The Future That Did Not Come
The White Dragon Unit withdrew swiftly.
The battle had been numerically unfavorable, and many were wounded.
They had won through sound strategy and overwhelming force, yet battle is always a matter of killing and being killed.
When the enemy dies, so do we.
Behind the joy of victory follows the sorrow for those who can no longer stand beside us.
They crossed the hills and ridges on the way back to Jinga Manor.
Summer flowers were already in full bloom along the roadside, though it felt like only yesterday that spring grass had first sprouted.
They had won, but they were exhausted.
Despite the triumph, pain and injury remained the soldier's reality.
The horses moved without strength, their pace slow and heavy.
Everyone knew this was not the end.
They would come again.
And someday, each of them might lie nameless by this very road.
At the gentle slope leading up to Jinga Manor, all the household members had come out to welcome them.
There were no banners, yet it was a celebration in every sense.
Faces shone with joy and relief.
Ever since troops had been stationed in Anyang County, anxiety had lingered for too long.
Waiting stretches the heart thin.
To wait for something to arrive is painful; to wait in hope that something will not arrive is closer to despair.
But they had driven the enemy out and returned victorious.
For now, there would be no immediate threat.
The manor stirred with excitement.
One servant even danced alone, unable to contain the joy.
Had the White Dragon Unit been defeated, the improvised infantry composed of household members—who had been lying in ambush nearby—would have been forced into battle.
They now breathed in relief.
Men and women alike rushed forward, embracing, laughing, and weeping.
They took the reins of the riders' horses and helped the wounded inside.
Though victorious, few were unscarred.
Scratches from stray spears and wounds from arrows marked nearly every man.
Numbers could not be ignored.
The White Dragon Unit was deeply moved.
When had they ever fought and received such a welcome?
Victory was usually taken for granted; defeat invited contempt.
Such was the temper of the times.
People even hesitated to marry soldiers.
Beneath the plaque that read "The First House of Hanam," even the great elder—his mind wandering with age—stood weeping.
Few sights are more poignant than an old man's tears.
Several men knelt before him.
His thin, wrinkled hands wiped blood from their faces.
Yet how long could such a moment last?
Soon, larger armies would come.
More young men would bleed.
How long could they endure?
Gyeongpil forced aside the shadowed thoughts pressing at the edge of his joy.
He was a soldier.
There was no reason to dilute today's happiness with tomorrow's fear.
Yesterday and tomorrow lay beyond their grasp.
Only the present could be lived.
He lifted a child who was jumping with excitement and set him before his saddle, then walked steadily through the main gate of Jinga Manor.
Soun searched the welcoming crowd for Iso-gun.
She was not there.
That made no sense.
Mirang was also nowhere to be seen.
Whenever Soun returned from outside, she had always been waiting at the entrance.
Somehow, she always knew the exact hour of his return.
Now that familiar presence was absent, and the absence settled uneasily in his chest.
Why?
Jin Musik wrapped an arm around Gyeongpil's shoulders as he dismounted.
"Thank you… Father is waiting."
He led him forward to the great elder.
"We have returned victorious, Grandfather!"
"Well done. And thank you."
Everyone understood.
They knew these men had fought without asking for reward.
Tears ran down the old man's face.
As the representative of the unit, Gyeongpil knelt and offered a formal military salute.
"We have crushed them and returned."
The other soldiers knelt as well.
Over a hundred men bowed in unison.
"Rise… rise, all of you…"
The elder's voice trembled, choked by tears.
The household rushed forward, helping each kneeling soldier to his feet and leading them inside.
Children and elders alike took hold of reins and arms.
Instead of their usual training grounds, the White Dragon Unit gathered in the wide courtyard just beyond the gate.
Word of their return had preceded them.
Meat had been prepared, wine set out.
A feast was about to begin.