Love Song (戀歌)

Chapter 1: Riazai Hamlet

The black river greeted Yujin. The sound of water in the darkness was both eerie and peaceful. The river, vast and deep, seemed capable of swallowing anything that entered it. Yujin’s gaze, fixed on the tranquil black waters, was calmer than ever.

“Finally.”

His cracked, parched voice slipped out weakly. Yujin raised his head and stared blankly at the crimson moon hanging high and proud in the sky. It wasn’t a bad day to die.

For a moment, memories of days long past—so distant he couldn’t even remember when they were—flooded his mind. Days when he would look up at the high-hanging moon, talk about its color, and laugh. Until yesterday, he had tried hard not to remember the days when he used to laugh. But in this moment, he let himself recall those faded, scattered memories one by one.

On the days of the yellow moon, he laughed brightly like sunlight.
On the days of the blue moon, he laughed with freshness.
On the days of the earthen moon, he laughed with abundance.
On the days of the white moon, he laughed with serenity.

Yet, the sound of laughter from those memories didn’t come back to him. The people in his memories were laughing, saying something to him, but he couldn’t recall their voices. A bittersweet and happy recollection made the corners of his lips curl slightly, but even that soon faded away.

Splash, splash.

The splashing sound of water echoed ominously as Yujin’s body slowly disappeared into the river.

Once the water reached his chin, he took a few more steps forward, but the ground beneath his feet was no longer there. As his entire body began sinking into the black depths, he didn’t hold his breath—he opened his mouth wide instead. Cold water rushed in indiscriminately, flooding his mouth and nose, leaving him in agony. Instinct fought back, urging him to thrash his arms and legs to reach the surface, but he resisted.

Yujin clenched his body tightly and opened his mouth even wider. As the will to survive started to fade, an image of his grandmother came to him. He longed to see her—desperately. Her voice, now barely a memory, lingered faintly in his mind as he let the tension leave his body.

‘Yujin.’
‘My dear Yujin.’

Grandmother, I’m finally…

Just as the thread of his consciousness was about to snap, Yujin’s body was yanked upward at a rapid speed. Startled, his eyes flew open, catching a brief glimpse of two crimson moons before they vanished.

“Gasp! Cough, cough!”

Air rushed painfully into his lungs, triggering a violent fit of coughing. Along with the coughs came retching as water poured from his body, leaving him trembling with the sensation that his insides were being torn out. Before he could clear his blurry vision or regulate his erratic breaths, a rock-solid hand grabbed him by the nape and dragged him to the riverbank, where he was unceremoniously thrown onto the gravel.

“Ugh!”

The sharp pebbles scraped against his knees, and his palms stung as he braced himself against the ground. His mind reeled, struggling to grasp what had just happened. Groaning softly, Yujin raised his head to look at the man standing before him.

…Bart? What’s Bart doing here?

Bart, the mounted warrior. Even Yujin, who had no dealings with the warriors and didn’t work in their territory, knew who he was. A revered figure among the tribe, Bart was hailed as the strongest of the strong. Yet here he was, standing before Yujin in nothing but his bare skin, bathed in moonlight.

‘Did Bart save me? Why?’

Yujin blinked dumbly, staring up at Bart, who finally broke the silence with a voice as deep and resonant as an echo in a cavern.

“I was hoping for a break.”

If a blade were hidden in words, this would be it. The irritation in Bart’s tone, born of his interrupted rest, was palpable. Glancing at the distant rocks, Yujin saw faint outlines of Bart’s belongings. Perhaps he’d been swimming in the river.

‘Should I say something? But what?’

What could he even say? Thank you for saving me when I wanted to die? Or, I’m sorry for disturbing your rest? Words tangled chaotically in his mind, but not a single one left his lips. In the end, Yujin chose silence, lowering his head. A sharp click of Bart’s tongue came from above, and though Yujin had done nothing wrong, his shoulders hunched reflexively. The weight of Bart’s presence as a mounted warrior was enough to keep Yujin silent and subdued.

Drip, drip.

Droplets fell from Yujin’s wet clothes, forming a small puddle that reflected the faint image of the crimson moon. His legs felt numb and throbbed with pain. The back of his neck felt cold, and his teeth chattered slightly, whether from fear or the chill.

The rippling moon in the puddle grew still, amplifying the discomfort of the situation. Yujin almost wished Bart would curse at him or strike him—anything to break the suffocating silence. With a quiet sigh, Yujin slowly raised his gaze.

‘Perhaps it’s because he’s a warrior.’

Bart’s body seemed impossibly solid and imposing, his muscles casting shadows under the interplay of moonlight and darkness. It was hard to believe someone like him existed in the same world as Yujin. No, Bart seemed entirely otherworldly.

