BW C216

Chapter 216

“The Captain has arrived.”

As Taemuk entered the barracks with Hoeun, a soldier standing guard at the front announced their arrival. Inside the hastily set-up tent below the encampment, the people Taemuk had rescued that day were gathered together in a tight cluster.

At the sight of him, those who had been sitting or lying down all stood up and showed their respect. They spoke words that couldn’t be understood, but judging by their smiles and the way they bowed their heads, it seemed to be expressions of gratitude.

“……”

Taemuk accepted their thanks with a blank expression.

But subtly, he shifted one foot slightly back.

He felt awkward under such direct gratitude. Even after saving so many people, he still wasn’t used to receiving thanks so openly. It was embarrassing—almost irritating.

Hoeun gently placed a hand on Taemuk’s back.

So that he wouldn’t avoid it.

Because he deserved their gratitude.

“……”

“……”

After that, silence followed.

An awkward silence.

Since they couldn’t understand each other’s language, both the refugees and the Jeokudae soldiers could only glance around, their eyes darting restlessly.

The one who finally broke the silence—

was Hoeun.

“Um… I brought some snacks…”

He opened the pouch he had brought with him.

Inside were chocolates, piled high, glinting like silver coins.

Hoeun began handing them out one by one, starting with the children. Worried that they might accidentally put the wrappers in their mouths, he carefully unwrapped each piece himself before giving it to them.

The children’s eyes sparkled as soon as they tasted the chocolate.

They laughed, waved their hands holding the sweets, and chattered excitedly. In no time, the once-quiet tent grew lively with noise.

Hoeun handed chocolates to the adults as well. The atmosphere softened almost instantly.

He smiled brightly, without restraint.

Since leaving home, he had realized something—

In this exhausting world where each day was a struggle, there was nothing better than chocolate for winning people’s hearts.

Its sweetness soothed weary bodies and minds, even if only for a moment.

Hoeun gave each child one more piece.

Sometimes, if chocolate smeared on their lips or cheeks, he wiped it away himself with a handkerchief.

Meanwhile, Taemuk stood with his arms crossed, watching Hoeun from behind.

A faint smile lingered at the corner of his lips.

No one noticed.

“Um… is there anyone here who can speak our language?”

After emptying the pouch completely, Hoeun asked the refugees.

But no answer came.

They murmured among themselves occasionally, but it seemed they were only trying to guess what he had asked.

“…It seems they don’t understand?”

Hoeun asked quietly into the air.

“It appears so.”

Byeonguk, standing beside him, nodded.

He had stayed close to Hoeun the entire time while he handed out the chocolates—just in case the refugees posed any danger. They didn’t seem malicious, but it was better to be cautious.

“Do you happen to know what language they’re speaking?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never learned foreign languages…”

Byeonguk shook his head, troubled.

Hoeun sighed softly.

“Even the elder was having difficulty communicating…”

Taemuk didn’t know, he didn’t know, Byeonguk didn’t know, the elder didn’t know.

What should they do?

This was a military camp of the Great Han Empire. They had duties—they couldn’t care for these people indefinitely. They needed to explain that they would escort them to a safe nearby town soon.

There was so much to say.

As Hoeun furrowed his brow in thought—

someone stepped forward from the clustered group.

It was a woman with long braided hair and cheeks reddened by the cold—the same woman who had been with a young daughter in the forest.

She limped slightly as she approached.

“Stop.”

Byeonguk quickly stepped in front of her.

The woman halted—whether she understood or simply sensed it.

Then she slowly extended her hand.

Hoeun observed her from behind Byeonguk’s arm.

She stared at him calmly, her hand still outstretched.

Her palm was open.

Empty.

No weapon. Nothing at all.

“Do you need something?”

Hoeun asked.

Of course, she couldn’t understand.

She simply kept her hand extended.

Hoeun looked at it for a moment—

then slowly extended his own hand as well.

The woman stepped closer.

