BW C49

Chapter 49

Hoeun stood vacantly inside the dim command tent. It was Taemuk’s tent within the garrison, but though he stood there, he could not remember where this was, nor how he had come here.

“Save… me…”

“Save me, please… please save me…”

“Save me… save—save me…”

The man’s voice filled his ears to the brim. The image of Taemuk loosing the arrow, and then, of Taemuk casually kicking the corpse that had become a rag heap, flickered before his eyes again and again.

Abruptly, Hoeun rubbed at the space between his brows. It felt as if Taemuk’s arrow had pierced not only the man’s brow, but his own. Then he lowered his hand and looked at his palm.

“…”

His hand, scored with red welts from the reins, was trembling. Not only his hand—his whole body shook. Something kept making him afraid, making him fearful, making him tense.

“Haa…”

Eyes screwed shut, Hoeun let out a sigh.

Why had Taemuk done it.

Why had a hero of the nation—a hero who killed monsters and saved the people—killed a person.

Come to think of it, aside from soldiers or Hoeun himself, he had never seen Taemuk save anyone. Well, they had never met anyone—that far his thought went, then Hoeun went rigid.

“…”

They had met a living man in the bamboo forest. His leg had been bitten, but he had been alive. Looking back now, only Hoeun had tried to save him. At the time, he had thought everyone was too busy fighting monsters. Was it not that?

Then, to Taemuk, was killing monsters more important than saving people?

Well—grant that, a hundred concessions. Jeokudae’s mission was suppression, not guardianship. Taemuk had a duty to kill monsters.

But… he had killed a man, not a monster. A man who could have been saved. A man who had been alive.

“Haa…”

Hoeun sighed again. He tried, somehow, to understand Taemuk—but with his straight and upright mind, he could not.

He scrubbed his face dry with his hands so hard the tip of his nose reddened.

Flap.

Without warning, the tent flap was swept up. And—

“…General.”

Taemuk entered, a cigarette between his lips. His face was set in a grimace, and he wore only trousers without even a robe. Instead, he was bandaged all over. The bandages were heavy with blood; some had soaked through and blood ran down his skin. Where the flesh had been bitten out, the bandages were lumpy.

Also, whether drenched in water or not, his hair was soaked. If the droplets at the tips hadn’t been clear, one could have mistaken it for being drenched in blood.

“You…”

Seeing Hoeun, Taemuk, for a moment, widened his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted a little. It was—how to put it—like the look of someone who has found something forgotten. Or the look of someone who has found treasure in a wasteland.

His eyes flashed with a strange light—not a human light. It was the light of a beast, or a yaksha. A force poured off him as if he might, this very instant, gape his mouth and bite Hoeun’s head off whole.

Hoeun, without meaning to, shuffled back a step. In the blink of an eye, Taemuk closed the distance. He flicked the cigarette away without remorse and crushed it underfoot. Then—

“Take it off.”

He gave a disconcerting order.

“…Sir?”

Hoeun echoed, as if he’d misheard. Taemuk stepped a half-step closer and said,

“Take it off. Now.”

His voice as he spoke trembled in fine spasms. It was low—certainly his voice—but somehow it did not feel like his speaking. As if something other than him had settled into his body.

Frightened, Hoeun took another step back. Taemuk grabbed his forearm.

“Where are you going.”

“Ah…”

Hoeun let out a thin groan. The arm caught in Taemuk’s grip hurt as if it would be crushed. Taemuk had seized him more than once—but it had never hurt like this. So—every time he had touched him till now, Taemuk had been holding back.

“L-let go.”

“No.”

A strange answer. Not dislike, not refusal—just no. As Hoeun struggled to pull free, Taemuk’s other hand reached for his robe tie. Startled, Hoeun left his trapped arm and pulled his body back.

“Don’t.”

“Why. I promised only up to the garrison.”

At the incomprehensible words, Hoeun scowled faintly. What promise—what was he talking abou— Then he recalled something Taemuk had once said.

“If you don’t want to bare your ass here, better to just suck.”

“I’m letting you off because you’re a noble. Be grateful.”

