BW C87

Chapter 87

The entire iron fence shuddered with a ringing clang under the impact. That kind of collision would have crippled a lesser being, but the monster showed no sign of pain as it hurled itself against the barrier again and again.

KRAAAK! KHK, KHAK-KRAAK!

It rammed its arms through the narrow gaps, clawing madly at the air, even tried to force its gaping jaws through though they could not fit. Sawtooth fangs scraped against the bars with a grating shriek. Its burning red eyes followed Hoeun and Seong-im without blinking.

“Hhhah, hhhah…”

“Hhhah…”

Hoeun and Seong-im’s breath poured in thick clouds of steam as they stared at it, chests heaving under the pounding rain. For a long moment, neither of them could move. Their limbs trembled helplessly, refusing strength. Even Seong-im, always unshaken, had her shoulders drooping, gasping for air.

Hoeun wiped sweat and rain from his face with the back of his hand, then quickly checked Jung-woo in his arms, then glanced at Seong-im, making sure she was not hurt. Only then did he dare look back at the beast again.

GrrRRRhhhhh…

The monster growled, pressing the full weight of its body against the bars. Its mouth twisted and shoved through the gaps, lips tearing, gums crushed, even teeth cracking in its crazed effort to reach them.

And under that relentless hunger, the fence groaned, bending. CREEEK, CRRRK—

Hoeun grasped Seong-im’s elbow and pulled her back.

“W-we need to go inside. Quickly.”

She nodded and rose, and Hoeun staggered up after her. At last he lifted his head to behold the church properly.

It was not so large. Compared to the churches in Hanyang, it was humble—perhaps room enough for a hundred if packed head to shoulder.

But its roof rose high, its stone walls stood solid, and its doors were heavy iron. The fence and walls intact, it seemed clean of monsters.

Seong-im shook the mud from her blade and stepped to the doors. Hoeun backed toward it in reverse, eyes trained on the beast still slamming its weight at the fence.

“….”

Seong-im pressed her ear to the seam, straining for any sound inside. Nothing. She seized the angular latch handle and pulled hard. It didn’t budge. Locked from within.

“….”

Hoeun ground his teeth. The memory of the shelter returned. What if again it was nobles inside, barring the way? Yet whether or not—that no longer mattered. They had no choice left. This had to open.

He tapped Seong-im’s shoulder, gestured her aside. Drawing deep breath, he hammered the door with his fists.

THUD, THUD, THUD!

“Is anyone there? Please—open the door!”

But his words drowned in the roar of rain. He pressed his forehead near the seam and shouted again.

“I beg you—there is a woman and a child! Please, open!”

His lip trembled. His gut twisted. Hope was thin enough already—and they had dragged the beast right to the door besides.

What if they refused?

The monster was danger enough. But his body was giving in too. His fingertips were numb, stings of frost-bitten cold already creeping in. His vision flickered, fading.

Could they not just—show a little compassion?

Hoeun swayed, forehead sliding down to rest against the iron. His breath rasped white against the door as he whispered brokenly:

“Please…”

Before the words even finished, the door quivered. Metal rattled. He felt, against his brow, the scrape of bolts being drawn free from the inside. His eyes shot wide. He stumbled back a half-step.

Then—KRRRREEEECH.

The door cracked open. Hoeun didn’t even pause to look in. Hugging Jung-woo, he rushed inside at once, spinning back—

“Lady Seong-im!”

She retreated step by step, sword fixed on the beast, never turning her eyes as she slipped through the opening. The instant the three passed over the threshold, the door slammed shut with weight enough to shake the church itself. THUD.

And moments later, the sound of bolts thrust firmly back into place rang out.

“Hhhah… hhhah…”

Hoeun’s lungs burned as he gasped. His knees nearly folded beneath him. If not for the long bench behind, he would have crumpled entirely. The tension eased—as though only now he realized that between the beast and them, just one door stood.

Seong-im caught his elbow, steadied him. He touched her wrist soft in thanks, then lifted his head. Whoever was inside—he owed them thanks for opening, for saving them.

