Return of The Mount Hua – Chapter 1542. Isn't that good enough? (2)
Editor: Hoamz
Co-Translator: Xoxo
His hands were freezing cold.
"Haah..."
Even blowing on them only helps for a moment. His fingertips were still frozen solid and bright red.
“Haaa.”
The boy kept alternating hands, breathing on them without pause and had his face involuntarily scrunching in distress. If only he weren’t carrying something on his back, he could cup both hands together and warm them with his breath…
Then again, thawing his hands wouldn’t fix anything. Once this stabbing cold pain subsided, hunger would stab through his guts instead.
"Haah..."
The boy, blowing on his numb hands, lifted the reed mat woven haphazardly with reeds and stepped into the hut.
Inside, a man and a group of boys a head shorter than him were sitting around a fire lit in the center.
All of them were as thin as twigs. Especially the man sitting in the center looked particularly emaciated and irritable, whether due to his age.
Bubbling.
A pot was placed over the fire. Looking at the thin gruel that was boiling, the boy unconsciously swallowed his saliva.
"You're back?"
"...Yes."
“Did you catch anything?”
"That’s...."
The boy's whole body stiffened with tension.
“There wasn’t really… anything to get…”
"What? That many people dropped dead, and you found nothing?"
"...Yes. It, it seems someone else already took everything. Not only food, but even the clothes were all stripped off."
"Son of a beast..."
The man's face distorted. Over a hundred people had died in a sword fight, and there wasn't a single coin or a handful of grain left.
The martial artists wouldn’t have wasted time rummaging through the corpses. That meant other people had swarmed in like ghosts and picked them clean already.
"What's that thing on your back?"
“Th- This is....”
The boy flinched and put down what he was carrying on his back.
When the man saw what was wrapped crudely in a filthy cloth, his face contorted in disgust.
"You...?"
The boy quickly stammered as if making an excuse.
“N- No, it seemed like he was holding something in his hand... I tried to open it, but he's gripping it too tightly."
The man's face turned red and blue.
“H- He seemed alive. H- He’s just a kid… and alive, so I couldn’t just leave him—"
Whack!
Before the words could even finish, the man rushed forward and viciously slapped the boy's cheek. The scrawny boy’s body flew like a dry stick and was thrown into a corner of the hut.
“You stupid son of a beast!”
As if that wasn't enough to vent his anger, the man began to mercilessly kick and stomp on the fallen boy.
"Worthless trash who can’t even scrape together a share like everyone else! Huh? You brought back a person? What? Still alive?"
"I, I was wro..."
"Shut up!"
Kicks rained down on the boy's face.
This wasn't a beating for discipline or teaching. It was violence that was closer to simply venting anger, where it wouldn't matter if he was kicked to death at random.
“Keok!”
Blood flowed from the corner of the boy's mouth as if the inside of his mouth had burst. Only after being beaten for a good while longer and going limp did the man stop his kicking. Rough breathing echoed inside the hut.
"Look at this saint we've got here. A guy who can't even fill his own rice bowl is worried about others? You stupid son of a beast! We’re already all about to starve to death, don’t you know what will happen if we add another mouth to the pot?"
The boy remained limp and could not answer.
The man, who hadn’t expected an answer in the first place, cast a brief glance at the child still wrapped in the dirt-stained cloth. He didn't look to be even ten years old.
Of course, his actual age might be older. It's common for poor people to look younger because they grow up stunted from hunger, especially in this region.
Judging from the complexion, he was clearly on his last legs.
In a world like this, a powerless male was worse than a dog or pig. At least livestock could be slaughtered and eaten after being fed.
"Wh- What should we do?"
A boy as skin-and-bones as the one who had been beaten asked cautiously.
"What?"
“...Should I throw him outside?”
The man grimaced and glanced toward the hut entrance. The reed mat was swaying in the bitter wind. The cold was so fierce that bones ached even when huddled inside the hut. If they threw him outside, he probably wouldn't last an hour before freezing to death.
"Throw him in that corner over there."
“Do you really need to....”
"Just leave him like I said, you idio! Don't you know how heavy a frozen corpse gets? Who's going to move a guy frozen solid that won't budge?"
"Ah..."
Several boys nodded quickly. Having had the experience of moving a frozen corpse, they immediately understood the man's words.
“He’s gonna die if we leave him anyway. Better yet.”
As the man looked around at everyone with cold eyes, the boys shrank their necks with frightened eyes.
“What are you all doing?”
