TCBW C7

Chapter 7

Curiously, the little mountain birds — so quiet that one might not notice their presence — were actually fluttering busily above the nest in a tight cluster.

Right beside them, a snake the same color as the tree trunk was slipping its tail back and forth, sliding in and out of the nest, plundering it.

A child falling from the wall, a snake, the birds, the nest…

Dowoon felt as though he understood the entire sequence of events, though at the same time he almost didn’t want to believe it.

At this age, to be doing something so reckless?

Yet even when he tried to imagine other possibilities, none of them fit so perfectly.

If this youth in wedding robes had been trying to protect fledgling birds from a snake, lost his footing, and fallen — well, that scenario made perfect sense.

Without hesitation, Dowoon suddenly lifted his leg and struck the tree trunk hard with his foot. The trunk was not thick, and it shook; the snake tumbled to the ground from the recoil.

Whether it had been the snake or the nest that fell made no difference to Dowoon — he simply needed some outlet for the frustration he felt at this absurd situation.

Turning his head, he found, at a perfectly timed moment, that Suhoe had just opened his eyes — and was looking right at him.

Suhoe blinked up at him with those clear, bright chestnut-brown eyes.

Seeing that, Dowoon thought again that the boy might be even younger than he’d first guessed.

Meanwhile, Suhoe, startled awake by the thud, found himself more struck by the cool gaze of the stranger holding him than by the fact that he was in a strange man’s arms. His mind went blank, his attention caught entirely in that gaze.

Perhaps it was the unusually overcast weather — but Dowoon’s pale brown eyes seemed to shine alone in the dark.

In an instant, a memory surfaced in Suhoe’s mind.

At the age of ten, he’d had a single, fleeting encounter with a mountain spirit in the form of a tiger — and he had glimpsed golden eyes.

“So, he must have been hunting.”

“The spirit?”

“If he has taken the form of a beast, then of course he’ll act as a beast does.”

“A beast… like a hawk, or a wildcat?”

“Not just those. Anything that hunts and devours — their eyes all gleam. A deep yellow, shining like gold itself.”

Since that day, Suhoe had never again seen such a sight — not until this very moment.

The instant their eyes met, the memory returned to him, and before he knew it, he murmured softly:

“…Beast.”

Dowoon had been observing the boy the whole time — watching as those clear chestnut eyes blinked open, gazed up blankly — and he certainly hadn’t missed hearing the absurd murmur that slipped from the youth’s lips.

He’d saved him from a fall, and in return… this?

For an instant, the muscles between his brows tightened faintly — and catching that tiny change, Suhoe drew in a small breath and seemed suddenly to return to himself, glancing around as if startled.

Dowoon thought that now, with his senses back, the boy would surely ask to be put down. He obligingly lowered himself slightly, making it easier.

But instead of trying to free himself, Suhoe only darted his gaze around anxiously, as if searching for something.

His eyes followed something slithering away across the ground, then quickly turned away from it toward the sky — and then, to Dowoon’s further bemusement, he began moving his lips as though counting something.

Watching the strange sight in silence, Dowoon pressed his lips together, momentarily at a loss for what to say.

A familiar throb began again at his temples, and he closed his eyes briefly against the ache.

Along with that pain came a clear conclusion in his mind: the boy was either far younger than he’d assumed… or simply lacking in sense.

“Ah—!”

Whatever faint, damp emotion had lingered on Suhoe’s face turned suddenly pale — and then just as quickly flushed crimson. It happened only seconds after he seemed to realize that he was being held in Dowoon’s arms.

Startled, he splayed his slender fingers and brought them up to hide his face.

Dowoon, who had been silently waiting for him to come to his senses, asked in a voice heavy with fatigue from the whole commotion:

“…The building ahead — is that the shrine?”

“…Yes.”

“And you live here?”

As if confessing to a crime, Suhoe ducked his head and answered.

“…Yes. I… I’m sorry. I’ll get down right away.”

He began to push weakly at Dowoon’s chest, trying to free himself.

“You’re not even wearing shoes.”

At that quiet remark, Suhoe froze. Only now did he realize his feet were bare.

