BW C22

Chapter 22

“…”

Hoeun’s voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t so soft he couldn’t be heard—yet Taemuk still gave no reply.

Hoeun cast him a sidelong, cool glance. He never answered when asked anything. Why did he ignore him to this extent? If Deokwoo were here, he would have snapped, “Who are you to slurp down our young master’s words like soup with rice?”

Just then, as if it didn’t matter what flustered Hoeun, Taemuk began taking off his uniform. His bare chest was revealed in an instant.

“Eek…”

With a faint sound, Hoeun quickly turned his back. He had seen Taemuk naked the previous night, but it was still just as flustering. Suddenly his throat burned; the memory of that part of Taemuk slipping in and out rose up.

No matter how at a loss Hoeun was, Taemuk calmly washed.

At the splashing sound, Hoeun fidgeted with the edge of his jacket and realized he himself was dressed little differently from being naked. The soaked under-jacket clung tight to his body, and his skin showed through for good measure.

Pressing his lips together, Hoeun hurried up onto the bank. He slipped behind a tree, wrung his hair, and wiped his body with the cloth he had brought. Doing that, the chill crept up on him. His lips turned blue as he shivered and put on a fresh over-robe. Then he gathered his flashlight and things to head back, but turned again toward the river—toward Taemuk.

“Um… General.”

“…”

As expected, Taemuk did not answer. He only wiped blood from his shoulder with his large hand. Hoeun almost called him again but stopped. Calling several more times would clearly get no response. So he simply said what he had to say.

Folding his hands neatly, he bowed from the waist.

“Thank you for saving me today.”

The image of Taemuk beating down monsters was still vivid in his mind. Everyone else fought with swords or spears, and he alone fought barehanded; it seemed like a crude, brute approach and yet, at the same time, it was a little… admirable. He was that strong—so strong he could face those fearsome monsters with his bare hands.

Such a man was Hoeun’s Military God.

A man who saves the nation.

A man who keeps the people alive.

After bowing for a long moment, Hoeun slowly raised his head. Then he stammered, syllable by precise syllable. Saying he stammered precisely may sound odd, but that was truly how it came out.

“I—I will train hard so I can do a man’s share of work.”

It was a kind of resolve. What Hoeun had felt, hiding in the crack between rocks today, was not relief at being spared the bloodshed but shame and humiliation at being able to do nothing. He did not want to feel that again.

He knew Taemuk would ignore him, but he wanted to say it anyway. That way he could strive harder toward that goal. A man of letters should not have to retract a word once spoken.

Unexpectedly, Taemuk did not ignore him. With his back turned, he cut slowly through the current and came toward Hoeun. Water displaced by those thick thighs surged in a triangle.

Reaching Hoeun at last, he spoke in that characteristic low voice.

“Your job isn’t to kill monsters.”

“…Sir?”

“Forget that training. Train your mouth on cocks instead.”

Then he snorted a laugh.

“…”

Hoeun did not understand at once. He blinked without meaning, then let his flashlight slip. It dropped and rolled, and the beam sliced wildly through the forest.

“Ugh…”

He clamped his hands over his ears. “Cock,” he’d said. It was an obscenity so vile it made his skin crawl. Even if he had said “member,” his face would have burned, but “cock”? To spit out such a crude word.

Hoeun rubbed his ears furiously, as if to scrape the words out of the ear holes. Taemuk watched him, looking dumbfounded, then clicked his tongue and waded back into the water.

“If you’re done washing, wait in my tent.”

At that, Hoeun froze in the posture of rubbing his ears. Taemuk didn’t wait for his answer; as if refusal were never an option to begin with, he dove under the water.

“…”

Arms dropping limp, Hoeun stared blankly at the rings of water spreading out in circles from where Taemuk had vanished.

Sniffling, Hoeun entered Taemuk’s tent. After washing in cold water and meeting the cold wind, his nose was running.

The tent was no different from the day before: mats, bedding, a small table, candles. So much the same it gave the illusion that last night was still continuing.

There was exactly one difference: a brazier. The fire burned bright red; it looked warm at a glance.

Hoeun’s sulky face brightened a shade. The walk here on the order to go wait had felt as heavy as if iron were tied to his steps; but, as fickle as it was, the stove was a welcome sight.

He quickly knelt before it. He thawed his hands until they tingled, then dried his wet hair. He murmured to himself,

“When will he come…”

If possible, he hoped he would come very, very late. He shook his head at the thought. What a wicked thought—for his own guide to think it—but the heaviness in his heart couldn’t be helped. Hoeun combed his hair with his fingers, sighing again and again.

When the lustrous hair was half dry, his eyes grew drowsy. Having washed in cold water and sat before a warm brazier, he felt so languid he could hardly stand it. Even when he forced his eyes open, they soon fell shut again.

He mustn’t sleep.

He had to greet the General when he came.

Before that, he had to tie his hair and dress neatly.

But sleep tugged him sideways.

Drifting in a light sleep, Hoeun slid open his eyes. He didn’t know why. Perhaps he sensed something in his sleep—some threat, some danger.

And indeed, there was someone right before his eyes. A handsome face, deep-set eyes, bangs falling long in front, jet-black pupils.

Taemuk.

“…General?”

He rubbed his lids, recognizing him but unable to believe it—was it a dream? But the real Taemuk was straddling him. Not sitting on his waist as if riding a horse, but kneeling with a knee on either side of his hips. The over-robe he had thrown on lay spread over Hoeun like a blanket.

“Why…”

Even half-asleep and dazed, Hoeun thought this posture was not right. He squirmed to slip out from under Taemuk, but Taemuk grabbed his clothes and dragged him back beneath himself. The loosely tied under-jacket knot came undone at once. Only then did Hoeun realize he wore nothing but a single over-robe thrown over his under-jacket.

To be seen like this before a superior!

“I—I’m sorry…”

As Hoeun hurried to pull his under-jacket closed, Taemuk instead flipped one side wide open. The roomy garment gaped, revealing Hoeun’s snow-white chest.

“General!”

He quickly closed it again. But Taemuk didn’t stop; this time his hand slipped under the under-jacket. A hot, rough palm ran heedlessly over tender, private skin.

Startled witless, Hoeun could not even scream. The hand kneading his body felt unspeakably foreign. His skin had known only soft, smooth silk his whole life—so it was worse.

Hoeun seized Taemuk’s wrist as it swept down his chest.

“Don’t—please don’t.”

As he shook his head hard, Taemuk’s face wrinkled into a fierce frown.

“Why.”

“Sir?”

“Why shouldn’t I.”

“Because…”

“I’m going to.”

“No—you can’t. Please don’t.”

At Hoeun’s refusals, one after another, Taemuk stared off into the distance and exhaled through his nose. Then, grinding his teeth, he caught Hoeun by the collar with that massive hand. At the brute force, Hoeun’s upper body was hauled up entire. The taut under-jacket collar drove into his neck like the edge of a blade.

Hoeun winced at the sharp pain; Taemuk growled,

“When I say we’re doing this, you do it.”

“But…”

He did not want to. The pain from last night still lay raw in his mouth and throat. Instinct told Hoeun that what came next would hurt more, not less.

“You must be tired today—why don’t you sleep…”

Desperate, he babbled anything, gathering his gaping clothes together in his hands. He clutched so hard blue veins showed on the back of his white hands.

Taemuk sneered at the pathetic sight. He hauled Hoeun closer still, until their noses might have brushed.

“Why do you think I saved you?”

“Because—”

As Hoeun began to answer, Taemuk spoke over him.

“Why would I bother with the nuisance, the hassle?”

“…”

At that, the expression drained clean from Hoeun’s face.