By Zephyria 
As he did so, Ho-eun asked, leaning his cheek against Tae-muk’s chest.
“Did you kill all the Devouring Ghouls?”
“I wonder.”
“Are you going out again today?”
“……I wonder.”
Tae-muk’s eyelids blinked slowly. Ho-eun gazed up at him blankly. Between Tae-muk’s eyelashes, sorrow, grief, guilt, and anger hung heavily. Observing them one by one, Ho-eun tightened his arms around Tae-muk.
“If you want to go, then do so. But you must stay with me until the sun rises. Like this.”
“……Alright.”
Tae-muk stroked the back of Ho-eun’s small head. Then, he slowly moved his hand down to stroke the long braided hair, finally feeling the fine silk hair tie slip through his fingers. Tae-muk loved touching Ho-eun like this.
Ho-eun also loved being stroked by Tae-muk. Being loved, being cherished, was always a joyful thing. Breathing languidly, Ho-eun fumbled to find and grasp Tae-muk’s hand. He felt a smooth hand without a single scar. However, he knew that this hand had been worn and torn more than anyone else’s.
Ho-eun diligently stroked, touched, and rubbed that hand, hoping that Tae-muk’s pain would diminish.
Suddenly, however, Tae-muk’s chest, which he had been leaning on, puffed up as if air had been pumped into it. Before a startled Ho-eun could look up, his hand was snatched away.
“What is this on your hand?”
Belatedly, Ho-eun remembered that he had burned the back of his hand. Because he felt no pain, he had completely forgotten about it.
“I spilled some porridge while eating,” Ho-eun replied in a nonchalant voice. There were various circumstances, but he dismissed it with that explanation. He feared Tae-muk would worry if he knew Dong-ja couldn’t eat. However, Tae-muk’s expression twisted completely.
“Porridge? Eating porridge?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck, there are so many ways to get hurt.”
Tae-muk gritted his teeth. A burn, on this precious hand, this beautiful hand. His head, already hot, grew hotter with anger and irritation. He pulled the thin hand right up to his nose and obsessively examined the burn.
“It’s all because of the General. Because the General wouldn’t eat with me, that’s why I spilled it.”
Ho-eun grumbled, tapping his heels against the wooden floor. He was acting spoiled, telling him to stop going out and stay by his side because he was so lonely and struggling. He also hoped that Tae-muk would feel sorry.
“So…”
Ho-eun was about to say more when he suddenly snapped back to his senses. What was he saying? What was he saying to a man who carried the lives of eighty people on his shoulders? Holding his breath for a moment, he sprang up. Then, he hugged Tae-muk’s neck tightly and apologized.
“No, it’s not that. It’s not because of the General. I made a mistake. It’s my fault.”
Ho-eun repeatedly pulled Tae-muk closer and readjusted his embrace. He put all his strength into his arms as if he would never let go. He looked exactly like a frightened squirrel.
In truth, Ho-eun was afraid. Afraid that Tae-muk might be hurt. Afraid that he had inflicted another wound upon a heart that was already tattered.
“…….”
Tae-muk said nothing. Then, with a faint smile, he patted Ho-eun’s small back. He found it incredibly lovely that Ho-eun was so anxious, worrying that such a petty grudge would hurt him.
“It’s okay. It’s fine, so let me see your hand.”
“…….”
“Hurry.”
At Tae-muk’s urging, Ho-eun slid back down to sit between his legs. Then, he obediently held out his hand. Tae-muk examined the hand thoroughly, let out a deep sigh, and stood up. Or rather, he tried to.
“Let’s apply some medicine.”
But Ho-eun shook his head vigorously and clung to Tae-muk’s neck.
“Later. Not now, later.”
“Ho-eun.”
“Not now. Right now, I just want to be held.”
“…….”
Forced to sit back down, Tae-muk supported Ho-eun’s bottom as he clung to him. Tae-muk continued to examine Ho-eun’s hand, then suddenly rummaged inside his military coat. He pulled out something white and square.
It was a handkerchief. The handkerchief on which Ho-eun’s mother had embroidered pink azaleas on every corner. Seeing it, Ho-eun’s eyes widened.
“You… have been carrying that?”
“Yeah.”
Tae-muk answered shortly and wrapped the handkerchief around the back of Ho-eun’s hand. The cold air was quite harsh; he worried if it would make the wound sting or cause it to fester. Ho-eun’s skin was so, so fragile that even the wind could scratch it.
