Isn’t that good? (2)

His hands were freezing.

“Haa…”

Even blowing on them provided only momentary relief – his fingertips remained bright red and ice-cold.

“Haa.”

Without stopping, the boy alternated between blowing on his hands and making a pitiful face without realizing it. If only he wasn’t carrying that burden on his back, he could warm his hands together with his breath…

But warming his hands wouldn’t solve anything. Once the stabbing pain subsided, hunger would soon gnaw at his insides.

“Haa…”

Blowing on his numb hands, the boy pushed aside the reed mat covering the entrance and stepped into the hut.

Inside, a man and several boys, each a head shorter than the boy, were gathered around a fire in the center. They all looked as thin as twigs, especially the man in the middle, who appeared even more gaunt and irritable, likely due to his age.

Bubbling.

A pot sat on the fire, filled with thin, boiling porridge. The boy swallowed his saliva unconsciously at the sight.

“You’re back?”

“…Yes.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Well…”

The boy’s entire body tensed up with anxiety.

“Well… there wasn’t really anything to salvage…”

“What? With so many dead, you’re telling me there was nothing to take?”

“…Yes. It looks like someone else already took everything. There’s not even any food, and all the clothes were stripped off.”

“Damn it…”

The man’s face contorted. Over a hundred people had died in the fight, and not a single coin or handful of grain remained.

The fighters wouldn’t have had time to loot the bodies, so it meant that others had already swooped in like vultures to take everything.

“What’s that on your back?”

“Th-this is…”

The boy flinched and put down what he had been carrying on his back.

The man grimaced at the sight of something roughly wrapped in a dirty cloth.

“You…?”

The boy hastily explained, trying to excuse himself.

“N-no, it looked like there was something in his hand… I tried to pry it open, but he was gripping it too tightly.”

The man’s face turned red with anger.

“B-but he seemed to be alive. He’s still just a child… he was alive, so I couldn’t just leave him…”

Smack!

Before the boy could finish speaking, the man lunged at him and slapped him hard across the face. The boy, emaciated and weak, flew like a dry branch and crashed into the corner of the hut.

“You useless bastard!”

Still not satisfied, the man began mercilessly kicking and stomping on the fallen boy.

“A useless fool who couldn’t even get a share like everyone else! What? You brought a person here? What? He’s still alive?”

“I-I was wrong…”

“Shut up!”

Kicks rained down on the boy’s face.

This wasn’t a beating for discipline or education. It was reckless violence, intended to vent rage, with no concern if the boy ended up dead.

“Ugh!”

Blood trickled from the boy’s mouth, possibly from a torn inner cheek. Only after beating the boy for a while longer did the man finally stop. Harsh breathing echoed within the hut.

“Look at you, pretending to be a saint. Can’t even take care of your own bowl, and you’re worrying about others? Useless bastard! Don’t you get it? We’re all on the brink of starving to death, and now you add another mouth to feed? Do you know what that means?”

The boy hung limp, unable to respond.

The man, who never expected an answer, glanced at the wrapped child. He looked under ten years old.

Of course, he might actually be older. It’s common for the poor to look younger than their actual age due to malnutrition, especially around here.

Judging by his complexion, he looked like he could die any day now.

In this world, a powerless boy was worth less than a dog or a pig. At least animals could be fed and then slaughtered for meat later.

“W-what should we do?”

Another boy, just as bony as the one who had been beaten, cautiously asked,

“What should we do?”

“What?”

“Sh-should we throw him outside?”

The man glanced toward the hut entrance, his face twisted. The reed mat quivered in the biting wind. Even huddled inside the hut, the cold was bone-chilling. If they threw the child outside, he would probably freeze to death within an hour.

“Throw him in that corner.”

“But if we just-“

“Do as I say, you idiot! Do you have any idea how heavy a frozen corpse gets? Who’s going to move him when he’s stiff and won’t lift?”

“Oh…”

Several boys quickly nodded, immediately understanding the man’s words from past experience of moving frozen bodies.

“He’s going to die anyway if we leave him. Besides.”

The man swept his cold gaze over everyone, and the boys shrank back in fear.

“What are you all doing?”

“Uh, what do you mean…?”

“See?”

The man jerked his chin towards the entrance of the hut. Every time the wind stirred the reed mat, the swirling snowstorm outside was visible. Blizzards were rare in this region, underscoring the harshness of this winter.

