and clothes soaked in blood.

Sitting on the infirmary floor, watching them, Hoeun let out a faint sigh.

They had brought the survivors back to the Jeokudae camp.

Normally, outsiders—especially foreigners—wouldn’t be brought here. It was risky.

But their injuries were too severe. There was no time to move them to another town.

And as human beings—

They couldn’t just stand by and watch people die.

“How did they even end up there? There’s no town or village nearby…”

Hoeun asked, his gaze fixed on the room.

Beside him, Taemuk, cigarette in his mouth, replied lazily,

“There are plenty of places not marked on maps. Some exist one day and disappear the next. Some don’t exist, then suddenly do.”

A thick needle was stuck into his wrist.

They were drawing blood—for transfusions.

So for now, he had no choice but to stay here.

“I see.”

Hoeun nodded quietly, still holding Taemuk’s hand.

“Then they must have come from quite far away. Jeokudae has checked this area dozens of times—there were no people or Shikgoe.”

“Probably. But one thing’s certain—they’re not from our country.”

“Yes… It seems so. We can’t even understand each other. I don’t know how we’ll communicate…”

“……”

Taemuk clicked his tongue.

He had saved all kinds of beings—people, horses, dogs, even cats.

But foreigners?

This was a first.

Most neighboring countries had already fallen long ago.

He exhaled smoke through his teeth.

“……”

Hoeun’s gaze lingered on the needle in Taemuk’s wrist.

Watching blood flow steadily through the clear tube made it look painful.

Compared to being torn apart by Shikgoe, it was nothing—

And yet, it bothered him.

If they were alone, he would’ve pulled him into an embrace.

But with so many eyes around, all he could do was hold his hand.

So he intertwined their fingers.

Then scooted closer, pressing against him.

Taemuk stared at Hoeun’s profile.

I want to swallow that pale cheek whole.

Those fluttering eyelashes… one by one…

Completely unaware, Hoeun smoothed out the clothes beneath him, sat neatly with his knees together, and asked in a gentle voice,

“Are the other refugees in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. Told them to feed them first.”

“I’d like to meet them…”

“Let’s go after this is done.”

“Yes.”

Hoeun nodded.

They should give them time to adjust anyway.

Like they felt unfamiliar here—

This place must feel unfamiliar to them too.

He stayed quietly, holding Taemuk’s hand.

Then—

“Ah!”

He suddenly exclaimed.

His eyes drooped in disappointment.

Taemuk raised a brow.

“What is it?”

“…We didn’t see the azaleas.”

“Ah.”

Taemuk responded flatly.

Right—they had been on their way to see flowers.

But for him, the purpose had been walking with Hoeun, not the destination itself.

Hoeun, however, seemed genuinely disappointed.

“What should we do? Azaleas bloom briefly… we might not see them next time…”

“We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Will we have time? Don’t we need to escort the refugees to another town?”

“If not, we’ll see them next year.”

“…Next year?”

“Yeah. Next year. Flowers that bloom every year won’t suddenly stop.”

Taemuk replied casually.

“……”

Hoeun blinked slowly.

Next year.

The words felt strangely heavy.

On the battlefield, even tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed—let alone next year.

Next year…

Where would they be then?

Would they still be here? Somewhere else?

What would happen to the Shikgoe?

Would they succeed?

Or fail?

A flood of worries and expectations came rushing in—

But one concern stood above all.

“…Will you go on a walk with me next year too?”

What he really meant was—

Will I still be with you then?

Taemuk looked at him like he’d said something ridiculous.

“…What kind of obvious question is that?”

There was no hesitation.

No doubt.

As if a future where they weren’t together simply couldn’t exist.

And just like that—

Hoeun’s anxiety melted away.

He smiled softly and tightened his grip on Taemuk’s hand.

“Then… let’s go see them next year.”

Already, he found himself looking forward to next spring’s azaleas.

His feet, dangling from the floor, swung lightly back and forth.