“Ha! I nearly became the widow myself, you know. Be more careful.”
To keep his large body from toppling backward, Mok-young hurriedly planted a hand on the bed, but missed by a hair. Already near the edge, his hand only grasped empty air, and just as his body was about to fall clean off the bed, Hae-gang nimbly sat up, caught Mok-young in his arms, and laid him back down on the bed with ease.
The man he had taken for dead asleep only moments ago had already laid Mok-young down and now loomed over him, casting half a shadow across him. Mok-young could say nothing; he only gazed blankly up at Hae-gang’s face, then let out a shallow sigh and squeezed his eyes shut.
He was alive — that was enough. The fact that he himself had just nearly tumbled off the bed from the shock Hae-gang gave him was forgotten almost before he could say “quickly.” Now a petty grievance welled up — that after a single wedding night, Hae-gang had him worrying over his lifeline — and Mok-young opened his eyes again, shoved at Hae-gang’s chest with a thump of his hand, and sat himself upright.
The touch wasn’t truly harsh. It was a rough but painless shove, and the grievance in it was more like the grumbling of relief that he was breathing.
“If you’re awake, give some sign. Why are you playing dead?”
“Not pretending to sleep — pretending to be dead?”
Uncharacteristically flustered for Danmok, the raw words had slipped straight out. When Hae-gang seized on that point, Mok-young’s mouth opened slightly, but no retort came.
His words had held worry, and he fretted they might have sounded unkind to Hae-gang. But Hae-gang, who at this moment showed no intention at all of hiding his feelings, was simply smiling away — his heart didn’t seem hurt by so much as a speck of dust.
“…”
As Mok-young only stared at him in silence, Hae-gang only gazed back, a smile spread across his whole face. It was a strange quiet. One of them clearly didn’t know what to do with himself, while the other was simply, utterly delighted. The odd harmony made by those opposing feelings looked awkward at a glance, but it wasn’t an altogether bad atmosphere.
Wasn’t this much like the morning-after scene of any couple who’d had their wedding night? Though the general’s bride did seem an unusually forward, shameless sort of bridegroom.
“Sorry for startling you. It’s just that waking early in the morning is never easy for me.”
At least Hae-gang knew how to back down first — a relief. The grin he’d worn while teasing his wife faded, leaving only the soft afterglow of a smile at his lips, and he spoke in a calm voice.
“If it’s hard to get up early, you could just sleep.”
“I know. I should have, but what can I do when my eyes just open?”
Hae-gang said it with a light shrug, as though he couldn’t help it, and looking so utterly unruffled, Mok-young let out a hollow “heh” of a laugh. The smile deepened again at Hae-gang’s lips.
“While I was sleeping, my wife might have run off and…”
“I have to go to work. Open that mouth any further and I might not come back.”
As Hae-gang started in on another teasing remark, Mok-young raised a hand and clapped it over his mouth.
It was a light pressure, but Hae-gang made no move to push the hand away. He only laughed, and Mok-young thought something in the man was clearly broken somewhere since the wedding night.
“To speak of staying out all night so brazenly, right in front of me…”
As Mok-young lowered his hand and turned to get out of bed, Hae-gang couldn’t hold back and opened his mouth. But when Mok-young, having just swung his legs out of the bed, glanced smoothly back at him, Hae-gang raised his own hand to cover his mouth at that sharp look and fell silent. This time he didn’t smile — he wore a sullen, vaguely wronged face, and at the sight of it Mok-young let out an incredulous little “hmph” of a snort and got out of the bed.
But with his back to Hae-gang, a faint smile flickered at Mok-young’s lips too. His wife’s silly jokes weren’t so unpleasant to hear. And seeing how meekly he quieted at the not-quite-threat about not coming back… it made one corner of his chest itch needlessly, thinking: so my wife does wait for me, after all.
And as Mok-young moved, Hae-gang followed his retreating figure blankly with his eyes. The splendid pattern blooming across that broad back seized his gaze above all.
“It’s beautiful, like waves breaking.”
Hae-gang remembered what he had said. It had been a moment when the waves of passion crashed so hard he could barely hold onto reason, but the sight of that mysterious pattern rippling across his wife’s back in that instant was a spectacle he could never forget.
And he still thought it beautiful now. He wanted to chase after Mok-young this instant and throw his arms around him, but restrained himself with effort — that would keep him from going to work.
<div align=”center”>* * *</div>
The barracks of the Black Shadow Army’s First Division. With the afternoon wearing late, Mok-young sat at the desk in his office, looking over documents. He appeared as grave and composed as ever. But that was only the surface. His eyes had long since fixed on one spot, not properly reading a single character.
In one corner of his heart lodged a restlessness. Not so grave as to make him fidget, but enough to make focusing on work difficult. He lifted his head slightly and glanced toward the window. Through the light seeping past the paper of the firmly shut window, he judged the time by how long the shadows of things fell. It seemed he would soon be able to set his work aside and head home.
“His Highness is recovering.”
Yesterday evening. Mok-young, leaving work a little late and arriving home, had not been greeted by his wife.