“This isn’t snow that will stop in a day or two, is it?”

The boys nodded unconsciously. It was the first blizzard they had ever seen, and while they had no way of knowing when it would stop, they understood clearly that arguing with the man now would be inviting disaster.

“What are you going to eat until then?”

“Outside is…”

“Oh, so you want to sit here for three or four days, clutching your empty bellies and waiting it out?”

The boys couldn’t bring themselves to answer. They wanted to say they could survive by rationing the boiling porridge, but they knew better. That porridge would never be theirs to eat.

“Get out. Climb over someone’s wall, kill a dog, break the ice and catch fish if you have to! Do whatever it takes to find food! And if you can’t bring anything back, don’t even think about returning! Got it?”

“We-we should wait until the snow-“

Smack!

The boy who had spoken reflexively had his head snapped to the side by a slap.

“What?”

“I’ll find something! Definitely!”

“Get moving now!”

Terrified, the boys quickly lifted the fallen boy and rushed out of the hut.

The man muttered irritably to himself.

“Useless brats… Shit.”

Not all of this stemmed from his inherently violent nature.

He had been scraping by for over twenty years. He knew all too well how harsh this winter would be.

The wars among the Evil Sects, who brandished their swords at the slightest provocation, were becoming increasingly severe. Those who could no longer farm fled to the mountains and became slash-and-burn farmers, only to be robbed by bandits. This had been going on for over ten years.

The roads were strewn with bodies – some killed by blades, others starved to death – and now an exceptionally harsh winter had arrived.

With a touch of irritation, the man removed the pot from the fire. It was filled to the brim with thin porridge, made by diluting a scant handful of millet with plenty of water.

Calling it porridge was almost an insult, but to him, even this was precious.

‘Many will die before this winter is over.’

He didn’t care how many of those young beggar boys died. In a world where countless people perished, the easiest thing to come by was an orphan.

Even parents with breath still in their lungs were abandoning their children to reduce the number of mouths they had to feed, so he felt no guilt.

The problem wasn’t that they might die, but that he might. He was managing to survive for now, but he couldn’t live without food.

He looked down at his own hand, more precisely, at his wrist. It was so scrawny that it seemed it might snap at any moment, a sight that evoked not just irritation but outright fear.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Could he survive this winter on such meager fare? No, could he even continue to procure such thin porridge in the future?

To some, he was a beggar. To others, a thug. To some, a thief; to others, a robber. He had done whatever it took to survive, but this winter filled him with an unusual dread.

Had there been a winter like this before? It seemed there had been.

How had he survived then? Back then, it was even more…

At that moment, something came to the man’s mind, and he slowly shifted his gaze sideways.

The child tossed into the corner.

He was on the verge of death, but strangely, he wasn’t as starved as the others.

The man unconsciously swallowed. A flicker of conflict appeared in his eyes but quickly settled.

“Tsk.”

If it were the first time, he would agonize. If it were the second time, he would deliberate. But this was neither the first nor the second time, so there was no reason for prolonged hesitation.

The man slowly drew a sharp kitchen knife from the cheap scabbard at his waist.

Despite his resolve, he couldn’t help but feel tense, licking his parched lips. His eyes were filled with a sinister intent as he approached the child.

As his shadow fell over the child, whose hands were clenched so tightly they had lost circulation, the child’s fingers twitched faintly within his sleeve.

“…Are you okay?”

The boy who had been beaten managed to nod with difficulty.

At a glance, his condition was clearly poor. However, seeing him nod, the other boys quickly lost interest.

Children dying from beatings or starvation were a common occurrence. To them, death was not something distant and to be avoided, but rather a constant companion carried on their backs.

“Damn it. Where are we supposed to find something in this weather?”

One of the boys grumbled.

Not even animals would hunt in weather like this. No one was in sight, so where were they supposed to find food?

“If this keeps up, we might as well…”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Before he could finish his sentence, the other boys shook their heads. Though they understood his feelings, they had no choice but to dissuade him.

Killing that man would mean no more beatings, but in this world, if they couldn’t find a group to join, they would lose even the handful of tree bark they managed to scrounge, and eventually their lives.

A group without an adult was an easy target. For their own survival, that wretched man needed to stay alive – at least until they could fend for themselves.

Then the boy who had been beaten spoke calmly.

