By Zephyria 
100
“……Pardon?”
“I said they’re all dead. Gone, so.”
“…….”
Ho-eun blinked his eyelids repeatedly. The indifferent statement was simply unbelievable. It made no sense that all the Devouring Ghouls had been killed.
“It’s difficult to tell whether you’re…… joking or speaking seriously.”
Ho-eun spoke with an unnecessarily grave face. In response, Tae-muk looked at Ho-eun, quirking one side of his lips up and down. Then, without warning, he spurred his horse’s flank to increase its speed.
“Ah, General, General!”
Ho-eun chased after him with a flustered expression. And after galloping straight down a main road like that, they turned a corner that bent to the right, when.
“Ah…….”
The street that appeared felt somehow familiar. Ho-eun pulled on the reins to slow his pace. As he did, he looked left, then right. That place was definitely, well, seemingly the road to the shelter, but he couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t that he was poor with directions, or that it was night then and daytime now.
The slope that led to the shelter…… was gone.
Was this not the place? Was it just a location similar to that one? Yes, that must be it. There’s no way the slope—no, the mountain—that was there could have vanished overnight.
Just then, something caught his eye.
[Ramjae Town Eastern Shelter]
The shelter signpost was smashed upside down. That meant this was indeed that slope that led to the shelter.
Ho-eun looked around again. The soil that formed the slope was scattered all around, uprooted trees lay fallen, and building debris was chaotically mixed with the earth. It looked as if someone had made bibimbap out of the town.
“The shelter…… has disappeared.”
To Ho-eun’s muttered words, tinged with confusion.
“So it seems.”
Tae-muk replied as if it were someone else’s affair. Ho-eun’s eyes widened roundly at that.
“Was it not done by you, General?”
“What?”
“This slope, that is, the shelter…… Was it not you, General, who destroyed it?”
“Why would I?”
“That is…….”
Because the nobles in the shelter were truly vile people. Perhaps beasts worse than Devouring Ghouls. People who deserved divine punishment. So he had hoped Tae-muk would punish them.
But it wasn’t Tae-muk’s doing. Judging by his reaction, he didn’t even seem to know what had happened at this shelter.
Then why, how had this place collapsed so utterly?
It had rained heavily, but had it rained enough to cause a landslide? Moreover, this slope wasn’t just a mountain made of ordinary soil. It was a solid, sturdy slope that people had climbed, trodden upon, and built houses to live on for decades, centuries.
“I don’t understand why it collapsed so suddenly……. Although a downpour fell, it didn’t seem enough to make a mountain collapse. If it wasn’t you, General…… could it have been the Devouring Ghouls?”
Wanting to devour the people hiding in the shelter but unable to enter, did they try to dig away the mountain itself? And in the process, were they swept away by the rain, causing a landslide? With Ho-eun’s limited knowledge, that was the only inference he could make. But then.
“It seems the mountain wasn’t just holding rainwater.”
Tae-muk said, looking at the collapsed slope. His gaze was extremely dry and bleak.
“……Pardon?”
At the cryptic words, Ho-eun blinked rapidly. Then, following Tae-muk’s gaze, he turned his head. There, something unidentifiable as rock or soil lay in clumps, its color intensely blackish-brown. A color completely different from the usual soil.
Why is the color like that……, Ho-eun thought, then gasped, drawing in a sharp breath.
“Blood…….”
Blood. It was that color because it was saturated with blood. Yes, the slope was soaked through with blood. Every step had been stained with blood. Pools of bloody water were collected here and there, damp like mud, sometimes crunching underfoot.
Only then could Ho-eun understand why the slope had collapsed.
The slope, which had continued to absorb blood ever since the Devouring Ghouls attacked, couldn’t withstand the rain and gave way.
In the end, it meant the blood—the blood of the hundreds who couldn’t enter the shelter—had brought down this mountain.
A strange feeling arose.
It felt satisfying, thinking the dead had exacted their own revenge. It was still sorrowful, regretting those lost lives. And the ultimately bitter result that no one survived. No, were they really all dead? Did all those noblemen he met through the small window die?
“There were people in the shelter. About seventy. What happened to them?”
Ho-eun asked Tae-muk. Tae-muk raised one eyebrow and stared at Ho-eun.
“Is that important?”
“…….”
Somehow chilled by the reply, Ho-eun swallowed dryly. Tae-muk didn’t seem to regret or pity the deaths of those seventy. Of course, he also showed no sign of guilt for failing to save them.
Why such a reaction? Tae-muk wouldn’t know what kind of people were inside the shelter.
As Ho-eun stared fixedly at Tae-muk, Tae-muk spurred his horse’s flank and began moving again. Ho-eun’s horse automatically followed him.
Ho-eun was thinking about something until the remnants of the slope completely disappeared from view. His face darkened, then paled, then darkened again. Then, just as they were about to enter the path leading to the hospital. He asked toward Tae-muk’s retreating back.
