BW C85

Chapter 85

How could there be five hundred nobles inside the shelter? Was such a thing even possible?

No—on the face of it, it was impossible.

This town hardly seemed large enough. Of the two thousand or so residents he’d been told lived here, even gathering every noble household and their retainers together would not fill such a number. And even if it did, when the monsters breached the walls, surely everyone, rank regardless, would have rushed into the shelter. The bloody footprints all along the road to here testified to that.

Hoeun’s breath caught.

“Surely not…”

The scene unfolded in his mind as though before his eyes.

Monsters breaking through the gates in the dead of night.

Terrified families clutching their children, or dragging along their aged parents, racing up the slope to the shelter.

But the nobles, arriving first by car.

The nobles, barring the door while others remained outside.

The pleas that rang out—“Open! Let us in! Save us!”—falling against a sealed gate.

The monsters that followed close behind.

The steel wall before them, the horde behind them.

No escape.

Men, women, children devoured while they screamed, clawed, cried, bled.

“….”

Hoeun slowly lowered his gaze. Clouds had shifted and the moonlight gleamed clear upon the ground. What he saw made his stomach clench.

The blood-soaked earth had hardened like stone. And embedded within, glinting faintly, were countless small, pearly fragments. At first, like seashells. But no—he realized what they truly were.

Fingernails.

The fingernails of those who had clawed and beaten on this iron door, begging to be let in. It was clear now why the door was painted in blood.

Hoeun did not lift his eyes away. He spoke, voice steady.

“Then, since I am noble, you will let me in.”

“Aye. Because you’re noble.”

“I see. Because I am noble.”

Because he was noble. Noble. Noble.

The word echoed, hollow, bitter, inside him.

The man squinted, suspicion rising.

“But are you truly the Choi family’s son? Hard to believe a boy of such house would be wandering here. Isn’t Hanyang far off?”

“….”

“Perhaps… others from Hanyang will come searching for you? If so, maybe we, too, could travel with them back to the capital….”

“….”

“Truth be told, it is we who are doing you the favor. But—if you promised to take us along, I might allow that brat in your arms to come as well.”

At that, Hoeun smoothed a hand gently across Jung-woo’s small, wet head. He answered softly:

“…That may be possible.”

The man’s eyes sparkled.

“Truly? You mean it?”

Hoeun nodded. Instantly the man turned, whispering back to those inside. From behind the steel door came muffled shouts of cheer.

Hoeun’s voice cut again.

“But—you say there isn’t room. How many inside now?”

“Hm? Us? Around seventy.”

“Seventy…”

The shelter could house five hundred. Which meant there was room enough for four hundred and thirty more. Four hundred and thirty souls who could have lived. But the door had never opened. Instead, their flesh and their screams had fed the monsters.

Hoeun’s eyes hardened.

And these men—how different were they from that landowner, the one who had cast peasants out to be slaughtered? In truth—not different at all. Equally vile. Equally deserving of punishment.

He drew in a breath, his gaze lifting.

“Soon… he will come.”

“Who? Your father?”

“No. The General.”

“The General…? What General?”

The man’s brows pinched high, confused. Hoeun stepped closer, voice low—so low only he himself and the night heard it, so Jung-woo could not. Yet each word was sharp, unflinching.

“The General will punish you all.”

And if he will not—then I will. I will return. I will see you punished for four hundred and thirty souls.

“What are you rambling—”

The man spat—but Hoeun did not answer. He turned sharp upon his heel, passing Seong-im, face carved hard with resolve.

“Lady Seong-im. Let’s go. We’ll find… another way, elsewhere…”

But mid-step, he froze. His feet caught on doubt.

Elsewhere? Where else? Where could they go?

And yet… he could not stomach going inside. Not there. Not among them.

But if from stubborn pride, from wrath, he condemned Jung-woo and Seong-im as well—that would make him no better than the nobles inside.

Survival first. Morality later. Surely? If it meant their safety, should he not beg again for entry?

His thoughts twisted, battling. Then Seong-im’s hand closed warm at his elbow. His eyes flew—met hers.