After the wedding night he had looked so pleased — grinning so much it was hard to pretend not to notice — that Mok-young, needlessly embarrassed at how to face that face again, had dawdled a little. And an unexpected piece of news had greeted him in Hae-gang’s place.
That morning’s idle jokes echoed in his ears — “Sorry for startling you. It’s just that waking early is never easy for me.” “If it’s hard to get up early, you could just sleep.” “I know, I should have, but what can I do when my eyes just open?” “While I was sleeping, my wife might have run off and…”
That the man who had been tossing off idle jokes that very morning was now abed, unable to rise, after half a day. Mok-young was deeply disconcerted by a situation he had never imagined. He had worried all along that his strong yin energy might harm Hae-gang’s body — and Hae-gang had told him not to worry, that he wouldn’t die, that he wouldn’t make him a widow. That willful, willful man…!
Thud! Thinking of how he had paced his own room all last night, unable to properly sleep, Mok-young brought his clenched fist down hard on the desk. Whether Hae-gang was the foolish one or he himself had been the fool, there was no knowing, and his chest tightened suffocatingly.
“Do you really… not know your body could be harmed?”
“Have you already forgotten what I said? I told you to harm me if you wished.”
“I won’t die from that much. I promise I won’t make you a widow, so rest easy.”
He could only blame himself for being so completely taken in by a few words, though he’d known all along the man was inscrutable and glib. He was no weak-willed man, and yet — blinded by mere yang energy…
“Haa.”
Self-reproach always ended in a long sigh. In truth, who could blame whom? He knew how fiercely Hae-gang had yearned for him in that moment too, so Mok-young tried not to sink too deep into the mire of gloom.
He was simply burning up inside. For all that they’d shared one blanket and mingled flesh for a single night, affection — or something like it — had taken root, and he couldn’t stop worrying. Should he give him ten cartloads of scolding when he woke? But he himself was no better for having shared feeling with such a man, so another shallow sigh was all that came.
Daeho came into the office and called to Mok-young from a few paces before the desk. Rarely, Mok-young hadn’t noticed anyone enter, and only turned his head with an “ah” when he belatedly heard the call.
Daeho bowed his head in greeting as usual, with proper courtesy. The innocent air he had shown at Seolyong’s side the other day was nowhere to be found — he was every inch Baek Daeho, warrior of the Black Shadow Army’s First Division and trusted adjutant. His face was expressionless but grave. Knowing that the Dan Mok-young before him had at last mated with his wife made him all the more taciturn.
What Seolyong had always feared, why would Daeho not know it? When he first saw the face of the prince who had come from Namwi, Daeho too had no choice but to recognize him as one bearing Jujak’s essence. But it seemed not properly awakened, as though sunk in deep sleep, and great power always brought calamity upon humans when it could not be properly wielded. Just how had that prince of Namwi come to hold such great power in that young body, fourteen years ago?
Seolyong said that when he arrived, following the trace of the essence’s energy, the prince’s breath was nearly gone. But whether from inborn tenacity of life, the child held on — wandering the border between this world and the next for a full fortnight without waking once — and Seolyong felt he had to do something. And since he had told the prince, once his eyes at last opened, “You must learn the Juyang Divine Art to master your yang energy,” it was clear he had not properly learned the divine art before then.
“He was a child no one paid any mind to. He looked as though he were only waiting to die.” Barely thirteen. And an ill-omened child, stashed away deep, deep within the palace. However much the Juyang Divine Art was Namwi’s traditional martial art, however much all the imperial family’s children were meant to learn it — Daeho understood they would never have taught it properly to such a child.
They said he had a singular talent for the bow, but a child unprepared in every way could never be a vessel fit to hold the essence. That his gi and blood fell into turmoil and his body grew precarious was the natural conclusion.
In any case, such a man had come to Bukwi and mated with one bearing Hyeonmu’s essence — whether that would prove his opportunity or whether he would end up finding his grave here remained to be seen. Jujak and Hyeonmu were said to exist in harmony, but that applied only to divine beasts, to the primal embodiments of yin and yang. Hae-gang was a mere human, and bearing one’s fate could at times be cruel.
“Baekgyeong and I leave for Myoak Mountain at dawn tomorrow.”
Setting his musings aside, Daeho reported his assignment to Mok-young — that he was now putting into action what had been discussed earlier regarding the bandit gang.
“Good. You’ll manage well enough, I’m sure, but don’t overdo it.”
“Yes. The two of us moving together, it shouldn’t take long, but the road to Myoak Mountain is far — I’d say about a fortnight.”
At Daeho’s words, Mok-young only nodded silently in acknowledgment. Then Daeho suddenly bowed his head slightly and added,
“General, your birthday celebration is coming soon, and I’m sorry we won’t be able to attend.”
Mok-young’s birthday was now only days away, and Daeho and Baekgyeong would be unable to attend. To Mok-young, their apology for missing it while away on a distant mission sounded like needless worry.
“What nonsense. Just come back unhurt.”
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