161.
Clinging to the Tail
The two of them fled as though their very tails were on fire.
Hoofbeats tore across the open field behind them.
A dozen cavalry from the Imperial Guard gave chase.
Yet before long, their pace slackened.
When Soun glanced back, he saw that they were only pretending to pursue before gradually turning away.
Their commander was dead.
There was no reason to risk their lives in earnest pursuit.
They knew well that making a show of chasing would satisfy any accusation of cowardice.
Yang Johwi, panting, pulled hard on his reins.
The horse was the one that had been running, yet it was Yang who struggled for breath.
Age has its limits.
The heart may be willing, but the body keeps its own counsel.
"Student Yu, let's rest a while."
"Are you tired, Uncle?"
"No, it's not that. There's no one chasing us now."
They chose a spot near the foothills not far from where the ambush had taken place.
Green grass grew thick there.
It was the kind of ground that invited a man to lie down and close his eyes.
If this were not war—if it were not this life—one might return and spend an entire day doing nothing at all.
There are always places one promises to revisit someday.
Yet most are never seen again.
Even the memory of such promises fades in a world that hurries men forward without pause.
"This is a good place."
"It is."
"Let's rest."
"Yes."
Yang stretched his shoulders and asked, unable to restrain himself,
"I couldn't see clearly from a distance. How did you kill him?"
Curiosity led the question.
But he also needed facts for his report.
Soun answered casually.
"I just sliced—then his head came off."
The explanation was absurdly brief.
Yang had expected talk of techniques, force, and cultivated energy.
Instead—slice, and off it went.
Could such words truly come from a boy of fifteen?
Soun demonstrated with his hand, drawing it across his neck.
His hands were still small.
The long wrist guards and shield strapped at his forearm still seemed oversized.
They were not the hands one imagined severing a commander's head.
It was not disbelief alone that troubled Yang.
There was simply not enough explanation.
He could not report it that way.
Gagyeongpil would explode.
"That's it? I was too busy shooting to see properly. Explain it better."
"They were weak."
"Well… you are rather strong."
Soun drew dried meat from the pouch tied to his saddle.
Without ceremony, he handed a piece to Yang.
It was a quiet gesture of comradeship.
But Yang, who had recently feasted at Jin Gajang's generous table, grumbled.
After proper meals, dried meat scraped at the teeth and stuck in the throat.
"Do we have to eat this? Let's go somewhere and get a real meal. I'll pay. There was an inn operating down that way yesterday."
Soun shook his head.
Then he traced his finger lightly across his throat again.
"You know what happens when we leave the field. In the middle of open ground, we must want only what can be had. We're still on operation, Uncle."
Yang shook his head shortly.
"The operation's over. We were here to assassinate the enemy commander. Mission accomplished."
"Over?"
"Of course. We killed their commander."
"No. When one commander dies, another takes his place. That one must die too."
"If we kill him, another will take over."
"Then we kill him too. That's what work is, isn't it? It never ends."
"What are you saying? Kill all their generals?"
"If necessary."
"How far do you intend to go?"
"Until the enemy retreats. I'll take the heads of commanders until they understand that becoming one means death."
"Student Yu, don't talk nonsense. I came to cut down that one man."
"Jang Sigi. Let's observe first. See how confused they are. We should eat something. If we're to move again soon, we'll need strength."
"You might as well light a fire and hang a cauldron while you're at it."
Soun's gaze drifted.
"I miss those days. They were simple. All we had to do was defeat the barbarians. Enemy and ally were clear. It was righteous. There was no need to think."
His voice lowered.
"Now everything is tangled. Allies become enemies. Enemies are countrymen. Even victory feels hollow. I don't know how long we must live in this confusion."
The gravity of his words altered the air.
Yang's tone shifted.
He regretted bringing up the inn.
He had noticed before—whenever Soun sank too deeply into thought, he withdrew into himself.
At first Yang had thought it the habit of a contemplative child.
Now it felt more like a wound.
On a battlefield, sinking inward was dangerous.
One had to shake it off to survive.
"Hey, hey. Enough of the heavy thoughts. Let's eat something. Then we'll see. All right?"
He forced a brightness into his voice.
No matter how formidable his martial prowess, Soun was fifteen.
Yang felt a responsibility to steady him.
Perhaps it was the instinct of an older man to guide the mood.
Perhaps it was simply care.
"It'll get better. You have to believe that. Here, try this."
Yang handed him thinly sliced jerky, glossy and rich.
It was clearly superior to what Soun had offered.
"What's different about this?"
"I brought it in case you got gloomy."
"Liar. You charmed Sister Jin Soso and got it from her, didn't you?"
"Soso? What nonsense! She packed it while crying, telling me not to die."
"Liar. You just wanted to grab her wrist once, didn't you? Brushed it in passing?"
Yang fell silent.
Soun had not even seen the moment, yet described it perfectly.
The boy might appear naïve, but his grasp of situations was uncanny.
He knew Yang's hidden eagerness.
He knew Jin Soso's pretense of indifference while prolonging farewell.
Permission was needed—but Yang lacked the boldness to press further.
Perhaps that was why he remained unmarried.
The world of adults, after all, could be more treacherous than war.