BW C91

Chapter 91

 

As Hoeun spoke, his eyelids fluttered and drooped. His body no longer held any strength—he couldn’t even feel it anymore. In truth, it was a miracle he had lasted this long. He should have collapsed while running through the rain, or if not then, toppled over climbing the slope toward the shelter.

But now that Taemuk had arrived, perhaps it was all right to rest a little. Couldn’t he sleep, just for a while? Only for a moment… just a very little while… As his eyes closed of their own accord, faces flickered across his vision.

“Ah…”

Hoeun forced his eyes open again. Then he looked at the young girls still huddled in the corner of the church, shivering.

“Th-there… there are children here. They saved me, and Lady Seongim as well. They’ve been here for two days, but they’ve hardly eaten or slept. They must be so afraid. And cold, terribly cold. And, ah—the girl with the yellow ribbon, her name is Jeongyi. The child with the injured leg is Jeongu, he’ll need his wound treated again. And also…”

Hoeun’s words dragged slowly onward, when suddenly his body lifted from the ground. Taemuk had picked him up in his arms.

“All right. I’ll take them all. So stop chattering.”

His tone sounded annoyed, but Hoeun knew this was not a man who broke his word. He shifted faintly, then leaned deep into Taemuk’s chest. Half-asleep, his voice slurred as he murmured,

“General…”

“What now.”

“Thank you…”

“….”

Taemuk gave no answer. Hoeun had never expected one—he only wanted to say it, then closed his eyes.

Soon his body rocked with motion, the sound of rain drawing closer. Wind brushed coldly over his nose and cheeks, but Taemuk’s arms were so warm that he did not feel cold at all.

A faint smile of relief touched Hoeun’s lips as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Hoeun awoke, unable to endure the discomfort. Today his underclothes felt unbearably tight, twisting as if to wring his body. How could he describe it? Like wearing clothes that had been drenched through…

And why was his body so cold? Had no fire been lit in the room? That couldn’t be—his father or mother always checked the brazier in his chamber at night…

At that thought, Hoeun’s eyes flew wide.

“….”

Above him was a ceiling dyed crimson. It wasn’t sunset—he was indoors. The light swayed and danced, so it seemed to come from a lantern. And beneath that glow—

“….”

Taemuk stood.

“…General?”

But he held something in his hand. A cord, or strip of cloth… Hoeun followed it with his gaze, only to realize it was the tie of his own jacket.

Startled, Hoeun shot upright.

“Wh-what are you doing!”

He tried to yank the tie from Taemuk’s grasp, but the man did not let go.

“Undressing you.”

At that shameless answer, Hoeun froze as if struck in the back of the head. After a moment, he shook his head sharply, regaining his senses.

“Why!”

“To wash you.”

Taemuk’s indifferent reply left Hoeun wide-eyed. Wash? Who? Him? Where? Only then did he glance around.

He was lying on the wooden floor of what seemed to connect to the inner quarters of a house. And below, a large tub had been set—brought here from elsewhere, it seemed, not part of the original place. Steam rose thickly from the hot water that filled it.

Hoeun blinked rapidly. Where was this? His last memory was the church—had they returned to the garrison already? But this was no military tent of Taemuk’s…

“Where… is this?”

“An empty house.”

Taemuk’s careless answer did little to resolve his doubts. Hoeun frowned faintly. From above came the familiar sound of heavy rain spilling down the roof.

“We’re still in Ramjae Town?”

“Yes.”

At that, Hoeun’s shoulders stiffened with tension. Ramjae was where the flesh-eating monsters had attacked. The place swarmed with them, and one could never know when they might appear.

“Is it really all right to bathe on a battlefield?”

He asked not in protest but in genuine confusion. Taemuk chuckled.

“Even a battlefield is still where people live. They eat, wash, do everything.”

“But if the monsters come near—what then?”

Taemuk fell silent, holding his breath. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though listening. With the rain so heavy, nothing could be heard far off, but nearby there was nothing—not monsters, not even people.

“There aren’t any.”

At his words, Hoeun immediately protested.

“But they could come.”

“And if they do?”

“….”

Hoeun’s chin trembled. Well, true. This was Taemuk. If monsters came, it would not be their misfortune, but the monsters’. The image of Taemuk felling them with a single punch and crushing their skulls beneath his heel was still vivid in his mind.

So now he had no excuse left to avoid bathing.

Hoeun touched his own cheek, roughened from drying after the rain, and glanced sidelong at Taemuk. The man, too, was soaked through—his black hair darker still, his uniform glistening with water.

“Y-you should wash first. I’ll go after you.”

Hoeun climbed down from the floor, but unable to find the door, he climbed back up again. He thought to wait inside the inner room with the door shut until Taemuk finished.

“….”

At the pitiful sight, Taemuk arched a brow. Hoeun sensed his irritation but pretended not to, shuffling awkwardly toward the inner room. Or tried to—until Taemuk caught his ankle.

“I’m bathing with you.”

“…Excuse me?”

Hoeun turned his head stiffly. Taemuk repeated the words himself.

“With you. Together.”

Hoeun’s eyelids fluttered rapidly. He swallowed dryly, fumbling out an excuse.

“B-but the tub—it looks too small. For both of us to fit—”

“Should I just throw you in as you are?”

“…No.”

“Then take off your clothes quietly.”

Dragging him to the edge of the floor, Taemuk released his ankle with a flick, then began stripping his own clothes. Hoeun stiffened, unable to move, only watching his every motion.

Taemuk shrugged off his uniform coat, revealing the garment beneath—a robe stained red all over, torn in places. At the sight, Hoeun leapt to his feet.

“You’re hurt?”

His cry was almost a scream as he rushed barefoot toward Taemuk, tugging at the blood-soaked cloth.

“How badly—how badly are you hurt?”

“Heh…”

At such outrageous insolence, Taemuk let out a low laugh. But Hoeun paid no heed, tugging the robe insistently until his torso was revealed.

Across the ridges of hardened muscle, large and small wounds lay scattered. Not so deep as to bare bone, like that time in the village, but wounds nonetheless. He recalled belatedly the claw that had struck Taemuk’s shoulder at the church.

“….”

Hoeun’s brows drooped low. He hadn’t thought Taemuk had been delayed out of idleness, but seeing the injuries with his own eyes made his chest sink. While he had struggled desperately, Taemuk had been fighting just as hard.

“We need—we need to treat these right away. Were the medics with us? No, there was a skilled doctor here in town—did you see him? I’ll go find him right now.”

He turned to leave, but Taemuk caught his wrist, drawing him back. Then he stepped close, tilting Hoeun’s chin upward.

“Why need a doctor, when I have you.”

“…What?”

“There must be something a guide can do for his wounded general.”

He pressed his thumb firmly along Hoeun’s chin, stroking. His eyelids lowered lazily, then lifted again.

“Uh… ah…”

Hoeun’s lips parted faintly, revealing the moist gleam of his tongue. Taemuk’s eyes narrowed.

He slid his thumb into the small mouth, pressing down against the soft tongue. He could feel the tender flesh yield beneath his finger. His throat tightened visibly.

“Kh—”

Hoeun coughed, chest heaving, and stepped back. With a wet sound, Taemuk’s thumb slipped free of his mouth. He rubbed the saliva-slick finger with his index, fighting the sudden urge to put it in his own mouth—barely restraining himself.