BW C70

Chapter 70

“Yes.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“…”

Hoeun too stepped a half stride closer to the table. Between the shoulders of those assembled, he caught glimpses of Taemuk’s hand moving across the map.

“I will enter from the west and secure the shelter first. Dongja, you go in from the east—clear the monsters and head straight on to the school. Once the western shelter is secured, help relocate the people there.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Oh Gilsang, go straight to the hospital and bolster its defense.”

“Yes, understood.”

And then further orders followed—spoken firmly, without hesitation.

“Upon passing the gates, kill all nearby monsters. Half will hold the walls—make sure no more creatures get inside. If there’s time, repair those broken breaches or seal them off. The other half will push into the town’s center. Rescuing those at the hospital and the school and bringing them safely to the shelters is the highest priority. Only after that will we finish clearing the monsters.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, everyone filed out of the command tent. In moments, only Taemuk and Hoeun remained. Without so much as a backward glance, Taemuk strode into his private quarters tent, where his personal belongings were. Left standing blankly a beat, Hoeun hurried after.

Parting the curtain, he caught sight of Taemuk removing his clothes—preparing to don his uniform. Hoeun let out a small “ah,” quickly turning his back on the General’s bare form and fixing his eyes on the fabric of the tent. Biting his lips lightly, he forced himself to speak.

“Um…”

“You stay here.”

Before Hoeun could utter anything further, Taemuk’s voice struck him down.

“Eh? But…”

Half-clothed, with nothing on his torso yet, Taemuk thrust his arms into the white under-robe, not sparing Hoeun a look.

“The ones that besiege a town are smarter and stronger than those we’ve faced. Don’t risk yourself tagging along only to be injured. Stay here.”

“Still… I want to go. To be with you.”

Hoeun took a step forward as he declared it. Even if injured, even if it meant pain, he wanted foremost to be by Taemuk’s side.

“Don’t make trouble. Do as I say.”

“But…”

Taemuk’s brows furrowed sharply as he spun a glance back at him.

“You’re the only one here who dares to argue with me.”

“…”

“It isn’t because the others have no tongues, is it?”

His tone left no space for further defiance. Then he turned back and continued dressing.

“…”

Hoeun bit down firmly on his lower lip. It was true—throughout Taemuk’s issuing of orders, not a single soldier had spoken a question, let alone a challenge. But they had been chosen. Chosen to enter the battlefield.

Hoeun moved another step closer.

“Then what of Mansu, Dongja-noona’s guide? Does he not go?”

“He will.”

“And Sergeant Oh’s guide?”

“…”

Taemuk, tying the sash of his robe, glanced back once more, gaze questioning his intent. Hoeun answered evenly,

“Dongja-noona goes. Sergeant Oh goes. All alongside their guides. Why then must I not go with you?”

A neat, bold retort. Taemuk let out a scoff, then muttered low as he shrugged into his uniform coat.

“Because I cannot die.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Others, when bitten by monsters, die if their guide is absent.”

“…”

“But me? I don’t die.”

“…”

“I don’t need you.”

“…”

At those words, Hoeun’s fists clenched tight, hidden beneath his sleeves. Only days ago, Taemuk had told him his worth lay in being by his side. And now—now he said he was not needed. But Hoeun would not yield to that contradiction. He had seen with his own eyes what he could give him.

He stepped forward, both feet firm, and raised his clear eyes straight into Taemuk’s.

“Yes, you cannot die, General. You are undying.”

“Exactly. So—”

“So I will go with you.”

“Haa…”

Taemuk sighed deep, eyes rolling briefly to the ceiling, features marked with exasperation. But in that instant, Hoeun stepped closer and, standing at his chest, began buttoning his uniform with his own hands.

“‘Cannot die’ means you suffer wounds that could kill—but still cannot die. Yes?”

Not that you live spared from pain, but that you cannot even end by death. Saying that aloud, it sounded strange. Yet for Taemuk, it was truth. Seen from afar—a blessing. Up close—a curse.

“Then it means you must endure pain great enough to kill—with your eyes open, mind clear. Why suffer it so?”

“What?”