“...Yes? We....”
"Do you see that?"
The man gestured toward the hut's entrance with his chin. Whenever the reed mat lifted in the wind, a raging snowstorm could be seen outside. Snowstorms themselves were rare in this area. That’s how harsh the winter was.
“It’s not the kind of snow that’ll stop in a day or two, is it?”
The boys nodded unconsciously. Since it was their first time seeing such a blizzard, they had no way of knowing when it would stop, but they clearly understood that contradicting the man's words now would be hastening their own death.
"What are you going to eat during that time?"
“Outside....”
"Ah, so you're saying we should just hold our starving stomachs and endure it here for three or four days?"
The boys couldn't bring themselves to answer.
They wanted to say they could just ration out the gruel boiling there, but they knew. That gruel would never enter their mouths.
“Get out. Climb over someone’s wall, kill a dog, or if that’s not possible, break the ice and catch some fish! Do whatever to get food! Any bastard who can't find anything, don't think about coming back! Got it?"
"The sn- snow needs to subside a little..."
Whack!
The boy who spoke was sent reeling from a backhand.
“What was that?”
"I- I'll get it! I definitely will!"
"Get the hell out now!"
The thoroughly terrified boys hastily carried the boy who had collapsed from kicks and all rushed out of the hut.
The man muttered in an irritated voice.
"Fucking idiots... Damn it."
None of this was solely because of his cruel nature.
He had lived by begging for more than twenty years already. That's how he could tell. Just how brutal this winter would be.
The wars among Evil Sects bastard, who would draw their swords the moment their eyes met, were only growing worse. Those who couldn't dare farm fled to the mountains to become slash-and-burn farmers, and then became bandits who robbed such slash-and-burn farmers. This had been going on for over ten years already.
The roads were littered with a messy mix of corpses killed by swords and corpses dead from starvation, and on top of that, a winter so harsh it was hard to find a precedent had arrived.
The man pulled the pot off the fire with an irritated gesture. It was a thin gruel, boiled with a handful of millet and an excess of water until it turned murky.
It was almost embarrassing to even call it gruel, but to him, even this was precious.
'Many of us will die before winter over.'
It didn't matter how many of those young beggar brats died. In a world where people dropped like flies, orphans were the easiest thing to find.
Hell, even parents who were still breathing abandoned their own children just to reduce the number of mouths to feed, so the man had no reason to be more hesitant.
The problem wasn't those bastards dying, but that he himself might die. He was managing to endure somehow for now, but ultimately there was no way to live without eating.
He looked down at the hand holding the pot. His wrist, to be precise. They were so thin they looked like they could snap clean in two at any moment, and the sight pushed him past irritation into fear.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. Could he survive this winter eating with this? No, could he even get his hands on gruel like this in the future?
To some, he was a beggar. To others, a thug. To some, a bandit. To others, a robber. He had lived doing everything he could to survive, but this winter was uniquely terrifying.
Had a winter like this ever come before? Maybe it had.
How had he survived back then? Back then, it was even more…
Then the man remembered something and slowly shifted his gaze to the side.
To the child tossed in the corner.
A brat who was about to kick the bucket, but strangely, he wasn't shriveled up like the others.
The man unconsciously swallowed dryly. A light of conflict flickered in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.
“Tsk.”
If it were the first time, he would hesitate. If it were the second time, he might deliberate. But if it was neither the first nor the second, there was no reason to think long.
The man slowly drew a sharp kitchen knife from the cheap scabbard at his waist.
Still, he couldn't help feeling nervous, so he licked his parched lips. The man’s eyes as he approached the child were heavy with intention.
The moment the man’s long shadow was cast over the child, the child’s hand, which had been so firmly clenched that blood couldn't circulate, twitched slightly inside his sleeve.
---
"...Are you alright?"
The beaten boy nodded his head with difficulty.
At a glance, his condition was not good. But the boys who had asked if he was okay quickly lost interest after seeing the nod.
There were plenty who got beaten to death, and plenty who starved to death. For them, death wasn’t some distant thing to be avoided, but something they constantly carried on their backs as they lived.
"Damn it. Where are we supposed to go begging in weather like this!"
One of the boys complained.
Even beasts wouldn't hunt in this weather. With not a soul in sight, where were they supposed to find food?
"If this keeps up, we might as well just…”
"Stop."
Before he could finish, the others shook their heads. They understood the sentiment, but they had no choice but to dissuade him.
