By Zephyria 
Ho-eun made his way to the Medical Station today, as he did every day. As he walked down the slope with his hands clasped behind his back, someone beside him spoke.
“Spring really is spring. It’s warm during the day now.”
It was Chilbok.
“It is. It’s truly spring now…”
Ho-eun agreed with a small smile. The cold that had felt as though it would rage on forever had finally subsided. Though snow still fell occasionally and it remained cold enough to make one shiver after sunset, it was clear that spring had arrived.
‘No matter how late, spring always comes eventually.’
Looking at the snow piled up like discarded waste in the shade beneath a wall, Ho-eun recalled something Tae-muk had once said. Then, hearing a rattling sound, he turned his gaze toward Chilbok. More specifically, he looked at the tray Chilbok was carrying.
“Isn’t it too heavy? I can carry at least one bowl…”
On the tray were a large bowl of porridge, dried radish greens soup, and a few salted side dishes. It wasn’t an immense weight, but seeing Chilbok carry it with his small hands made it look burdensome. Since it was technically Ho-eun’s luggage, he felt even more uneasy.
And for good reason—that steaming porridge was Dong-ja’s meal. Ho-eun had offered to carry it, but ever since the incident where he spilled the porridge, Chilbok refused to let him touch the tray. Instead, he always walked with him to the Medical Station.
“Ayu, it’s fine.”
Chilbok rejected him flatly. Ho-eun started to say more but stopped. He knew he couldn’t break the boy’s stubbornness. He felt sorry that Chilbok had to go through the trouble because of his own clumsiness, but since he couldn’t simply stop visiting the Medical Station, there was no other way.
Soon, Ho-eun entered the courtyard of the Medical Station. Over the past few days, the bloodstains that had pooled here and there in the yard had vanished, and the station had become considerably quieter. Those who had to leave had left, and those who survived had moved into the recovery phase.
“Dong-ja Noonim, I’m here.”
Ho-eun bowed his head in greeting to Dong-ja, who was sitting on the wooden porch.
“Oh, the young master is here?”
Dong-ja welcomed Ho-eun more brightly than before. However, her face looked worse. She was gaunt, withered, and haggard. It was the face of someone who had failed to overcome misfortune and depression and had instead adapted to them.
“Please eat, Noonim.”
Chilbok placed the porridge in front of her.
“Oh, Chilbok, you came too. Why did you bring this again…”
Dong-ja welcomed Chilbok, but not the food. Noticing the dullness in her eyes, Chilbok pushed the tray further toward her.
“Just eat it. I, uh, I even stirred a precious egg into the porridge.”
Though he didn’t make a big show of it, Chilbok was worried about Dong-ja. Despite their bickering, they were two people who had been together for a long time.
Dong-ja stared at Chilbok—at this boy who was strong and resilient, yet still hadn’t shed the traces of childhood. To think this brat had cooked porridge with an egg just because he was worried about her; no matter how distracted she was by her concern for Man-soo, she couldn’t ignore such sincerity.
“You put an egg in it?”
Speaking in a deliberately higher tone, she shifted her hips and sat before the tray. Seeing this, the expressions of Ho-eun and Chilbok brightened visibly. They hoped that Dong-ja would finally take a spoonful of food.
“Dong-ja! Dong-ja!”
The moment she picked up the spoon, the old man shouted from inside the room.
“What!”
Dong-ja practically threw the spoon aside and dashed into the room. Her movement was faster than any he had seen before. It was like a hawk taking flight.
Startled, Ho-eun and Chilbok also poked their heads into the room. And there—Man-soo was awake. It was the first time. Since his return, he had suffered seizures, but he had never once regained consciousness.
“…Man-soo?”
Dong-ja called his name as if she couldn’t believe it. Then, she collapsed onto the floor as if her strength had vanished. “Man-soo…” She called his name repeatedly, crawling toward him.
“Ma-Man-soo, can you see me? Do you know who I am? Huh?”
“…”
Man-soo did not answer. With a face as pale as if coated in rice powder, he merely stared blankly at the ceiling. At this, Dong-ja repeatedly stroked Man-soo’s forehead and cheeks with trembling hands.
“Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you hear me? Or are you in pain? Huh? Or are you hungry? What should I do? What can I do for you? Hmm?”
“…”
At her desperate plea, Man-soo’s gaze finally drifted toward Dong-ja. After staring blankly for a moment, his dry lips twitched. However, lips that had remained sealed for days did not part easily. The old man beside them carefully pressed his lips with a damp cloth. Finally, Man-soo let out a word.
“Dong… ja.”
“Yes, yes. I’m here. I’m right here.”