“You have me. If I stand at your side, then your pain lessens. You can suffer just a little less.”

“…”

Taemuk gave no reply. Meanwhile Hoeun’s fingers tied the last button beneath his throat, then smoothed open the folds of his collar. Lowering his hand—he took Taemuk’s own hand in his grasp.

“…”

Instantly, a flicker passed in Taemuk’s brow.

Hoeun rubbed gently across the back of his hand. It was massive, hard, weighty. Soon enough, this hand would be drenched in blood. Blood of monsters, and his own as well.

Hoeun gripped tighter, lifted his face, gazed without wavering. His clear eyes held Taemuk whole upon their surface. Dry swallowing unexpectedly, Taemuk listened—

“I won’t go charging danger. I won’t leap at monsters like a fool. I’ll hide quietly away. And if you’re hurt—I’ll come running. I’ll take your hand like this.”

“…”

“Nothing more, nothing less. Just that.”

“…”

“So please. Take me with you.”

Finishing, Hoeun lowered his gaze, only awaiting judgment.

“…”

Long moments held. In the close air, he heard each breath the man took. Each one dried his tongue more. If turned away even here—it would wound. He knew he’d be useless in battle, knew it made sense to stay behind like a watch-stone and wait. Still. Still, he could not bear to leave him alone.

Every other guide stood with their Military God. And yet the one who slew the most monsters, shed the most blood—he alone was burdened to stand unaccompanied. It ached him.

So he prayed. Please. Take me. His hand clenched the General’s tighter.

“Then come.”

Taemuk’s words. Hoeun’s head snapped up instantly.

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you… thank you, so much.”

Hoeun’s face broke into giddy smile. He even shook Taemuk’s hand in delight. To be so glad to march into battle—it must be him alone in all the world.

In silence, Taemuk looked down upon that joy. Then, brushing his hand free, he tossed in an odd remark.

“But don’t change clothes. Go as you are.”

“…What?”

Hoeun glanced down at himself. He wore a soft lavender robe embroidered with lotus blossoms. Comfortable enough, yes, but fit for the battlefield? Hardly.

“Why…”

He meant to ask, but Taemuk had already gone out from the tent.

…

Hoeun had thought perhaps a few dozen would march. After all, those Jeokudae soldiers who had searched the capital for him had been only that many.

But this time, three hundred rode forth. The ground shook like thunder beneath so many hooves. Dust filled the air thick, stinging, blinding.

The town lay one full day’s ride by both night and day. They rested only twice, and those pauses were for the sake of the horses, not of men.

Through all the hours not a single monster did they meet. Only the wide plain and the dense forests. As if the creatures had all been herded elsewhere, the silence was eerie enough to chill the skin.

Then at last, as dawn broke, the town’s walls rose into sight.

Tall and intact, with eyes alone it seemed nothing had happened. No bloodstains. No screams. But the stillness was wrong—harsh, cold.

“…”

Hoeun swallowed hard. He tallied the days. One full day for the wounded soldier to reach Jeokudae camp. Another full day for them to come now. Two days. Who knew what had happened in such time. If anything—it would not have been good.

According to Gilsang, this town was the nearest to their camp. They had come here often for supplies. A sizable town, with many children, home to gentle folk.

Just at that, Hoeun’s heart weighed even heavier. Though he had never seen them, he felt for them—hoped they had hidden safely. Hoped they had lived. He had seen once what it meant for an entire village to be slaughtered. He prayed it not be so here.

The Jeokudae rode on till the walls pressed near. Then, all at once, Taemuk halted at the head. He glanced back at the columns. Then he tugged his reins and swerved left. Fifty riders peeled off close behind, following.

“…”

Hoeun clutched his reins, ready to follow. But strangely only those few ranks split away, leaving the rest unmoving.

He looked around, confused. Meanwhile Taemuk drew farther at every moment.

“Ah…”

He had to go with him. He had come to stand by him. That was the soul of his role—his guide.

Footnotes

1. Hoeun’s lavender robe with lotus embroidery: In Korean dress, a 도포 (dopo), a scholar’s robe signifying status and refinement. It underscores the jarring image of such elegance carried into war.