BW C41

Chapter 41

“I’m that person’s guide. I can help a little. I—I brought a pistol, too.”

Hoeun showed the pistol strapped at his side.

“…”

Gilsang looked up at Hoeun with eyes that said it would still be better not to go, but Dongja gave a short shake of her head.

“Let him. The young lord is the Captain’s guide, isn’t he. If he’s worried, he should go. Hey, Mansu—if I went alone, would you follow me like the young lord’s doing?”

“’Course. We’re one body, aren’t we?”

Mansu nudged Dongja’s forearm with his elbow and grinned foolishly. Dongja, too, smiled, a bit crookedly.

“…”

Gilsang sighed, then no longer tried to stop Hoeun. He went back to his spooning.

With that tacit permission, Hoeun ran toward Taemuk. His ankle, hurt in the fall from the horse, throbbed, but he ran hard even with a limp. His ribboned hair fluttered and flapped.

Fortunately, Taemuk’s back was visible not far away.

“General!”

Taemuk did not look back.

“I’ll go with you, General!”

Thinking perhaps he hadn’t heard, Hoeun called out again. But still, Taemuk gave no answer.

“I—it’s Hoeun!”

He even gave his name, wondering if Taemuk might not know it was him who followed.

“It’s Hoe—”

Stopping and starting again, Hoeun coughed, dull and rough. Just a few shouts had left his throat scratchy. No wonder—raising his voice so loud was rare in his quiet life.

“…”

He swallowed and looked at Taemuk. The man never turned.

Pressing his lips tight, Hoeun stubbornly pursued. But with his sluggish body, his twisted ankle, and Taemuk’s long legs and strides, catching up was impossible.

As time passed, Taemuk’s whole figure, formerly clear, began to flash in and out behind the grasses, and eventually disappeared altogether. Even so, Hoeun did not give up and kept running.

Why, he didn’t know. He just moved his legs as if under a spell. He didn’t want to leave him alone. It might also have been because the man whose head had been torn off and the reeking corpses still flickered before his eyes.

Or maybe he feared that if something happened to the one person who gave him purpose, he would have to go home.

Or maybe… it was simply worry.

But in the end, Hoeun lost Taemuk. In the dense grasses on all sides, he could not tell which way Taemuk had gone. Even the faint cigarette smoke that had brushed his nose was swept away by the wind.

“Hah, hah…”

At last, Hoeun’s legs halted. His face, breathing fast and ragged, was quite flushed—not from exertion, but from anger.

Why won’t he look back?

Why ignore me?

Haven’t we grown even a little, a little closer?

We rode together, slept together, even held hands. However useless he might be, he thought, as a guide, he’d helped him a little—just a little. Was it a delusion? Did Taemuk still hate him?

“…”

Hoeun’s lips puckered. His eye corners reddened, and his nose prickled.

Never in his life had anyone disliked him like this. Everyone liked him—Mother, Father, his brothers, Deokwoo, and the household servants. Even here, Gilsang, Dongja and Mansu, and Chilbok seemed to like him—but Taemuk did not.

Only! Taemuk alone!

“Do as you please, then!”

Hoeun shouted words he could never have said before Taemuk. Then he turned to head back to the unit.

“Uh…”

The dense grasses had closed in up to the tip of his nose. To the left, to the right, behind—everywhere was grass. The stubborn stalks had swallowed the traces left by his flailing arms as he pushed through. Thus Hoeun had completely lost his bearings.

Had there been even a tree, he might have recalled its shape as he passed—but it was a continuous stretch of featureless green, and there was no distinguishing mark. There was no light. Only darkness.

Was it this way?

Or that way?

He set his left foot—and then his right. But he could not find a direction.

Ah… he was lost.

At the realization, a chill swept over him. Just then, wind blew. The grasses swayed slowly with a sssaaa, sssaaa. It was a bleak sound.

“…”

The black mass of grass breathed a chill as if something could leap out at any moment. Hoeun drew his pistol from his side. Then he sat still, unmoving.

