BW C58

Chapter 58

At those words, Taemuk spoke in irritation.

“Why do you heal so slowly?”

“…”

In a life spent being ill, it was the first time Hoeun had heard such a thing. Not “why are you sick,” but “why do you heal slowly.” He had no idea what, or how, was slow. If Taemuk wanted him to heal quickly like himself, that was impossible. Hoeun was no Military God.

Under Taemuk’s hands that kept worrying the wound, Hoeun gave up resisting and buried his face in the blanket. Each time the sharp pain jabbed at him he flinched, but he did not let a groan slip out.

How long had it been. At last, Taemuk’s hand lifted. He carefully set down Hoeun’s ankle, as thin as chopsticks. Then he pressed the lid of the ointment firm shut.

“…”

Hoeun stared at him blankly. Perhaps feeling that gaze, Taemuk looked at Hoeun too. Yet the moment their eyes met in the air, Taemuk’s lashes stiffened and he quietly averted his gaze. It did not match the man who was always so confident and imposing.

Hoeun frowned faintly in puzzlement. Taemuk, doing something that might have been covering Hoeun with the turned-down blanket, or merely tossing it over him, asked,

“Going to sleep more?”

“Pardon? Ah…”

Hoeun blinked slowly. He wasn’t sleepy, but if told to sleep more, he could manage. But was it day now, or night? His last memory was soaking in the bath; he had no idea when or how he had come out. He only vaguely felt that quite some time had passed.

“How long was I ill?”

“Five days. And half a day.”

Setting the ointment on the table, Taemuk replied. Hoeun’s eyes went round.

“F-five days?”

He’d lain that long? He hurried to examine his limbs. Indeed, the mottling that had covered his skin had faded. His voice, too, though still husky, was not cracked. He did not hurt haphazardly all over. If he had to name one place, it was the rear Taemuk had handled a moment ago.

“You can sleep more. But eat first.”

“Eat…”

“Yes, eat.”

At that, Hoeun felt his insides hollow. Understandable, since he’d done nothing but lie sick for five days.

Rubbing his belly, he glanced at Taemuk. It puzzled him that the man was seeing to his meal. Hadn’t he been angry at him? Very much so. Yet for some reason, the man of the coupling and the man now were markedly different. His air, his expression, his actions—even his voice were different.

What to call it—he hadn’t become kind, nor had he softened, but if forced to describe it… ah. Tame. Like a sated beast. Or a domesticated one.

But Hoeun still felt uneasy with Taemuk. He would, for a while. Perhaps forever.

“Then I’ll… go eat.”

Hoeun pushed himself up unsteadily. He didn’t know where meals were taken, but he could ask outside. Chilbok or Gilsang would help.

He flipped the blanket back and lowered his feet from the cot. Only then did he realize he had no trousers on. He’d need to dress to go out—and tie up his hair, which hung loose and trailing.

He sighed at the thought of when he’d get dressed and even braid his hair, but there was no way he could go out like this.

He looked around for his clothes. He saw nothing. Of course—their kit hadn’t been unpacked on arriving at the garrison. Where would they be? How to find them? As he fretted, Taemuk, circling near the cot, said in passing,

“Just stay here. I’ll have a tray brought.”

“No. I’ll go eat.”

Perching on the cot, Hoeun set his feet gingerly on the floor. First he’d try to find Taemuk’s command tent. Then someone’s foot entered his view—Taemuk’s, many times the size of Hoeun’s.

“Stay.”

“…”

At the tone, which somehow felt coercive, Hoeun’s eyes hardened. A bad feeling pricked him. Indeed, in eyes that had been docile only moments ago, a cold gleam lodged. Hoeun chose to give ground for now. He had learned bitterly that he could not win a fight with Taemuk.

Lowering his gaze, he yielded obediently to the command.

“Yes. Understood. I’ll eat here.”

At that, the heavy air lightened. Taemuk’s stare, which had pinned him like a set of bars, dropped away. Then Hoeun added, in his characteristic, neat tone,

“But I must put on clothes. I can’t eat like this. Do you know where my things are?”

