HEO 92

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Only then did the two of them slow down, as if by unspoken agreement. Wolf stole a glance. Silver’s face was hidden beneath the hood of his robe. He hesitated for a moment, but soon pushed the feeling aside.

Push through. Unexpected trials foster solidarity.

“About what I said earlier.”

Wolf spoke lightly, nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather.

“You dug out fish guts from the drainage ditch with your bare hands. You were very diligent. Even if you’re running away like this now.”

Silence.

“I think you know how the world works. Much more extensively than I do. You avoid the dishwashing, but you perform the labor of bailing water perfectly. Should I say you’re good at selection and focus?”

Silence.

“But you said you were going to bury me in the ground, right? Why? Is it because you don’t like the way I talk?”

Silence. Say something, you jerk!

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? I was just speaking comfortably to try and get close to you. ……By the way, you stopped by the dormitory last night when I was sick before leaving, right? It was pouring rain; where did you stay—?”

“Shut up.”

Silver cut him off.

“One more word, and I’ll shove your head into the ground first.”

“Alright. So you just hate the sound of my voice.”

Wolf quickly backed off, waving both hands. Operation failed. He was a fool to expect solidarity from a petty fellow who wouldn’t even show understanding for a sick man’s fragile state of mind.

The hill drew closer. Houses with crooked roofs lined both sides of the road. From every house, the scent of burning Narcotic Herbs wafted through the windows. From afar, the cries of seagulls flew through the dark clouds.

Once they crossed that hill and walked about a hundred paces, they would arrive at the recruits’ dormitory. And at the foot of the hill, there was a fork in the road. In Wolf’s mind, his grey matter rotated coldly. He had to speak again. He had to catch Silver before he left in a different direction from the dormitory at that fork.

Do it, even if you hate it.

“I know well that you hate hearing my voice,” Wolf said quietly. “But I have to say this. Thanks for earlier.”

Silver’s pace slowed. Almost imperceptibly. It was close to a momentary hesitation, perhaps caused by the slippery mud.

The hood of the robe turned toward Wolf before returning to its original position.

“For what.”

“You came back to the dormitory because you were worried about me. And then you had the misfortune of running into the seniors. Right?”

A snort escaped from beneath the hood.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’ve got the order wrong. I had the misfortune of catching the seniors’ eyes, and I was dragged back to the dormitory by those bastards.”

I know that much.

“Really? I find that hard to believe! Anyway, you’re sleeping at the dormitory today, right? If you’re already staying somewhere else—”

Silver didn’t respond. Wolf also stopped talking and looked ahead. Thirty-some paces until the fork.

Adjust speed here. I’ve done enough, so I’ll back off. There’s plenty of time ahead.

The drizzle thickened. A fishy scent of seaweed wafted from the rain streaks that were growing heavier. Suddenly, a memory flashed. The scent of irises. That fragrance that had poured into the room like a blizzard along with the sound of a door opening.

For a moment, Wolf paused. It’s autumn now, isn’t it? But irises bloom between spring and early summer.

Could he have come back wearing iris perfume? A guy who rolls around haphazardly in a dormitory that looks like a shipwreck, wearing perfume…?

It seemed his sense of smell had briefly gone haywire due to the fever. That could happen. Moreover, not a speck of iris scent wafted from Silver now. As expected, it had been a delusion caused by the fever.

In the meantime, they reached the fork. Unexpectedly, Silver trudged up the hill toward the dormitory. Wolf was actually surprised by this. He hates my voice, yet he’s willing to share a dormitory?

He couldn’t tell what Silver was thinking. The possibility seemed slim, but perhaps he had developed some sense of solidarity and was just acting indifferent because last night was awkward? Damn, he didn’t know. For now, he would keep a moderate distance and observe.

Below the slope, the recruits’ dormitory appeared small. It was a shabby house leaning slightly to the left. Strictly speaking, it was a wooden box shaped like a house. If there was one thing to praise, it was that the windows were somehow still intact.

Wolf and Silver descended the hill in silence. Silver’s footsteps were light and precise. It was the gait characteristic of someone accustomed to dangerous deeds.

As soon as they entered the dormitory, Wolf went straight to the brazier. Silver took off his robe, threw it on the floor, and sat on the bed.

“Ugh, it’s cold.”

Wolf loosened the leather strap fixed at the back of his head. The human-skin mask came off his face with a snap.

“Now I feel refreshed.”

Wolf glanced at Silver.

“Aren’t you taking off your mask?”

Without a word, Silver pulled the blanket up to his waist. Wolf tossed the human-skin mask aside.

“You know, I used to never be grateful for dry clothes. But now, I long for dry clothes the way people long for their ideal type.”

Silver remained silent, leaning his back against the wall. Wolf reached his hands toward the fire of the brazier. The light cast deep shadows on the defined lines of his abdominals and the thick veins wrapping around his forearms.

“Are you really not taking it off? Isn’t it stifling?”

Indeed, Silver’s mask revealed only the eyes and mouth. No skin was visible except for the eyelids and the philtrum. Compared to Wolf’s human-skin mask, the other was a keyhole, while this one was a wide-open window.

It was then that Wolf realized. Truly suddenly, as if the surface of water ripples only when a stone hits it. Silver had never once taken off his mask. Not on the warship, not on the beach, not in the kitchen, and not even when they walked and ran together in the rain. All that had been captured in Wolf’s sight were a pair of pupils and lips with a split end.