“There was a reason you told me to wear silk clothes instead of a military uniform, right?”
“…….”
“You knew…… something like this would happen, didn’t you?”
A subtle dampness tinged Ho-eun’s voice. He wasn’t feeling very good. Something kept feeling pitiful, gloomy, and depressing. Just then, Tae-muk glanced back at Ho-eun. Then, turning his head forward again, he answered in his still-dry tone.
“Eight out of ten shelters are filled with nobles.”
“……Pardon?”
“Other towns are the same.”
At those words, Ho-eun spurred his horse’s flank to match Tae-muk’s pace.
“So, in case I might need to enter a shelter, since I’d need to be a noble to get in, you deliberately had me wear those clothes?”
Everyone else wore practical military uniforms, so why was he alone told to wear hanbok—with its billowing sleeves, numerous layers required, and fluttering skirts—he had thought it was because whatever he wore wouldn’t be of help anyway. But that wasn’t it.
Tae-muk wanted him here not as a Crimson Rain Brigade soldier, not as his Bondmate, but as a noble. So that he could use that privilege to easily preserve his life.
That decision felt a little unfair and sad. But in the end, looking back, it was the right judgment, so he couldn’t even complain.
Truly, Ho-eun had enjoyed many privileges here as a noble.
The doctor he met at the hospital had looked at his attire first. Thanks to that, Jeong-woo received treatment without delay. When he was ransacking the hospital looking for Jeong-i’s whereabouts, everyone gave bothersome replies until they saw his clothing, after which they gave quite sincere answers. Finally, at the shelter, they said they would accept only him, a noble, not Seong-im, a woman, nor Jeong-woo, a child.
Remembering those events made his chest feel heavy and tight. Even though he had done nothing wrong, he also felt ashamed. As he lowered his eyes and bit his lower lip.
“Well, it’d be a bit troublesome for me if you died.”
Tae-muk said glibly. A statement in line with, I need you. If he’d heard it at another time, he would have been happy. But now, he wasn’t happy at all.
Whenever Tae-muk habitually said things like nobles are, because they’re nobles, since they’re nobles, Ho-eun had wondered why he said such things. Now he vaguely understood. Simultaneously, he felt like hiding somewhere.
Ho-eun rubbed the reins with his fingernails and spoke gloomily.
“I’m curious what nobles represent to you, General, but I cannot ask.”
“Why.”
“Because I’m afraid to hear the answer.”
“Why.”
“Pardon?”
At the repeatedly asked question, Ho-eun looked at him. Thinking he hadn’t heard his answer, but Tae-muk was also looking at Ho-eun.
“I said why are you afraid.”
“That’s because…….”
Because I, too, am a noble. Because, anyway, I am the same as them. Ho-eun couldn’t bring himself to utter those words aloud, only mumbling with his lips. He had never been proud of being a noble, but he had never been ashamed of it either. This feeling was a first, so he didn’t know what to do about it.
At such a Ho-eun, Tae-muk’s eyes grew somber.
“Are you the same as them?”
“…….”
“Have you ever done what they did?”
“…….”
Ho-eun was about to deny it immediately. But he slowly closed his mouth, then opened it again. His eyelashes drooped powerlessly.
“I wonder. I’m not certain. I’m afraid I might have done so without even knowing.”
For Ho-eun, it was a statement made out of distress. It was also a statement made with great courage. Tae-muk could have gotten angry, saying, So you were that kind of noble too. But instead, Tae-muk let out a pfft, a deflating sound, and laughed.
“Those who’ve done such things, they show it.”
“Show it?”
“Yes. They give off a very foul stench.”
“Stench…….”
Stench. Meaning they smell. Ho-eun repeated Tae-muk’s words with a serious expression. Then he cautiously asked.
“……By any chance, is it not just hearing that you excel at, General, but also smelling?”
It was understandable, as Ho-eun had never experienced smelling a stench from other nobles. Of course, he had noticed sweat odor, or occasionally somewhat unpleasant body odor. But those weren’t smells at a level to be called ‘stench.’
But Tae-muk says bad nobles give off a stench. Had there not been a single bad noble among the nobles he’d met? But he hadn’t detected any particular smell from the nobles he met at the shelter yesterday either.
That meant either his nose was dull, or Tae-muk’s nose was exceptionally sharp; one of the two.
“…….”
Tae-muk stared fixedly at such a Ho-eun. His gaze held annoyance, irritation, and disbelief. Shaking his head as if to say, I simply can’t communicate with you, he urged his horse forward and went ahead.
“…….”
Ho-eun blankly watched Tae-muk’s retreating back like that. So. Does that mean I give off a stench too, or not? Why won’t he answer that?
Ho-eun hurriedly followed after Tae-muk, pressing his nose against his wrist and sniffing the scent.