Tae-muk tied the handkerchief carefully, his brow furrowed. Ho-eun stared at him intently. However, Tae-muk interpreted that gaze in his own way and spoke as if defending something he hadn’t been asked about.
“I didn’t wipe blood with it. Only water. You said this was a fragile flower.”
As he spoke, he lightly—no, softly—touched the azaleas embroidered on the corner of the handkerchief.
“…….”
At those words, Ho-eun’s eyes grew hot with tears. In truth, the handkerchief was spotless. It had creases from being folded neatly, and not a single thread of the embroidery had come loose. It meant that Tae-muk had handled the handkerchief with great care.
It was just embroidery, yet the fact that he remembered what Ho-eun had said and handled it so carefully made him feel grateful and pained at the same time.
How did a man who cherished even the flowers on a handkerchief end up spending so much time on such a cruel and blood-soaked battlefield? How did he become a general responsible for so many lives?
“General… how did you become a general?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You couldn’t have been a general from the beginning.”
Only now did he become curious. In truth, he had been curious for a long time, but he had only now found the courage to ask. No, he had to know now.
Since he was the Bondmate granted to him by heaven, he could heal any wound on Tae-muk’s body, but he could not heal the wounds in his heart. He felt that if he knew about his past, he could at least comfort and embrace him.
“…….”
Tae-muk could not answer easily. So, Ho-eun looked him steadily in the eye and whispered.
“I want to know. The moment the General first stepped onto the battlefield.”
“…….”
“No, from the time you had to step onto it.”
“…….”
Having finished tying the knot of the handkerchief, Tae-muk straightened his bent waist. His face looked quite dark. He seemed irritated, or perhaps in pain, and… strangely, he looked almost afraid. At this, Ho-eun placed his hand on the back of Tae-muk’s hand to soothe him.
“Do you not want to talk about it? Then it’s okay if you don’t.”
“Well, it’s not that grand of a story…”
Tae-muk turned his head toward the far end of the yard. His eyes were clouded. It was because he was looking at the past, not the present.
“…….”
Ho-eun waited silently for Tae-muk. For a long time, Tae-muk ruminated and retraced his thoughts, and only after swallowing hard did he finally speak.
“Even if I talk until sunrise, I won’t be able to finish. It’s long.”
“That’s great. Then I can hold the General for longer.”
Ho-eun hugged Tae-muk firmly, as if to show off. At that, Tae-muk let out a dry laugh and hugged Ho-eun back.
“Right. I can hold you for longer.”
Tae-muk slowly breathed in Ho-eun’s scent and began a story that was neither grand nor special, but very long.
In the Blood-Stained Waters of the Past
That day, the snow fell exceptionally heavily, and the cold was exceptionally fierce. It was so cold that cheeks cracked and the tips of noses froze, making it impossible to laugh or cry. If one frowned, it felt as if the eyes, nose, and mouth would simply crumble away.
Tae-muk, who had just turned eight, was struggling with his underdeveloped body to move hay. It was fodder for the horses.
Feeding the horses was the most important of the countless tasks Tae-muk performed. This was because Lord Dae-gam, the owner of the house and the horses, cherished the horses like his own children. He gave them different fodder for each season and even added salt to their water, raising them with utmost devotion.
Of course, the “devotion” Lord Dae-gam provided was merely the devotion of supervision; in reality, Tae-muk was the one doing all the raising, but regardless, that was the case.
“I’m here.”
As Tae-muk entered the stable clutching a full armful of hay, the horses standing in a row neighed loudly. Some tossed their heads or snorted.
“I know. You’re hungry, right? Just wait a moment.”
Tae-muk talked to himself as he approached the feeding troughs. Standing on tiptoe, he placed the hay inside and generously sprinkled feed mixed with beans and barley. The horses immediately plunged their faces into the troughs as if they had been waiting.
Tae-muk watched the horses with a proud expression. Then, he suddenly remembered and ran to a nearby water bucket. Sure enough, the water bucket he had filled in the morning had frozen over.
“It’s all frozen…”
Sniffling, Tae-muk habitually brought over a rake. He held it upside down and stabbed the ice repeatedly. Fortunately, only the surface had frozen; the ice broke, and water bubbled up.
With his lips pursed, Tae-muk shattered even the ice clinging to the edges of the bucket. His hands were completely chapped, turning white and red.
It was then.
“What are you doing?”
A young, clear voice sounded from behind him. Tae-muk stiffened. He did not turn around immediately; after taking several deep breaths, he slowly turned. There stood…
“……Young Master.”
The Young Master was standing there. Born around the same time as Tae-muk, but with nothing in common except for their age.