By Zephyria 
“Too, too much….”
Ho-eun could not easily find the words to continue. He lacked the vocabulary to express the emotions he was feeling. He was too sad, too heartbroken, too devastated, and in too much pain. He also felt guilt, self-reproach, and a deep resentment toward his own frail body.
Tae-muk’s story was more cruel and tragic than any story Ho-eun had ever heard in his life. It was all the more tragic because that story was Tae-muk’s past. He had expected that Tae-muk’s life would not have been smooth, but he hadn’t known it would be this disastrous. It was a story that Ho-eun, who had grown up only within the safety of high walls, could not even dare to imagine.
“It’s okay.”
Tae-muk comforted Ho-eun with gentle pats. He carefully wiped away the tears that hung like transparent berries from Ho-eun’s thick eyelashes.
It was strange that Tae-muk was the one comforting Ho-eun, when he was the one who had been hurt, who had suffered, and who had been in pain, but Ho-eun didn’t find it strange. This was because, to Tae-muk, Ho-eun’s tears were sadder and more painful than all the tragedies of his past.
“It’s all in the past now.”
Tae-muk spoke quite calmly, and Ho-eun suddenly clung to Tae-muk’s back with his thin arms.
“Sob, huu… I’m sorry, I appeared too late, too late, and that’s why the General… huuuh….”
Then, like a kitten climbing up something, he continuously hugged, clung to, and squirmed against Tae-muk’s body. Even while embracing him with his whole body, he did so because he wanted to get as close as possible.
Tae-muk gave a low laugh at the sight of Ho-eun.
“You’re by my side now. So it’s fine.”
Tae-muk felt no resentment toward the tragedies he had endured. This was because the happiness he felt while holding Ho-eun in his arms was great enough to cover all of it.
As Tae-muk supported Ho-eun under his buttocks and slowly stroked his trembling back, Ho-eun’s braided hair slid to the side. It was just as Tae-muk’s gaze naturally drifted toward the silk that fluttered like a wave.
Ho-eun gasped, catching his breath, and quickly grabbed the hair tie with both hands to hide it. Then, with a face damp from tears, he stammered.
“I-I will cut my hair.”
“What?”
“They say one’s body, hair, and skin are gifts from one’s parents; if my parents knew the situation, they would understand.”
As he spoke, he crumpled the gripped hair in his hand. At this, Tae-muk frowned deeply.
“What kind of nonsense is that? Why would you cut your hair?”
“Because it might be painful for the General to look at… It might remind you of that, that wicked young master….”
Kneeling on Tae-muk’s lap, Ho-eun dropped his head gloomily.
He remembered the way Tae-muk used to look at his hair tie in the past. A gaze that was longing yet twisted, murky yet sharpened. Sometimes it was pulled painfully, and once, his entire head of hair had been grabbed. Furthermore, in Ramjae Town, even after providing him with all new clothes, Tae-muk had refused to give him a hair tie. He had wondered why, but now he felt he understood.
It must have been because it reminded him of the young master who fed him fodder and whipped his parents.
How agonizing it must have been. Unaware of that, Ho-eun had tied a different colored hair tie every single day. He had done it because it was neat, and because that was the only way he wouldn’t damage Tae-muk’s dignity. How foolish…
Ho-eun couldn’t even make a sound, only letting thick tears fall one by one.
“Don’t cut it. I hate the idea. There’s no need for that.”
Tae-muk gently pried the hair out of Ho-eun’s grip. Then, he carefully stroked it, checking to see if the hair or the hair tie had been damaged.
To think he would cut this. This was so soft, smooth, and plump—it felt wonderful to touch. If he kept it tied all day and let it down at night, he could fully inhale Ho-eun’s scent. Moreover, at night, he could personally dry it and brush it for him. No one would know how ecstatic the feeling was when the soft, fragrant hair brushed against his fingers.
Additionally, it was very pleasing to see the pretty-colored hair tie swaying gently whenever he walked or ran. It looked like a butterfly fluttering its wings, and it suited Ho-eun perfectly.
Cutting his hair was his choice, so Tae-muk wouldn’t say much, but if he did, it would be a great shame. No, he might even feel sorrow. After all, the hair was also a part of Ho-eun.
As Tae-muk pressed down on the crumpled hair tie with his palm as if ironing it, Ho-eun said something absurd again.
“Then, sh-should I wear a topknot?”
“…What?”
“A topknot.”
“That thing you wind around the crown of your head? You mean like an old man’s hair?”
“Yes. Originally, only men who have married can wear a topknot, but, uh, the General and I are already a pair matched by heaven, so even if we don’t have a ceremony, wearing a topknot wouldn’t be against etiquette.”
