By Zephyria 
At those words, Ho-eun had to bite his lower lip hard to keep from letting a laugh slip. He found it quite perplexing that Man-soo kept making jokes about his missing arm. Clearing his throat, he made an effort to change the subject.
“Where has Dong-ja Noonim gone?”
“Up there. They said they were short-handed, so she went to help. Our Dong-ja is the best when it comes to heavy lifting.”
Man-soo spoke while pointing toward the direction of Mount Baekdu, above the Amnok River.
“Yes, of course she is.”
Ho-eun nodded politely. He clearly remembered Dong-ja striking down a massive fir tree with her fist in the rain. She was likely the strongest person in the Crimson Rain Brigade after Tae-muk.
After that, the two of them continued to color the kites without much further conversation. As he did so, Ho-eun felt the cluttered thoughts in his head become considerably calmer. The spring breeze was a bit chilly, but not unbearable; the surroundings were quiet, save for the occasional voices of soldiers; and the kites being steadily filled with color felt quite peaceful. So peaceful that it was hard to believe they were on the verge of battle.
Perhaps sensing Ho-eun’s mood, Man-soo asked while pretending not to look at him.
“It’s fun once you get into it, isn’t it?”
Ho-eun gave a small nod.
“Yes. It seems to have a different kind of joy than drawing pictures.”
When he was in Hanyang, he had always stayed home. He had written texts following his father, painted following his mother, and had even tried embroidery, but this was a first. There was no need for it to be beautiful, there were no rules, and simply filling in the empty spaces was quite enjoyable.
“When your noggin is all cluttered, doing stuff like this is the best.”
“…I suppose so.”
Ho-eun laughed softly. It seemed Man-soo had come by on purpose to comfort him. He felt grateful that the man was looking after him, but at the same time, he felt sorry for causing him worry. He felt as though he had been a burden in various ways during such a critical time.
Swallowing a sigh, Ho-eun began to dye the kite again, step by step. Then, Man-soo called him once more.
“Young Master.”
“Yes, Hyung-nim.”
“Don’t worry too much.”
“Pardon?”
Startled by the sudden remark, Ho-eun looked at Man-soo. Man-soo, however, kept his gaze fixed on the kite, continuing to dab the dye on as he spoke.
“Even if a hundred thousand—no, a million Devouring Ghouls attack, the Captain will be fine.”
“….”
“And you’ll be fine too, Young Master.”
“….”
“Even if we all kick the bucket, the Captain and the Young Master will be safe—”
“How—how can you say such a thing! No. Please don’t say that.”
Shocked, Ho-eun shook his head so violently that his braided hair swayed. Kick the bucket. Such a horrific thing to say. As Ho-eun’s face turned pale, Man-soo chuckled, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Ayy, I didn’t mean it’ll actually happen, I just meant that’s how strong the Captain is. Well, as for you, Young Master, we’ll protect you.”
“….”
Protect him. It was a rather romantic sentiment, but on the battlefield, it wasn’t so romantic. It meant they would choose his life over their own. That was why he couldn’t bring himself to say thank you.
Ho-eun knew how many people had died or been injured in the fir forest to protect him. But did that make him think, ‘I should have been the one to die instead’? Not exactly.
It wasn’t because he was greedy for life, but because if he died… Tae-muk would be left alone. That was why.
He didn’t care if he died, but the thought of Tae-muk being left alone was dreadfully hated. Yet, he also hated the idea of others dying because of him… Nothing was easy.
With a gloomy expression, Ho-eun soaked the cloth in ink again. The cloth absorbed the black liquid and instantly became heavy, staining his fingertips black. It was then.
“Young Master.”
Man-soo called him again.
“Yes, Hyung-nim.”
Ho-eun answered in a lifeless voice.
“We believe the Captain will save the country, and he’ll save us too.”
“….”
Ho-eun assumed Man-soo was trying to comfort his depression—telling him that since Tae-muk was a great man, he didn’t need to worry. So, he replied with a smile.
“Yes. I believe so as well.”
But Man-soo met Ho-eun’s eyes and spoke seriously, his voice lower than before.
“No, really.”
“….”
“The Captain is a hero.”
“….”
Ho-eun slowly put down the cloth. A hero. It sounded like an exaggeration at first glance, but in truth, Tae-muk was indeed a hero. If he wasn’t a hero, who in this world could be?
Just as Ho-eun was about to nod without hesitation, Man-soo suddenly grinned.
“And the Young Master, who is the Captain’s Bondmate, is also a hero.”
“What? No, I—I’m nothing of the sort… That’s absurd.”
