By Zephyria 
At those words, Tae-muk’s breath seemed to cut off instantly. Meanwhile, his pupils trembled like a struck gong.
Perhaps sensing this, Ho-eun opened his eyes a bit wider, looked Tae-muk straight in the face, and spoke again in his characteristically serene voice.
“You told me that I am precious.”
“…….”
“To me, you are precious too, General.”
“…….”
“So please, do not be ill. Do not get hurt…….”
“…….”
Tae-muk did not answer. He couldn’t.
To say he loved him. To say he was precious. Tae-muk had often told Ho-eun that he was precious, that he liked him, but he had never once heard such words from the boy. Yet, it wasn’t that he had longed for them.
He could feel Ho-eun’s heart overflowing through his gaze, his words, and his actions.
However, hearing it spoken aloud like this made him realize that perhaps those things had been insufficient.
Ho-eun slowly pulled his hand out from under the blanket and sought out Tae-muk’s hand, grasping it. It was a loose grip, but he could fully feel his body heat and touch—and that miracle-like sensation that could only be exchanged between a God of War and a Bondmate.
“I love you, General. I love…… you…….”
Ho-eun stammered those words a few more times before falling fast asleep, as if losing consciousness.
“…….”
Tae-muk gazed silently at the sleeping Ho-eun’s face. Then, overcome by a sudden surge of emotion, he pulled the frail body into a tight embrace and buried his nose in the boy’s hair.
Ridiculously, he felt as if he might cry. He hadn’t shed a tear even when his body was torn apart countless times, yet a single sentence from Ho-eun made his eyes grow hot as if they were melting. It felt as though a ball of fire was lodged in his throat. His body kept trembling, but it wasn’t from the cold.
“…….”
Tae-muk held Ho-eun for a long time. As he did, he thought that this was the most fulfilling night of all the nights he had lived since birth. No other night could ever be more complete than this. In this moment, he felt greater and happier than any nobleman, and even more so than a king.
Therefore.
Even if he died.
He would have.
No regrets.
‘Young Master! They say the Devouring Ghouls are all dead!’
At Deok-woo’s loud shout, Ho-eun, who had been sitting on the porch stroking the yellow dog’s back, snapped his head up.
‘Really? The Devouring Ghouls?’
His eyes widened. All the Devouring Ghouls were dead? All those countless creatures? How? As he sat dazed by the unbelievable news, Deok-woo rushed over and began jumping up and down in place.
‘Yes! Every single one of them is dead! Let’s go outside! People are going wild!’
‘Uh……. No, I’m fine. You go on your own.’
Ho-eun shook his head. He didn’t know why. Normally, he would have welcomed going outside, but for some reason, he didn’t want to today. However, Deok-woo grabbed Ho-eun’s hand and pulled.
‘Aw, come on, let’s go! It’s a wonderful day.’
‘…….’
It was unusual. Deok-woo was one of the people who overprotected Ho-eun as much as his parents did; he was someone who always hurried to hide Ho-eun, fearing he might crumble if gripped or fly away if the wind blew.
Due to Deok-woo’s strong pull, Ho-eun crossed the yard in a blur and stepped past the main gate before he knew it. The yellow dog barked loudly at Ho-eun’s retreating back.
Once outside, it was just as Deok-woo had said—a sea of people. The streets were packed, and everyone was smiling brightly. They were rejoicing, cheering, and dancing while embracing one another.
Above the people, the sun shone brilliantly, and pink petals fluttered down like rain. The faces of those freed from worry and terror sparkled radiantly.
Seeing this, a smile bloomed on Ho-eun’s lips. It seemed the Devouring Ghouls really were all dead. As the reality sank in, an indescribable emotion welled up from deep within his chest. How should he put it?
Yes. Pride. It was pride.
Thinking that the days of hardship they had endured had accumulated and finally led to this day, he couldn’t help but feel proud.
As Ho-eun placed his hand gently over his heart—
‘Young Master! Let’s dance too!’
Deok-woo took Ho-eun’s hand and began to dance boisterously. The sight was so ridiculous that Ho-eun laughed with his mouth wide open.
It was then.
‘Young Master! Young Master! I’ve come.’
Someone tugged at Ho-eun’s sleeve. Turning his head, he saw Jeong-i standing there, wearing the hair tie Ho-eun had bought for him some time ago.
‘Jeong-i!’
Jeong-woo was beside him. Whether his injured leg had fully healed, seeing him standing tall was a wonderful sight.
‘Jeong-woo, you came too! Have you been well? Did anything happen?’
‘Nothin’ happened. The Devouring Ghouls are all dead, so how could anythin’ happen?’