“No.”

Taemuk replied at once. An answer not thought over or considered—one that seemed prepared. Still, Hoeun kept his politeness.

“Could you look for them, please?”

“We’ll see.”

“To eat, I—”

“Just eat naked.”

“…”

Hoeun’s lashes trembled. The heavy foreboding became reality. Swallowing, he slowly shook his head.

“I can’t do that. Give me my clothes.”

“…”

“General.”

“No.”

Taemuk turned his head as if to speak no more. But the body that stood as if to bar Hoeun’s way—or to guard him—did not move.

The corners of Hoeun’s eyes creased. He wasn’t asking anything large; he only wanted to put on trousers, and yet—no. He couldn’t tell what Taemuk was thinking. After a moment’s thought, rubbing his thin knees, he said,

“The air is cool. If I don’t dress properly, I might catch a chill.”

At that, Taemuk’s fingertips twitched. He looked down at Hoeun’s very white legs. They were indeed so thin and fleshless they looked cold. Pulling at one side of his lip and releasing it, he offered a solution that was hardly efficient.

“…Cover with the blanket.”

“General.”

“I can light the brazier.”

At that, Hoeun’s delicate eyes lifted sharply, far from delicate.

“Why are you doing this!”

“…”

Taemuk did not answer.

“If you won’t give them, I’ll find and put them on myself.”

Jaw clenched, Hoeun sprang up. But before he could fully stand, he pitched forward. His long hair flew up all at once.

“Ah…”

He let out a thin breath of surprise. There was no strength at all in his legs. It was as if his lower body didn’t exist. After five days abed, it was only natural. All the more since he’d hardly eaten—if strength had come into them, that would have been stranger.

Expecting to hit the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut—

Thunk.

Taemuk’s thick arm caught him at the belly. Hoeun all but hung from it. Taemuk lifted him and set him carefully back on the cot. Then, with a voice cold in stark contrast to his careful touch, he drawled,

“Were you going out like that? Bare legs all on display?”

“…”

“Is that all right? You’re a noble. You mustn’t show yourself like that to the men outside. What was it—ah. Dignity. Don’t you keep it?”

“…”

Taemuk reached out and smoothed back Hoeun’s disordered hair. The strands beneath his fingers were so very soft. How even a single hair on Hoeun could be so “precious” was strange to him. A faint sneer touched his lips as he handled it at will.

“I do like what’s vulgar—but I don’t like a street whore.”

At that, Hoeun ground his teeth. He slapped Taemuk’s hand away with a smack and shouted,

“Then give me clothes! What on earth is the reason for this! Why—why won’t you let me dress!”

Hoeun could not understand him. Was it to resume coupling after the meal? Even if so, that was no reason. Even if he wore not clothes but armor, taking them off would be no particular difficulty for Taemuk.

Then was it crude teasing? Tormenting him like when he made him eat fist-rice till he vomited? Why now—of all times? To a guide just risen from five days of illness? And what did Taemuk gain?

The corners of Hoeun’s eyes crumpled further. Then, in an instant,

“…”

His brow smoothed.

Out of nowhere, he thought of the tale “The Fairy and the Woodcutter.” He didn’t know why it came to him at this moment, but it did. Because now Taemuk seemed like the woodcutter who hid the winged robe and would not return it, lest the fairy leave.

Surely… did he not want Hoeun to go outside? Why? Was he afraid Hoeun might run?

Without letting Taemuk see, Hoeun clenched his fists tight, then released them. He swallowed. Then, meeting Taemuk’s eyes, he spoke calmly, in a low voice,

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“…”

“I will remain here, with Jeokudae, by the General’s side.”

Even as he said it, Hoeun doubted himself. Was that so? Did he truly want to be here? Could he? Beside a Taemuk this terrifying? But it was too late to take back what he had said.

“…”

“…”

Silence fell. Taemuk, lips pressed tight, held Hoeun’s large eyes in his gaze. Hoeun lowered his eyes. It seemed his guess had been wrong. Then why—he thought, to that point—

“You said you want to go home.”

Taemuk spoke.