BW C83

Chapter 83

The sheet rope slipped from his grasp.

Hoeun was thin, and for all his lightness, it only meant his strength was all the frailer. His slender wrists could not even bear the weight of his own body.

He scrambled, desperate to catch hold of the rope again—but every time his palms touched, it only scraped his skin raw without slowing his fall.

“No—no, no…”

The wind hissed past his ears, shhhhhh, tearing at his hair ribbon until it shot upright as though plucked. His upper body, heavier by comparison, tilted backward, and in a breath he was falling supine. His fluttering hanbok rippled behind him like a flag in storm.

“….”

He squeezed his eyes shut, braced for the impact—falling, crashing, breaking, maybe dying. He folded his neck inward, shoulders up to his ears, waiting for pain. And so—

Thud.

He fell. And yet… his back struck something soft. Not the softness of silk bedding perhaps, but not hard earth either. No pain shot through his bones.

“….”

Hoeun blinked up at the dusk-dimmed sky, clouds only faintly scrawling its face. Then, a face filled his view. Seong-im. In her arms, Jung-woo reached toward him.

“H-how… how did…?”

Hoeun sat up suddenly, dazed, and turned to see where he had landed. The ground beneath was thickly cushioned with piles of cut grass and weeds. The nearby grass and trees had been hacked away.

So that was why Seong-im had given no signal—the moment she reached the ground, she had been busy clearing and cutting grass to form a landing mat for him. Clever beyond words.

“…Thank you.”

Hoeun bowed deeply. He had lost count how many times he owed debts like this—to Gilsang, to Seong-im. She only gave a short jerk of the chin by way of acknowledgment.

Hoeun took Jung-woo back into his arms and at last lifted his gaze to his surroundings.

“….”

The hospital and its courtyard had been nothing short of hell itself, but here was only silence. No sign of monsters, no hint of people. The buildings stretching down the road were windowless hollows, dark and abandoned. The sheer stillness of it gnawed uneasy at the heart—no less fearful than the monstrous swarm itself.

Hoeun shifted his hold on Jung-woo, peering down the silent road.

Where to go now? He had left the hospital out of instinct, yet had no destination. They needed one. To wander without direction was to be captured sooner or later.

“Hm…”

For a long moment, Hoeun thought. Then recalled the map Taemuk had shown him in their command tent before leaving. The hospital… and near it, the other buildings marked—shelter, central church, Seolgong merchants’ hall, Seonghwa Girls’ School. Which meant… there should be a shelter close by.

“What if… we aim for the shelter?”

He asked Seong-im. She turned her eyes on him.

“I can’t be sure of the distance from memory, but it seemed near on the map. They said already five hundred were inside—but surely, just the three of us could fit in, somehow?”

Even if they had no bed to rest upon, even if only a corner to stand—it would be enough. He could cling there until Taemuk slaughtered every last monster.

Seong-im hesitated, then nodded. She adjusted her grip on the sword and let out one steadying breath.

Hoeun tightened his ribbon, pulling his hair-knot taut. Then he looked up and suddenly exclaimed “Ah!” Pulling at the sheet still hanging from the window, he turned to her.

“Would you cut me just a piece of this? About—this long?”

He gestured below his chest. She arched a brow at the strange request, but without comment cut it.

Hoeun spread it out, wrapping it around Jung-woo’s back. Then wound his own torso in it as well, tying a firm knot at his side. Soon it looked exactly like a baby sling, the boy secured tightly against his chest.

He hopped in place. Even without much effort in his arms, Jung-woo stuck fast to his chest like a cicada to tree bark. No matter what happened, Jung-woo would not slip.

Stroking his head, Hoeun held his gaze softly.

“Jung-woo, now….”

His throat bobbed. He drank a swallow of air—readying himself to lie.

“…We’re going to find your sister Jeong-i.”

It was not that he had given up searching. But the immediate goal was not her—the goal was survival, reaching the shelter. If she were there, it would be salvation. If not… no one could slip away to search until it was all over. To say so truthfully was cruel.

Jung-woo’s eyes, ignorant but bright with hope, lit like lanterns.

“Sister?”

“Yes. Your sister. But remember this—if you cry, or shout, it will be harder to find her. You must not cry, no matter what happens. All right?”

He did not command, he did not scold—he pleaded. Jung-woo gazed at him a long moment, then nodded firmly.

“Good boy.”

Hoeun smiled, stroking him again and tucking a piece of chocolate in the tiny hand. Then he patted the boy’s bottom to secure him on the sling and turned to Seong-im.

“….”

“….”

For one long heartbeat, their eyes met. Then Seong-im turned to walk. Hoeun followed.

The world was still. Too still. Likely every nearby monster had swarmed to the hospital, leaving the streets deserted. Here and there blood pooled, corpses half-chewed lay abandoned. But that was all.

It was smoother going than expected, though both knew not to relax. For Hoeun it was the first time walking through battle-field streets on foot, every step a fear—if monsters appeared, fleeing was hopeless. No human legs could outrun them.

“….”

“….”

They tread carefully, as soft as they could, footsteps hushed. Seong-im checked behind every few paces, and Hoeun signaled with nods, or whispered directions.

“Here—we turn right.”

At the corner, she pressed against the wall, peered out. By then the twilight had bled fully into night—but with it, the moon rose bright, silvering the streets. Whether it was fortune or misfortune, Hoeun did not know.

Seong-im checked him once more, then turned sharply around the wall. Hoeun followed her exact step, heel into her heel. Blood smears on the walls caught the moonlight, fractured into twitching shadows as they passed.

She turned left on his word, then broke into a jog straight ahead, then curved right again. By the time their breathing stung hot in their throats—

[▶▶ Road to Ramjae-eup East Shelter ▶▶

In event of monster incursion, proceed quickly to this location.]

The sign stood before them.

Relief lit Hoeun’s face at last, twisting his lips into a shaky smile. He had feared all this way that perhaps his memory betrayed them, that he was misguiding them. But they were right. For once, he’d done something properly. Foolishly, he felt proud.

“Fuuh…”

He wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Tension and fear had overheated him, legs quivering beneath. But there was no rest yet.

They hurried after the sign—and soon, stopped short again.

“Ah…”

An incline loomed ahead, steep and long. Hoeun’s eyes darkened. To climb this, after all they had endured? He nearly closed his eyes, but forced them open again. He had leapt barehanded from a third-story window—what was one hill?

He squeezed Jung-woo tighter and took the slope.

But from the top of that hill blew a wind that seemed born of storm. WHHHHHSH, it pressed at his chest, strong enough to push him backward with each step.

The climb was harder for it, but Seong-im walked on light as always, no tremor in her step. Hoeun glimpsed her effortless stride and thought vaguely—if he survived, perhaps he could be like that too.

And then—

“Ghhk…”

He bit down a shriek. A corpse lay beside the slope, its torso grotesquely gnawed. Its vacant eyes seemed to meet his own. Seong-im turned, alert, but he forced an awkward smile—I’m fine.

There were many corpses here. Or rather—remnants. Most had been chewed savagely to ruins. Too many to count.

So much blood swamped the slope it was as if a crimson waterfall had poured from its heights. Every step squelched and hissed, like snow packed underfoot. Nearby walls ran red, marred with claw-marks and footprints. Houses were toppled, demolished.

“….”

Never had he seen such a place—so many dead, so much red, so much pain. He could not begin to imagine how many had been consumed here.

And yet… at the end of this road was the shelter. That was certain. The soldier who had run to Jeokudae himself had said it stood. If so—then at the road’s end, hope awaited.

Hoeun clenched his jaw tight, and step by bloody step, climbed the slope.