Flustered, Ho-eun shook his head. Although he had spent his whole life longing to be useful, he had never hoped to become a great hero like Tae-muk. How could he possibly dare? And even if he possessed power similar to Tae-muk’s, he likely wouldn’t have been able to live as he did.
However, Man-soo also shook his head.
“You say that because you don’t know how much stronger the Captain became thanks to you.”
“….”
“Of course, he was strong before, but he was a bit… uh, like a ghost, or a beast, or gloomy like someone who already had their death date set.”
“….”
“But after meeting you, he became much more solid, calm, and more human.”
“….”
At those words, Ho-eun gave a faint smile. He knew well what Tae-muk had been like before, having heard it from Tae-muk himself. He felt truly sorry for the man who had to live like a ghost or a beast.
“You have no idea how heartwarming and joyful it is for us to see the Captain these days, do you?”
“….”
“It’s all thanks to you.”
“….”
“To the Captain, you’ve become someone he cannot do without.”
“….”
“Of course, you’re an important person to us too. You’re pretty, kind, smart, and you’re even great at planning strategies, aren’t you?”
Man-soo held up the half-colored kite. Ho-eun laughed softly. To think he had become a useful person to Tae-muk and the Crimson Rain Brigade. He thought to himself that such a day had finally come in his life.
Then, Man-soo shifted his hips and sat close beside Ho-eun. He spoke with a face more solemn than ever before.
“So, Young Master.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t waver.”
“…Pardon?”
For a moment, Ho-eun felt his heart sink. At the same time, he felt embarrassed, as if his clothes had been stripped off. He felt as though his inner thoughts had been exposed. As his pupils trembled, unable to find their focus, Man-soo pressed down firmly on Ho-eun’s thigh as if telling him not to.
“If you waver, the Captain wavers too.”
“….”
“And if the Captain wavers, we waver as well.”
“….”
Ho-eun took a slow, sharp breath through his nose.
A wavering Tae-muk.
A wavering Crimson Rain Brigade.
Just thinking about it for a moment made his vision go dark. He knew he had to steady his heart, but ironically, he became even more anxious. If before he had simply been terrified, now the weight of responsibility was added to it.
Perhaps sensing that, Man-soo looked Ho-eun deeply in the eyes and said.
“In this battle, we will win.”
“….”
“We will win, no matter what.”
“….”
“Because we’ll fight until we win.”
“….”
Ho-eun gazed quietly at Man-soo’s face. Man-soo’s face was covered in scars, both large and small. It was almost a miracle that his eyes, nose, and mouth were still intact. Despite being so badly injured—and now having given one arm to a Devouring Ghoul—he was not afraid. Rather, he seemed to burn with an even stronger will than before.
“So don’t be anxious.”
“….”
Ho-eun’s eyelids blinked irregularly. Fight until they win. Come to think of it, Chilbok had said something similar. The Crimson Rain Brigade often loses battles, but that doesn’t mean the Brigade disappears.
Ho-eun stared at Man-soo for a while. Then, he nodded firmly.
“Yes. I will keep that in mind.”
He took a deep, deep breath to clear his mind.
I mustn’t be anxious. I mustn’t waver. I mustn’t be afraid. Because we—the Crimson Rain Brigade—will surely be victorious.
With those thoughts, he clamped his mouth shut and began to color the kite with vigor.
How much more time passed? Suddenly, Man-soo leaned over and whispered in Ho-eun’s ear.
“Heavens, look, look. The Captain is looking at you even now.”
At those words, Ho-eun looked down the mountain. Far away, Tae-muk, with his shovel thrust deep into the ground, was looking this way. The distance was so great that he wasn’t sure if the man was actually looking at them, but perhaps because Man-soo said so, he felt as if he really was.
Ho-eun blinked a few times, then slowly raised his hand above his head. When he waved it gently as a greeting, Tae-muk soon waved back.
Ho-eun’s eyebrows arched. Then again, while his own vision was blurry, Tae-muk had excellent eyesight, so he would be able to see them clearly.
…Then did he see me crouching here for a long time? Did he see me being foolishly anxious and restless?
Thinking that far, Ho-eun tightened his lips and waved his hand more energetically. Man-soo giggled.
“My, my, the Captain’s grin is splitting his face. He must find the Young Master so lovely he can’t stand it.”
“Can you see that?”
For a moment, Ho-eun wondered if Man-soo also had great eyesight. But Man-soo just shrugged and said.
“It’s obvious even without looking. Dong-ja is like that when she looks at me.”
Then he gave a sly smile, and the sight was so mischievous yet endearing that Ho-eun burst into laughter. “Yes. Dong-ja Noonim cherishes you very much, Hyung-nim,” he added.