“…Ah… you’re right. I… I can’t.”

At last he fell completely silent, bowing his head still lower as if to hide the heat burning in his cheeks.

Dowoon didn’t know why the boy had no shoes on, or how he could even forget such a thing — nor could he understand the thought of stepping barefoot onto a winter mountain ground littered with branches and stones.

But then, a boy who would climb onto a tiled roof in hanbok surely wasn’t given to reasonable decisions anyway.

“…Where did they go?”

“Probably…”

Just as Dowoon was clicking his tongue in disbelief at Suhoe’s behavior, noise arose from beyond the wall.

The sound of people murmuring, multiple sets of hurried footsteps growing rapidly closer — it was obvious to Dowoon that they were coming for Suhoe.

Without a word, he tightened the arm around the boy’s slim waist.

Suhoe drew in a startled breath at the sudden strength, but instead of pushing him away as before, he soon leaned into him.

“Good. Stay still — struggle and you’ll cause a scene if you get hurt.”

“…Yes.”

As Dowoon had foreseen, the heavy, weathered gate shuddered from within and then swung open wide.

For no apparent reason, however, the once-docile Suhoe was now giving off far stronger pheromones than before, and Dowoon frowned again.

“Rein in your pheromones. Now.”

“Ah…!”

At his sharp tone, instead of controlling his scent, Suhoe seemed to release even more — as though his defense mechanisms had kicked in — and a stronger wave of fragrance spilled out.

Dowoon felt irritation spark.

Had he asked him to rein it in only for the boy to try suffocating him with pheromones?

Under Dowoon’s glacial stare, Suhoe swallowed nervously and shifted his eyes.

Countless thoughts blurred in the boy’s mind — here he was, in the arms of a stranger telling him to control pheromones — yet he had never learned such a thing, and in truth, he had no idea how it was even done.

And Dowoon’s sharp, cutting tone only heightened that instinctive fear, making his body tense further.

“I… actually…”

Finally, Suhoe began to confess, haltingly, that he could not control his pheromones — but his voice was abruptly drowned out by a bellow from just beyond the gate.

From inside came a large, broad‑shouldered man with a grim face, shouting urgently:

“Young master! Young master!”

For a beta, his frame was strikingly large.

Behind him came an elderly woman, her back deeply stooped, chasing after him with labored breaths.

Though she wore a faded, threadbare hanbok, the moment Dowoon met her eyes, a peculiar chill washed over him. And he immediately had a suspicion as to who she was.

“If you want to find the head shaman of Mount Unbang, look for Gye‑geum. You’ll understand at a glance — she’s no ordinary old woman.”

When his father had said that, Dowoon hadn’t thought much of it. But standing here, meeting her gaze, he knew.

She had to be Gye‑geum.

Still holding Suhoe, Dowoon began striding toward the old woman — but suddenly Unhyo stepped between them, blocking his path with a dark, scowling face.

“Who are you?”

His low, threatening voice was laced openly with hostility and suspicion.

Dowoon glanced down at him indifferently.

Gye‑geum, seeing this, swiftly reached out to seize Unhyo’s arm and shook her head sharply, signaling him to stop.

“This is a guest. Unhyo, take Suhoe inside.”

Though her voice was thin and dry, the authority within it was sharp and unyielding, like frost in midwinter.

Enough that Unhyo — who had been bristling, ready to spring at Dowoon — immediately dropped his rough demeanor at her single quiet command, biting his lip before turning away.

Grudgingly, he reached for Suhoe, his hands rough and awkward as though moving an object, lifting him out of Dowoon’s arms — and yet, he still bent his head briefly in formality.

“…Excuse me.”

With that, he turned abruptly and strode away.

“Young master — you aren’t hurt anywhere, are you?”

“No, I’m… fine. But…”

As they went, Unhyo’s eyes moved swiftly over Suhoe’s arms, legs, and face, checking for injuries before stepping through the gate.

Dowoon, still standing where he was, simply watched — expressionless — as Unhyo all but snatched Suhoe away without offering him any courtesy as a “guest,” and as Suhoe disappeared quietly in his arms.