But the interior was all shadow. Only thin moonlight filtered through high-set windows, dimmed further by rain. Shadows swallowed everything. He couldn’t see if anyone stood there at all.

Nor came a single voice. Neither “Who are you? Why did you come? Are you noble?” Nothing.

And yet… he felt them. Watching. Silent. Waiting.

If wrong, they could still throw him and Seong-im back outside. Back to the monster.

“….”

Hoeun swallowed hard and held Jung-woo tighter. Seong-im raised her sword again, standing at his side.

Then—scratch, tap… FWUP.

A flame bloomed. A candle, struck alight. In its orange glow, faces appeared.

Not adults. Not men.

Girls.

Six or seven of them, perhaps thirteen, fourteen years old. Each with hair neatly braided, ribbons of different colors tied at the ends. Their simple hanbok was plain but practical, fit for movement.

Their wide eyes shimmered with fear as they stared at Hoeun and Seong-im.

“…Ah…”

Hoeun’s chest eased all at once. Compared with the beasts outside, compared even to the cruel nobles—they posed no threat. At that moment, they were nothing but frightened children.

For a moment he nearly collapsed in relief. But first—he had to speak.

“Thank you—for saving us.”

Cradling Jung-woo in one arm, he pressed the other hand low at his stomach and bowed deep. Beside him, Seong-im lowered her sword and bowed also. Clearly she too judged these girls meant no harm.

“….”

“….”

But the children gave no reply. They huddled close, hands gripping shoulders, glancing at each other nervously. Their fear was plain—for them even to have opened the door was astonishing.

So the church fell into silence again. Only the storm pounding the windows, only the distant banging as the monster battered the fence outside.

Then—

“W-where… where did you come from?”

One of them edged forward, candle raised. She wore a yellow ribbon in her braid.

“Ah—yes. We came from the hospital. Or rather… from the Jeokudae…”

Hoeun began—but cut short. His feet carried him a step closer without thinking. The girl startled back two steps. The other girls surged forward, shielding her, glaring at him.

“D-don’t come closer!”

“Stay away!”

“….”

Hoeun froze, halted where he was. And then he looked closely—really looked.

Her face was strange. Unfamiliar. And yet—so familiar.

How could a stranger’s face feel so known?

He stared until at last, he understood.

The girl resembled Jung-woo.

The same round, bright eyes. The flat brow. The plump nose.

“…You—are you Jeong-i?”

His voice was softer than ever, gentle. Her eyes flew wide, nearly bursting.

“Y-you know me?”

“…Ah…”

Hoeun let out a sigh thick with relief and awe, and quickly shook the boy in his arms, pressing his cheek.

“Jung-woo. We’ve found your sister.”

The small head rose from his chest. Bewilderment painted across it. Hoeun smoothed rain-wet hair back, wiped tear-streaked cheeks. The boy should meet his sister clean, he thought.

“Jung-woo? My brother?”

“Yes. Jung-woo. Park Jung-woo.”

“Is it… really my Jung-woo?”

Trembling, she stepped closer. Hoeun bent to the floor, set the boy down gently, nudged him forward. His legs, injured, could not run—but he could still face her.

The girl lifted the candle, her hand shaking. She lit his face. And her own crumbled.

“Jung-woo!”

Her voice broke as she collapsed forward, arms gathering him in crush.

“Nuni? Nuniya!”

Jung-woo’s small hands clawed at her, searching, gripping.

“Yes—it’s me. You lived… you lived. Thank heaven, you lived…”

She pressed her cheek against his tears and clung tighter.

“….”

For a moment Jung-woo just stared—then clenched tight and sobbed, loud and broken. His sister wept with him until their cries echoed through the cold church.

Hoeun watched.

And thought how strange—how wondrous—that grief could sound just like joy. That tears could sound so much like laughter. That such beautiful sorrow could exist.

 

TL – nuni was used instead of noona in the joseon  korea