She gave a small nod. A nod that said I understand what battles in you. I know your thoughts.

His brows bent low. His voice cracked soft.

“Is it truly… all right, to leave them?”

She nodded again. And then—at last, for the first time since they met—she smiled. Faint. Not reaching her eyes. But clear enough.

Hoeun lowered his head, shoulders trembling once—and stepped forward.

From behind, the man’s voice barked—“Hey! You there! Wait!”—but Hoeun did not turn. Each stride away made his chest lighter, air easier to breathe.

By the time they were halfway down the slope, he drew one heavy breath, steady. He shifted Jung-woo up in his sling. The child blinked at him, wide-eyed, cheeks smeared with chocolate. Hoeun smiled faintly and wiped his mouth clean.

“…Sorry, little one. But it seems your sister isn’t there.”

Jeong-i could never be inside a shelter where commoners weren’t admitted. She was elsewhere—he prayed still alive. That her blood wasn’t among the dark stains covering the town.

“….”

Plop, splat, plop.

Something wet struck his brow, his cheek. Rain.

Hoeun tilted his head. The moon, once clear, was smudged behind thick clouds. The sky was heavy, swift-moving. He knew it—it would soon break.

“It’s raining.”

His voice was half-relieved, half-strained. As though they needed misfortune piled atop misfortune. Seong-im too lifted her gaze, face serene but shadowed.

The wind hit first, sudden and slicing. WHIIIISHH! It shoved Hoeun so hard he staggered forward. He lifted his chin—and between the jagged outlines of rooftops, he saw it.

A crossbeam of steel, forming the shape of a cross.

The church.

The rain grew heavier even as his eyes fixed upon it. In moments it was no longer rain but torrent. A storm. Drops lashed like stones, striking the face to sting. The wind blew fury, driving sheets of rain sideways, slapping skin raw.

The sound was overwhelming—rain drumming, wind screaming. Enough that even if the monsters roared, they would not hear it.

“Hhhah, hhhah—”

Hoeun gasped and stumbled. Mud clung at his feet with each step, sucking and tearing at his shoes. His soaked robes weighed him like chains, each movement punishing.

He raised his head, squinting through the water. The cross still stood distant. Every part of him urged to throw himself into any building just to escape the storm—but no.

The law of the Empire was clear. Any building fit for a hundred souls or more must be walled, fenced, warded against monsters. That was why the hospital had had its palisade, and why the church too would. It was safety. They had to reach it.

But—he was failing. His chest beat raw, every bone screamed fatigue.

“Wait—please, wait…”

He shouted to Seong-im through noise so loud she didn’t hear. Again—louder—and she looked back at last.

“Just… a breath…”

He clung to a wall, chest heaving, breath steaming white into the storm-chilled night. The air was turning ice with the rain. It soaked them through, rattling bones, numbing his fingertips, his toes.

“…Hhhah, hhah…”

His eyelids fluttered, heavy. Was it the blur of water, or vertigo? He could not tell. He felt his body reaching the edge. No—in truth, the edge had already been crossed. He feared he might collapse in the mud without even knowing.

That would not do. He couldn’t fail her, couldn’t fail them.

He bit his lip—and then, suddenly, a small hand reached up from the sling at his chest.

Jung-woo’s hand.

The boy swiped the rain from Hoeun’s cheek. His dark eyes blinked wide at him.

“You’re cold. Forgive me,” Hoeun whispered. He tugged the sheet tighter over the child’s head. It was soaked, useless against the rain—but it was all he had.

“…Let’s keep going.”

He nodded once to Seong-im. She returned it, and stepped forward again, striding into the downpour.

They rounded a corner—and the wind hurled against their faces. The rain was like small stones, so that both had to squeeze eyes shut, stumbling.

When they opened them again—

“….”

“….”

They saw it.

At the corner of the road, broad as a gate, head wide and flat beneath a helm of bone, spine knotted grotesque with bulging ridges, thighs thick as dwarf trees—

A monster.