Having said that, Ho-eun swallowed a sob. Then, with eyes turned entirely pink from crying, he looked up at Tae-muk. His expression seemed to ask, This seems like a pretty good solution, don’t you think?
He didn’t seem to realize he was talking about topknots and weddings, nor did he seem to notice the emotions underlying those words.
“…….”
Tae-muk stared at Ho-eun for a moment, then, unable to resist, pulled Ho-eun’s waist toward him. Then, with his other hand, he cupped Ho-eun’s chin and cheek and swallowed his tear-dampened lips.
“Hup….”
Ho-eun recoiled in surprise, but soon wrapped his arms around Tae-muk’s neck and clung to him. A kiss was a very effective act for soothing Tae-muk’s pain.
Tae-muk explored Ho-eun’s lips very slowly and meticulously. He felt dizzy inside Ho-eun’s mouth, which was hotter than usual, whether due to the fever sickness or the crying.
He wanted to lay Ho-eun down just like this. He wanted to strip off his neat clothes, grip his white body strongly enough to leave handprints, and spread his legs. Since he hadn’t properly touched Ho-eun since the battle in the fir forest, his longing for him was at its peak.
But Tae-muk endured.
After slowly sucking and releasing Ho-eun’s lips with a few soft sounds, he reluctantly pulled back. Ho-eun raised an eyebrow at the kiss that had ended so quickly.
“Why? A little more— cough….”
Ho-eun stopped swallowing Tae-muk’s saliva remaining in his mouth and let out a dull cough. It was because of his scratchy throat. However, before the coughing could continue, he quickly covered his mouth. He pressed down on his lower jaw so hard that his cheeks bulged over his fingers.
Ho-eun coughed while keeping his mouth covered. Muffled sounds of khuk, kkuk escaped, and his face turned bright red, then pale. Tae-muk pulled Ho-eun’s hand away to stop him from pressing his lips.
“What is it? Does it hurt when you cough? Where? Your throat? Or your chest?”
Tae-muk asked with worried eyes. But Ho-eun kept his mouth tightly shut and shook his head. At that, Tae-muk tried to stand up immediately.
“Let’s go to the old man.”
Ho-eun quickly pulled at Tae-muk’s clothes.
“It’s, it’s not like that. I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Then why are you holding back the cough?”
“I-in case it reminds you of the Lieutenant Colonel….”
“Lieutenant Colonel? What Lieutenant Col— ah.”
Only then did Tae-muk realize Ho-eun’s intention; he let out a short laugh and sat back down on the porch. This time, it seemed he was worried about the Lieutenant Colonel who had died of lung disease.
“I told you, it’s all in the past. Now, even if I see a hair tie, I don’t think of people like that young master. I think of you. It’s the same when I hear the sound of a cough. I’m only worried that you might be in pain.”
“Still….”
The corners of Ho-eun’s lips drooped. Tears began to pool again in his pretty eyes. Tae-muk comforted him, gently rubbing Ho-eun’s cheek with his thumb.
“In my world right now, there are no nobles, no Devouring Ghouls.”
“…….”
“There is only you.”
“…….”
“So you don’t have to worry about things from the past.”
But Ho-eun could not stop crying. It was because the words ‘noble’ and ‘Devouring Ghoul’ coming from Tae-muk’s mouth were too painful. It was admirable, and at the same time agonizing, that Tae-muk could say those words so nonchalantly. It felt as if the pain had been so intense that it had simply faded away.
Ho-eun shed tears intermittently, coughed occasionally, and blinked slowly. It was because the heat had surged after crying. Now, it felt hot from his forehead all the way to his temples.
“Haa… come here.”
Tae-muk pulled the crying Ho-eun into his embrace. He felt a late regret—that he shouldn’t have told him if he knew he would be this sad.
Yet, it didn’t feel bad that Ho-eun viewed him with pity and compassion. It was perhaps because, even while holding Ho-eun, he felt as if he were the one being held.
Perhaps sensing Tae-muk’s heart, Ho-eun opened his arms wide and hugged Tae-muk. Then, with his small hands, he stroked Tae-muk’s broad back and patted him gently. The gesture was so cute and warm that a smile bloomed on Tae-muk’s lips.
Ho-eun held Tae-muk like that for a long time, then unconsciously turned his head to the side. The sun had risen brightly over the fortress wall. Only then did Ho-eun realize that morning had come. He had been so focused on Tae-muk’s story that he hadn’t noticed the world brightening.
“The sun has risen,” Ho-eun said, his voice damp from the tears.
“It has,” Tae-muk replied softly, stroking Ho-eun’s braided hair.