Wolf blinked and ran his palm long across his shoulder. The warmth of the brazier gradually drove away the chill that had seized his body. This thawing revived an useless emotion he had forgotten for a long time. A wretched curiosity similar to the engineering observation desire that used to surge violently in his teens whenever he saw a pocket watch or a music box.

He wanted to take off Silver’s mask. He wanted to examine the face hidden beneath it closely with his own eyes.

“I get it! You’re really handsome, aren’t you? You’re not taking off the mask because you’re afraid of being summoned to the Commander’s room, right?”

He raised his tone slightly to sound frivolous. This time, too, Silver did not react. He was like a wagon wheel buried in the mire, not budging an inch.

“Feel free to take it off. It’s safe here. Why would the Commander barge into a shabby recruits’ dormitory like this?”

Wolf tapped his own cheek with his fingertips.

“See, I took mine off too. Even I, who was recognized as top-grade by the seniors.”

Still silence. Wolf stopped throwing words out and shut his mouth. Suddenly, a taut tension descended. His nerves became so sharp that the monotonous sound of the rain flowing from outside sounded like a rumble of the earth.

This tension was definitely induced by Silver. The more he locked eyes with those pale blue pupils, the more a strange feeling washed over him. Looking back, it had been that way since their eyes first met on the ship. There was something about Silver. Something like a torch that attracts moths. Something that set a person’s nerves on edge without even swinging a dagger. Something that led one to obsessively be conscious of Silver himself. Like a centripetal force.

Is this the ‘charisma’ my father talked about, or something like that?

Bronze-beaked Hawk had once mentioned in passing: Charisma is a quite useful weapon for a king. It pushes fools to march to their graves voluntarily.

In the next moment, all of Wolf’s thoughts stopped. Silver’s hand moved. Toward the leather strap fixed at the back of his head. It was a motion that neither hesitated nor hurried. There was a sound similar to peeling a tightly wound bandage from the skin. The mask fell onto the blanket.

Wolf’s entire body turned cold.

The face Silver had hidden beneath the mask.

It was a ruin.

His entire face was covered in burns. Some parts were tight and glossy, while others were bumpy and rough. It looked as if half-hardened iron grease had been smeared all over his face. One side of his mouth was pulled toward his ear. The tattoo around one eye was also distorted, looking as if charcoal powder had been rubbed on haphazardly. Only the pupils, without a single scratch, shone faintly amidst the ruins.

Wolf could not find the words to say. Even after enough time had passed for half a candle to burn down.

Silver tilted his head slightly.

“Are you satisfied now?”

It was a voice barely suppressing a burst of laughter.

“Am I not quite handsome? Tell me your impressions.”

Finally, his sanity returned. Wolf quickly urged himself. Say something, you brat. There are plenty of things to throw out in a situation like this.

Plenty? Why can’t I think of a single thing?

“Finally, it’s quiet. You noisy woodpecker.”

Silver added as he lay down, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Go to sleep.”

Wolf stood before the brazier for a long time. A draft crawled through the gap under the door and wrapped around his ankles.

Only after enough time had passed for the candle to melt halfway did he head toward the bed. The wooden floor creaked with every step. After spending a long time sitting on the edge of the bed, he lay down beside Silver. The bed was narrow, so his shoulder touched Silver, who was covered in the blanket.

Wolf stared at the ceiling. The light of the brazier flickered like a ghost.

Sleep would not come. The thoughts would not leave him.

So that’s why he hid it.

Silver’s face explained many things. Especially his personality.

To him, who had ruins engraved on his face, every human gaze must be a blade. Every whisper must sound like a sneer. He must always feel as if he is being judged. Wolf knew that feeling a little. Even if his own burden was infinitely lighter compared to Silver’s.

For absurd superhuman strength and a disastrous face to be paired together. A life of being despised despite possessing strong martial power. What is a life like that?

That’s enough. Stop here.

Wolf frowned and closed his eyes. What are you doing? Are you some Atania monk handing out cheap sympathy?

To drive the darkness out of a room, one must light a candle. Wolf quickly scanned the warehouse of his mind. The candle he chose to drive out the thoughts of Silver was the memory of a certain celebration party.

It was about two years ago, after his father, Bronze-beaked Hawk, had personally dove into enemy territory with only thirty warriors, including Wolf, and achieved victory. As a reward to the warriors under his command, Bronze-beaked Hawk had called in prostitutes and male courtesans from a brothel to throw a debauched orgy. At that time, Wolf had only watched. Unlike his rookie days when he first entered Stohl, he watched with an extremely emotionless gaze.

Skin glistening under the lamps. Squelching sounds of friction. Intense moans. Some prostitutes or male courtesans had two or three warriors attached to them at once. Thick droplets of sweat flowed down firm thighs, leaving small stains on the wooden floor. The scent of alcohol, oils, hallucination herb smoke, sweat, and body odor hung heavily in the tent.

Even as sleep gradually washed over him, Wolf felt puzzled. Has the memory been beautified? Why does that orgy scene, where I actually fought back yawns, feel erotic now?

He could no longer string thoughts together. Darkness descended.

93 – Hell’s Execution Order