He had no idea what to do. There was nothing he could do. If he shouted for help, monsters might come. If he tried to walk for now, he might stray farther from the unit.

“What should I do…”

Unable to do this or that, Hoeun stood there for a long time. His fingers gripping the pistol began to throb. His twisted ankle hurt. His forearms shivered as his body heat fell. The fear grew and grew in size.

Unwittingly, Hoeun shuffled backward. “Back” didn’t even have meaning—he didn’t know which way it was. Then he stepped wrong on a grass root and plopped down on his backside.

“…”

Startled at his own fall, he swung the pistol left, then right. But the only movement was the grasses wavering in the wind. He moved to get up at once. But—

“Ah…”

His ankle throbbed and pounded. Ever since he’d twisted it, he’d paid it no mind; then he’d run to catch up to Taemuk—no wonder the pain was severe.

Hoeun decided to just sit. Standing, sitting, even lying down—it wouldn’t change anything.

“Hah…”

The grass floor, which seemed untouched by human hand, was cold and damp. He felt about the ground for no reason—afraid that there might be a piece of the corpse the soldiers had moved earlier. He couldn’t let his precious body press on someone’s remains.

Fortunately, his hand found only small stones. He picked one out and let out a deep sigh. The way ahead felt hopeless. He should have listened when Gilsang told him not to go. What was he thinking—knowing nothing and now even losing his way… There was no burden like this burden.

Hoeun regretted his choice a moment before, and regretted it again. Why had he followed like a fool? Was he giddy with the illusion that he had become closer to Taemuk? The man hadn’t even looked back once.

“Still…”

Surely he wouldn’t abandon him. If not Taemuk, wouldn’t Gilsang come to find him? Perhaps Dongja or Mansu would, too.

No—but what if they thought he was with Taemuk? Taemuk wouldn’t return to the tent until late at night or dawn. If no one noticed he was missing until then?

He thought perhaps he might have to spend the night here. At that very thought, a sharp, honed wind blew whiiing through the grasses.

“…Cold.”

Hoeun drew up his knees, hunched, and held his breath. He idly weighed whether morning would come first—or the monsters. In this situation, there was nothing else he could do.

As time passed, the tip of his nose stung with cold. His hands went icy; his lips dried. And he grew strangely drowsy. It wasn’t the same as tiredness at night—much heavier, more suffocating.

Blinking slowly, Hoeun buried his face between his knees. And then—

Charr, sarr—between the trembling grasses came an unfamiliar presence. It was unmistakably movement—pushing through grass, trampling it. Whether it was a person, a monster, or an animal, he could not tell.

“…”

He swallowed and aimed the gun toward the sound. He imagined the monster that would soon appear—or beasts like predators.

The presence drew closer step by step.

Step, step—shhrrrk… Step, step—shhrrrk…

At that sound, Hoeun’s brows lifted slightly. He knew those footsteps. He slowly lowered the muzzle. At the same moment, the grasses swept aside—

“…”

Taemuk appeared.

“…You’re back.”

With a curious look, Hoeun gazed up at him. Taemuk looked down at him without a word. With his fringe falling to his eyes, it was impossible to tell what expression he wore. No matter—doubtless blank. Or else tinged with irritation.

Hoeun looked at him quietly. His cheeks and jaw were splashed with blood. His hair shone sleek, as if wet with blood. And in one hand, he held the corpse of a headless monster. The drag-scrape he’d heard must have been him hauling that hunk of flesh.

In that moment, Taemuk looked strange and frightening, like a reaper—but Hoeun was not afraid. He only puckered his lips in a sulking-child’s face.

He did not think Taemuk had come because he knew Hoeun was lost. He didn’t think it was a chance finding, either. In a grassland this wide and dark, what were the chances they’d meet by accident?

There was only one conclusion. Taemuk must have known from the start how far he had followed, and where he had stopped. Then, when he judged the time was right, he had come.

How that was possible, he did not know. But it was not impossible.

Because Taemuk was—Taemuk. The greatest Military God in the Empire of Korea.