“Just wait a bit.”

“For what?”

The boys, shivering in the biting wind, asked with puzzled expressions. They wondered if he had a plan to find food.

The boy replied nonchalantly.

“Just wait a moment and then go back in.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean. At least tonight, we’ll have something to eat.”

The boys stared blankly at him, and then, moments later, they flinched. They realized what he meant by ‘something to eat.’

“No way…”

“Is it really a surprise? Are we the only ones like this? Haven’t you heard the rumors about Wang Hopae before?”

The rumors about Wang Hopae. The boys swallowed hard, recalling the horrifying tales they couldn’t even speak aloud.

“So it’s really going to happen…”

“It won’t help to go back early, and it won’t help to go back late. Just wait a bit longer.”

Various emotions flickered across the boys’ faces – fear, despair, resignation, and anguish.

But none of them condemned the situation. When it’s a matter of life and death, the outcome is obvious, isn’t it?

“…How much longer do we have to wait?”

“Not long. How long could it take to deal with a dying child?”

“He might hesitate.”

“That guy? Hesitate?”

The boys fell silent.

Under the bare tree, they endured the biting wind for about a quarter of an hour. Then, slowly, they trudged back to the hut.

As they approached, they sensed it clearly.

The closer they got to the hut, the stronger the smell became. It pierced through the sharp winter wind to reach their noses… the smell of blood.

One of the boys swallowed hard and cautiously pulled back the reed mat covering the entrance. He froze in place, as if turned to ice.

“Oh…”

Blood was splattered everywhere.

It wasn’t unexpected. Even if it was messier than anticipated, they had expected there to be a lot of blood.

What they hadn’t anticipated was whose blood it was.

“The, the boss…”

The man who had driven them outside lay helplessly on the ground. His eyes were wide open, unable to close in death, presenting a gruesome sight.

His chest had been slashed open, his face bore a long gash, and his neck was pierced by a short dagger.

The dagger, with its handle broken off, was very small – small enough to be almost invisible when gripped tightly by a child’s hand.

“Oh…”

Imagining the scene that must have unfolded inside the hut, they turned pale.

Clink. Clink.

Near the cooling corpse, an oddly calm sound could be heard. Turning to look, they saw a small child, barely large enough to reach their chests, sitting beside the body.

‘What is that…’

The clinking sound was the noise of an old spoon striking the pot.

In the pot was the porridge that the man had intended to eat.

And the one eating it was the child who had been wrapped in filthy cloth and tossed into the hut.

The boys stood frozen, unable to move.

Who had killed the man? How had the child woken up? How could the child sit so calmly next to the corpse, eating the porridge?

They didn’t care about any of that.

They were simply overwhelmed by the scene before them. The dead was growing cold, and the living were eating. This harsh reality, colder than the brutal winter, chilled the boys to their core.

And then.

Clink.

The child set down the pot and slowly turned his head.

From beneath the disheveled hair, the child’s lips became visible.

Whether it was the warmth of the porridge or some eerie heat filling the space, those lips, which had been deathly pale moments ago, were now stained a vibrant red, like blood shed by the dead man.

The boys couldn’t even think to breathe out.

Just before they suffocated in the fleeting yet eternal silence, those crimson lips curved softly into a smile.

It was a seemingly innocent, bright smile, but it inexplicably sent chills down their spines.

❀ ❀ ❀

Jang Ilso opened his eyes slowly and rose from the bed.

He glanced around at the luxurious bed, the soft silk blankets draped over, and the gently burning scented candles that illuminated the room.

Just then, sensing his awakening, attendants entered through the door of the chamber.

“Is there anything you need, Ryeonju?”

Without answering, Jang Ilso looked blankly at them for a moment, then absentmindedly looked out beyond the chamber. His chilly gaze shifted to the attendants.

“Is it snowing?”

The attendants, taken aback by the unexpected question, exchanged puzzled glances. Snow in this weather? It seemed incomprehensible.

Unable to grasp his intentions, they hesitated, prompting Jang Ilso to smirk and slowly wave his hand.

“No, never mind.”

He swiftly drank the water they brought him in one gulp and set the glass down.

“Porridge.”

“…Excuse me?”

Jang Ilso’s face brightening with a fresh smile on his pale white face, that smile that felt so eerily pure.

“Let’s have millet porridge for breakfast.”