Byeonguk frowned and moved to block her again—

“It’s alright.”

Hoeun stopped him.

Reluctantly, Byeonguk stepped back.

But only half a step—close enough to intervene instantly if needed.

“……”

The woman looked at Hoeun’s pale hand.

Then, with her index finger, she gently tapped his palm.

Hoeun flinched—but didn’t pull away.

She met his eyes briefly, then began to write something on his palm.

“……”

Hoeun stared intently.

Her finger moved for quite a while—complex, deliberate motions.

And when she finally stopped—

“What is this…?”

Byeonguk frowned, unable to understand.

Hoeun blinked rapidly, unable to grasp it at first either.

But as he replayed the motions in his mind again and again—

his eyes widened.

“Hangul… She just wrote in Hangul.”

[We are Mongolian people. Though our country has fallen, we could not abandon our homeland, so we continued living there.]

The woman now held a brush, carefully writing Hangul characters on paper.

Hoeun sat beside her, watching with a stunned expression.

He had seen foreigners speak Korean before—but never like this, so suddenly.

“Wow, she writes well.”

“She writes better than me.”

Gilsang and Dongja, who had gathered nearby, stared with their mouths open.

Meanwhile, Byeonguk read with a serious expression, then asked,

“Didn’t Mongolia fall?”

“Just because a country falls doesn’t mean its people disappear.”

“Pardon?”

“Dongja-nunim once said that.”

Hoeun smiled gently at Dongja.

Byeonguk looked at her like, You say things like that?

Dongja lifted her chin proudly.

Then Gilsang asked,

“But do they use Hangul in Mongolia?”

“No. They speak a different language.”

Hoeun shook his head, then picked up a brush.

With his other hand holding his sleeve neatly, he began to write.

His posture was flawless.

His brush moved quickly—yet with elegance and precision.

[Where did you learn Hangul?]

The ink spread smoothly across the paper, then dried.

Gilsang and Dongja immediately exclaimed,

“Young master, your handwriting is amazing!”

“As expected of you—so elegant!”

“……”

From a few steps behind, Taemuk also watched Hoeun’s writing with quiet satisfaction.

He had seen it many times before—

but hearing others praise it made him feel strangely pleased.

Yeah… a noble really is a noble.

Normally, he would’ve wanted to kill nobles the moment they acted like nobles—

But Hoeun was different.

Not even a little hateful.

His kindness in giving out chocolate, his gentle speech, his refined demeanor—

Even his beautiful handwriting.

If anything, it made Taemuk feel proud.

How did someone like him end up as my guide?

Taemuk rubbed his cheek lightly, trying to hide the smile creeping up his lips.

Meanwhile, the woman slowly wrote her reply.

Her handwriting was a bit clumsy, but still readable.

[I like novels from the Great Han Empire. Especially “Chunhyangjeon” and “Okru Mong.” I studied a lot. I can write, but speaking is still difficult.]

“Okru Mong…”

Hoeun murmured in fascination, lips forming a small “o.”

The woman continued writing.

[Thank you for saving us. We owe you a great debt.]

Hoeun wrote back:

[Saving others is something people ought to do. But how did you end up there?]

[Because of monsters. They came to our village. So we had to flee.]

“Monsters…”

It seemed that in Mongolia, Shikgoe were called monsters.

Seeing that word, Hoeun suddenly realized something.

These were people from another land.

They might know things about Shikgoe that Jeokudae did not.

He quickly pulled out his notebook and flipped to pages with drawings—

illustrations of Shikgoe antenna types.

[Which of these monsters came?]

The woman looked at the drawings, then spoke to the others.

They all gathered around, chattering loudly, each pointing at different drawings.

Hoeun frowned slightly.

Then the woman wrote again:

[All of them were there.]

“…What?”

Hoeun was so shocked he spoke aloud.

That answer was completely unexpected.

He quickly wrote again:

[Do you mean all the monsters in these drawings were there?]

[Yes. All of them.]