‘Right. That’s true. The Devouring Ghouls are all dead.’
After that, they all danced together. Ho-eun was truly happy. He felt as if he had never experienced such joy in his entire life.
How long did they dance? At some point, Deok-woo disappeared. Then Jeong-i and Jeong-woo also vanished abruptly.
But Ho-eun was neither scared nor flustered. Like a small boat riding a wave, he simply continued to drift through the crowd.
It was then that his steps faltered—when he heard a certain sound of weeping.
Ho-eun thought absentmindedly that someone must be crying out of sheer joy. That they were weeping because peace had descended upon the world and they had regained their freedom.
But suddenly, the pungent smell of tobacco brushed the tip of his nose. Simultaneously, the weeping grew louder. It was a sorrowful and grieving cry.
‘…….’
Stopping dead in his tracks, Ho-eun looked in the direction of the weeping. Then, as if possessed, he began to walk toward it.
After walking for a while, Ho-eun arrived in front of an alley. Unlike other places, there were no crowds here. The smell of tobacco grew stronger, and after inhaling it a few times, he realized it wasn’t tobacco, but incense.
The scent of incense was so strong it felt as if it were piercing through his brain. Ho-eun frowned and tried to step back. However—
‘Aigoo…….’
‘How could this happen……. Aigoo…….’
The sounds of mourning reached him. After hesitating for a moment, Ho-eun stepped into the alley. Simultaneously, the cheers of the people outside the alley grew distantly far away.
The alley was long. Or was it short? Regardless, it felt very deep. It felt less like walking a path and more like descending downward. And the further he went, the more stagnant the air became. His vision grew hazy. It felt as if fog had settled only within this alley.
Around then, Ho-eun felt his heart beating strangely fast. As if he already knew what he was about to see. Perhaps because of that, his stomach churned and a headache flared. The smell of incense was so nauseating he felt as if he might vomit.
Finally, Ho-eun reached the end of the alley. There was a door there. It was a truly small and insignificant door. A door that should be described as a side door rather than a main gate.
‘…….’
Ho-eun stood still before it, as if rooted to the ground. As he stood there, he could hear the mourning from beyond the door and the cheers of the people behind his back. The feeling of standing on that boundary was strange.
Ho-eun did not move for a long time. It was because he did not want to enter the door. Yet, it wasn’t that he wanted to turn around and run away. So he just stood there, and then—
The door slowly grew larger and opened its maw wide like a Devouring Ghoul, swallowing Ho-eun whole.
‘Uh, uh…….’
Ho-eun staggered precariously. By the time he managed to regain his balance, he was surrounded by many people.
Unlike the people outside, the people inside the door were not smiling. They weren’t even crying. Or rather, they were crying, but it wasn’t visible. This was because everyone’s faces were pale, as if they were covered in white cloth.
Still, Ho-eun knew who the people there were. Gil-sang was weeping. Seong-im was shedding tears, Byeonguk stood with his head bowed like a sinner, and Chilbok and others were there as well.
They wailed and cried. Their bodies, shaken by grief, swayed as if dancing. It was a dance vastly different from the one the people outside were dancing.
With a vacant expression, Ho-eun pushed through them and walked forward. The smell of incense grew even thicker. Now, it felt as if his nose were stinging.
And finally, Ho-eun reached a funeral portrait.
‘…….’
The photo sat alone on an old wooden floor, without even an altar. There was no face in the photo. Only a faint silhouette of a person.
But Ho-eun knew it was his photo—that it was Tae-muk’s photo.
‘Why, why…….’
His breath caught in his throat.
How could Tae-muk die? He was the strongest God of War in the world. He was a man who didn’t die even if his body was torn apart. Why did he die? How did he die? Why did he have to die?
……What was I doing while he was dying?
Ho-eun reached out a trembling hand toward the funeral portrait, then collapsed, unable to bear the grief. The moment he realized that Tae-muk was dead, sorrow poured down like a torrential rain, crushing his entire body.
‘Ah……. Aaaaah…….’
Ho-eun writhed and wailed. It felt as if his heart were being ripped apart. It was a grief that felt as though his internal organs were twisting and his bones were crushing. With his forehead pressed against the ground, he clawed at the floor and shrieked. Then, unable to endure the agony in his chest, he began to tear at his solar plexus.
At that moment, someone released the Crimson Rain Brigade flag into the sky. The flag, soaked in blood with its corners torn, looked exactly like Tae-muk.
Perhaps that was why. Ho-eun felt as if he had to catch the flag. He felt that if he did, he could reverse his death.
‘No, no…….’
Springing up, Ho-eun reached his hand toward the flag.