Yes—they had had such an exchange. Frightened, Hoeun had begged to be spared until the garrison, and though Taemuk had not said he would, in truth, on the way here he had not stripped Hoeun’s clothes.

And this was the garrison. Now, as Taemuk had said, it was time to “bare his ass.”

At the thought, the corners of Hoeun’s eyes tinged blue. He opened his mouth to speak—but Taemuk’s eyes flashed a warning.

“If you say ‘no’ again, I’ll rip your tongue out.”

At the growl, Hoeun went stiff. In that moment, Taemuk yanked at the tie of Hoeun’s cheollik as if to tear it off. With a rip, it half-tore and the garment opened. It was only an outer robe—but his body went cold.

“…”

Looking at the dangling tie, Hoeun thought:

Perhaps Taemuk had always been this kind of person.

Perhaps Hoeun had only ever clung, stubbornly, to his good points.

His Military God must be a good person—because only then would there be a justification for his leaving home. Because only then could he continue to stay here. Because a person who can do nothing could deceive himself into thinking he was saving the country. Perhaps that was why.

No. No.

His judgment could not be wrong.

Taemuk, too, must have had a reason. A reason he had to kill the man. A reason so compelling that a fool like him did not know. A reason so proper and reasonable that he would have no choice but to accept it.

At that, Hoeun seized Taemuk’s wrist. But Taemuk was hot. He had always been hot, but now more than ever. It felt like gripping a lump of fire; he almost dropped it.

But Hoeun held on. He opened his eyes wide, fixed them on Taemuk, and spoke, each word crisp:

“There is something to ask.”

“Later.”

Taemuk answered without even looking at him. Then he moved to strip off the cheollik. Hoeun blocked his hand and shook his head.

“No. It must be now.”

“…”

This time, Taemuk didn’t even answer. Hoeun’s roomy cheollik slid back off his shoulders. But because the sleeves were tied, it wouldn’t come off completely. A vein bulged at Taemuk’s temple. Jaw clenched, he simply ripped through the sleeve ties—snap, snap. Irritation thickened his touch.

“Why did you kill that man.”

Ignoring that touch as best he could, Hoeun asked in a firm voice, polite and precise.

“Who.”

Taemuk shot back, annoyed. Hoeun swallowed a dry breath. He had killed only one person today—why ask who. Had this happened before—had he killed more than one?

At the thought, his head cooled to ice. The man before him looked not like Taemuk, but like a demon.

“The nobleman who was lying in the village.”

At that, Taemuk’s breath halted. At last he seemed to recall whom he had killed. Hoeun held his breath along with him, focusing on Taemuk—so he could listen with full sincerity to what he would say. He wanted to listen—and to understand.

But Taemuk’s lip curved in a slow, snakelike smile. At that languid sneer, gooseflesh rose on Hoeun’s nape.

Hunching his back, Taemuk met Hoeun’s eyes. Without blinking, in a tone that was somehow languid, he asked,

“Why. Angry because he was a yangban like you?”

“That is not what matters.”

“That’s the most important thing.”

It was a sentence at odds with the point. Whether the man was a noble, commoner, or baseborn—none of that mattered. At least to Hoeun. He shook his head, firm.

“No. Before he was a noble, he was a person.”

“They’re nobles before they’re people.”

“For heaven’s sake…”

What was he— Hoeun scowled as hard as he could. Taemuk, for some reason, chuckled.

At that, anger rose in Hoeun. Without fear, he stepped toward Taemuk. Whatever followed from here, this was something that needed to be confronted. Only then could he deal with Taemuk, in some way or other.

“I know it was a difficult situation. Monsters were lying in ambush, and you meant to use that man as bait.”

On the way to the garrison, Hoeun had gone over what had happened in the village. Why had Taemuk not saved the man.

The conclusion he reached was that the man was bait for the monsters. He had been left with his ankles cut off in a cluster of houses, and the monsters had lain in wait nearby. If someone tried to save him, they would swarm all at once and devour—surely that had been the plan. So he could not be saved right away. Jeokudae’s soldiers might be hurt.

Yes—he understood that much.