Even as she answered, Dong-ja continued to touch Man-soo. She seemed terrified that he, lying there like a corpse without a single movement, might suddenly vanish. Man-soo looked up at her quietly and asked in a hoarse voice.
“Haven’t you eaten?”
“…What?”
“You’ve lost so much weight. Eat. Eat some food.”
“…”
At those words, the dry, stiff corners of Dong-ja’s eyes slowly crumpled. Then, in an instant, they became damp. Tears, like belated snowflakes, fell from her eyes.
“Ma-Man-soo… hic, Man-soo…”
She buried her face in Man-soo’s chest. Man-soo instinctively tried to lift his arm—the arm that no longer existed—and upon realizing its absence, he raised his other hand to gently rub Dong-ja’s back.
“Aigoo, your back is all skin and bones. Stop crying and eat.”
“I can’t swallow food because you’re gone—waah…”
“Why am I gone? I’m right here. Eat. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll stay right here, so eat.”
Man-soo patted Dong-ja’s back. This only made her sobbing louder. It almost sounded like screaming now. She kicked her feet against the floor and shook her head from side to side.
Ho-eun thought she looked just like a child.
Of course, Dong-ja acted childishly from time to time, but she was still an adult and a reliable pillar of the Crimson Rain Brigade. Seeing her cry like a child made his heart ache. It was because he could see how immense Man-soo’s presence was to her. The raw emotion transferred to him, bringing tears to his own eyes.
“Thank goodness… truly… thank goodness…”
As Ho-eun murmured with a strange expression, a mix of tears and a smile, someone pulled his hand. Chilbok, standing a step behind, was tugging firmly on his hand. Ho-eun was puzzled for a moment, but soon realized his intention and smiled.
“Right. It would be best to give them some space.”
The two quietly left. The porridge they had warmed up was cooling down, but they didn’t mind. Because they knew Dong-ja would soon be looking for food.
“…”
A mouthful of rice, as large as Ho-eun’s fist, went sliding down Dong-ja’s throat. The way she ate without leaving a single grain of rice on her lips was beyond surprising; it was almost frightening. Tae-muk had once remarked while watching her eat that she was ‘like a Devouring Ghoul.’ Rudely enough, Ho-eun felt he could now understand that.
“Please, eat slowly.”
“Ung.”
Dong-ja and Ho-eun were sitting on a wooden platform in front of the thatched house used as a kitchen by the cooks. Man-soo, who had woken up, had fallen back asleep, and Ho-eun had been helping Chilbok in the kitchen when Dong-ja came by saying she was hungry.
Having received her meal, Dong-ja wielded her spoon as ruthlessly as she once wielded her spear to kill Devouring Ghouls. Every time she moved the spoon, the side dishes and rice were decimated without distinction.
Ho-eun was occasionally startled, but mostly he watched her with a pleased expression. Seeing her eat made him feel as though the daily routine, which had been displaced, was finally returning to its proper place.
“Chilbok said he seasoned this this morning. Please try some.”
Ho-eun cleared an empty side dish bowl and pushed a plate of seasoned vegetables toward her. Dong-ja, her mouth full of rice, responded with a muffled, humming sound, and with a single movement of her chopsticks, she swept all the vegetables off the plate. Then, she swallowed them after barely chewing.
“It’s tasty, tasty.”
“…”
Ho-eun stared blankly at the instantly empty plate. He couldn’t believe it even though he saw it with his own eyes. Just as Tae-muk had keen hearing and sight, Dong-ja surely possessed a supernatural ability to devour food.
While Ho-eun remained unable to take his eyes off the empty plate, Dong-ja—who was now munching on a dried yellow croaker sent from Ho-eun’s home, chewing it bones and all—asked a question long after the fact.
“Did the young master eat?”
“Ah, yes. I did.”
“Aren’t you just saying that after eating a mouse-droppings amount again?”
“No, I ate together with the General.”
“Ah, then you must have eaten more than a mouse-dropping.”
“Yes. I did.”
Ho-eun smiled softly, his mouth slightly open. He felt a bit embarrassed that everyone in the brigade seemed to know about Tae-muk’s fussiness, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It made him realize that Tae-muk’s affection was so large and clear that anyone could see it.
“What about the Captain? Did he go out again?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Did a swarm of Eater Bugs show up or something?”
“No, not that… I think he has a lot on his mind because of this incident.”
“Mmm, really?”
Dong-ja asked, but she seemed to have little interest, focusing entirely on her meal.
The rice bowl was emptied, and then emptied again. By the time four empty bowls had piled up, Chilbok set down a fresh bowl of steaming rice with a thud. He then sniffed once and returned to the kitchen without a word.