Killing that bastard would spare them beatings, but living in this world without a gang to rely on, even the handful of bark in their hands would be stolen along with their lives.
Nothing became a target as easily as a group without adults. For them to live, that damned man had to be alive. At least until they could stand on their own.
Then the boy who had been beaten earlier spoke calmly.
“Just wait a little.”
"...What?"
The children, shivering in the skin-piercing winter wind, asked with puzzled faces. They were hoping he might have a way to get some food.
The boy spoke calmly.
“Just wait a moment and then go in.”
“...What are you talking about?”
"You know well, so why ask? At least today we’ll get something in our mouths.”
The children stared blankly at the boy, then flinched a moment later, realizing what that ‘something to put in their mouths’ meant.
"No way...."
"Acting all surprised. Are we the only ones? Didn't you hear the rumors about Wang Ho-pae before?"
Wang Ho-pae rumor. The boys swallowed dryly as they recalled that unspeakably gruesome rumor.
“Then it’s really…”
“Going early won’t do us any good, and going late won’t help either. Just wait a little longer.”
Various emotions flickered across each of the boys’ faces.
Dread, despair, resignation, agony…
But no one blamed him for this. If one had to choose between their own death and someone else’s, wasn’t the result obvious?
“...How much longer do we have to wait?”
“Not long. How long could it take to deal with one half-dead kid?”
“Couldn’t he hesitate?”
“That scum bastard?”
The boys kept their mouths shut.
Enduring the biting wind under the skeletal tree for about an hour. The boys shuffled back toward the hut again.
Soon, they could feel it clearly.
The smell grew thicker as they neared the hut. Piercing through the fierce winter wind to burrow into their nostrils... the stench of blood.
One of the boys cautiously pushed open the reed mat, then froze like ice.
"Uh...."
Blood was splattered everywhere.
This in itself wasn’t strange. It was a bit more dramatic than expected, but they had figured there would be plenty of blood.
What they hadn’t expected… was the owner of that blood.
“B- Boss....”
The man who had chased them outside had collapsed and was lifeless. The sight of his eyes, wide open and unable to even close, was wretched.
His chest was torn apart and long wounds were carved across his face. And his neck… was impaled by a short dagger.
The dagger, which appeared to have had its handle torn off, was very small. Small enough to be barely visible if gripped tightly in a child's hand.
“Eugh…”
Everyone turned ashen imagining the scene that must have unfolded inside the hut.
Clatter. Clatter.
From beside the still-warm corpse came an eerily calm sound. Looking around, a child small enough to barely reach the boys' chests was sitting beside the corpse.
'That's...?'
The clatter the child was making was the sound of an old spoon hitting against the pot.
Inside the bowl was the gruel the man had intended to eat.
The one eating the gruel was the child who had been wrapped in filthy cloth and thrown into the corner of the hut.
The boys stood frozen and couldn't move.
Who killed the man? How had the child woken up? How can that child be so calmly eating gruel next to the corpse?
None of that mattered.
They were simply overwhelmed by the sight. The dead grew cold while the living ate. A reality more chilling than the brutal winter froze the boys' blood cold.
And then.
Clank.
The child set down the pot and slowly turned his head.
Beneath the hair that had fallen in a tangled mess and half-covered his face, his lips were visible.
Whether it was from the warmth of the gruel or the strange heat that filled this space, the lips that had moments ago been deathly blue as if he were about to die were now dyed as red as blood.
The boys couldn't even think to breathe.
In that fleeting yet eternity-long silence, just before they were about to suffocate, those red lips curved gently and let out a smile.
It was a smile that looked innocently bright, but was somehow bone-chilling.
* * *
Jang Ilso opened his eyes and slowly sat up.
He slowly looked around at the splendid bed, the silk sleeping robes draped softly over his body, and the softly burning scented candles illuminating the space.
As if sensing his presence, attendants entered through the tent’s opened door.
"Have you woken up, Ryeonju-nim?"
Jang Ilso, staring at them without answering, suddenly gazed blankly outside the tent. Then his cool eyes shifted back to the attendants.
“Is it snowing?”
The attendants flinched slightly, exchanging glances with flustered faces.
Snow in this weather?
At their reaction of not understanding, Jang Ilso chuckled softly and waved his hand dismissively.
"Never mind."
Draining in one go the water they had brought him, Jang Ilso set down the cup and said.
"Gruel."
“…Pardon?”
A fresh smile appeared on his pale white face. A bright smile that felt so pure.
“Let’s have millet gruel for breakfast.”
|Note
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