Yujin’s gaze trailed over Bart’s broad chest and the chiseled contours of his torso, climbing higher and higher until their eyes finally met. His neck craned back as he took in the sight of Bart towering over him.

The crimson moon reflected in the river mirrored itself in Bart’s eyes, creating the illusion of two red moons staring down at Yujin. The icy aura surrounding Bart invoked both fear and reverence.

“Your eyes are like…”

“…”

The words slipped out unintentionally, but before Yujin could finish his sentence, Bart’s brow furrowed slightly. The flicker of displeasure in Bart’s gaze made Yujin freeze, instinctively dropping flat to the ground.

Bart’s piercing gaze lingered on Yujin’s trembling back for a moment before he turned away, walking toward the rocks. He dressed quickly, retrieved his sword, and slung it over his shoulder. As Bart glanced back briefly over his shoulder, no one noticed the fleeting expression on his face.

As the sound of Bart’s footsteps faded, Yujin finally dared to lift his head. He watched Bart’s broad back grow smaller in the distance before shifting his gaze to the river. He considered going back into the water but hesitated, haunted by the image of the crimson moon he’d seen as he was pulled out.

He had no idea what to do next. Yujin simply curled up on the riverbank, staring blankly at the river as it gradually calmed.

A breeze swept by. It was the season when water rose in the mountains and fields, signaling the arrival of spring. Yet winter’s chill lingered in the air, brushing against Yujin’s soaked clothes.

* * *

“What the hell is this?!”

Yujin, who had paused to rest for a moment, lifted his head at the sudden outburst and looked toward the front of the group. Unlike Bart, who stood silently, Namta stomped his feet in frustration, shouting curses at the path blocked by mud, wood, and rocks.

‘The road is blocked?’

They had been traveling along a narrow trail, and now it was obstructed.

‘Will we have to turn back?’

Yujin glanced at Bart, who seemed deep in thought. Bart’s face, as always, betrayed no emotion, a stark contrast to the fuming Namta beside him. Yujin couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the difference.

After a moment of silence, Bart issued a command to the empty air as he stared at the blocked path.

“Bring someone who knows another way back.”

Though he wasn’t addressing anyone specifically, a warrior standing behind him immediately ran off. It had been like this throughout their journey to Riazai Hamlet. Everyone had assumed Namta, the son of the Mounted Tribe’s leader, would lead the group, but Bart was the one in charge. Even now, Bart, not Namta, was the one resolving the situation.

Bart gave orders as if it were the most natural thing, and the warriors followed him without question. He didn’t need to single anyone out—those near him obeyed as though it were their duty. A warrior who could command other warriors—that was Bart.

The warrior who had run off returned shortly, bringing back a middle-aged man. He reported to Bart.

“This man knows the way.”

“Does he?”

Bart’s slow response was followed by silence, prompting the warrior to jab the man in the side.

“Ah, y-yes. Well, uh, if we take a bit of a detour along the river and over the mountain, we can make it,” the man stammered.

“How long will it take?”

“If we travel without baggage, about three days. But with all our supplies, it might take at least six.”

Bart nodded at the man’s explanation, accepting the situation calmly. In contrast, Namta, who had been cursing earlier, shouted at the man in irritation.

“Three days for what should take one?! Damn it, this is so frustrating. Isn’t there another way?”

“N-no, sir. To get to Riazai Hamlet, you have to pass through the mountain, and the road is blocked—”

“Damn it, if it weren’t for my father, I wouldn’t even be dealing with this!”

Bart’s brow furrowed slightly at Namta’s complaint but quickly returned to its usual calm expression. Regardless of the obstacles, they had to reach their destination, even if it meant taking a detour.

Turning his gaze from the blocked mountain trail, Bart began walking toward the river. Without hesitation, everyone behind him followed.

Yujin also got to his feet, ready to continue the journey, and glanced at Bart. The contrast between Namta, the son of the tribe’s leader, and Bart was striking. Both were warriors of the Mounted Tribe, yet Bart led the group with quiet authority while Namta spent the day complaining. The warriors following them seemed accustomed to this dynamic, which might explain why Bart was so highly regarded.

As dusk fell, the group stopped near the river to set up camp. Over thirty warriors were attended to by common tribesmen, who skillfully unpacked supplies, lit fires, and prepared meals.

“Hey, you there. Don’t just sit around—take this.”

Yujin, who had been massaging his swollen legs, snapped to attention at the older man’s command. He quickly responded and approached him.

“Yes.”

“Here, take these.”

The man shook his aching wrist a few times before handing Yujin dried meat and a flask of warm broth.

“Who should I take this to?” Yujin asked.

“Bart. Take it to him and see if he needs anything else.”

“Bart? Him?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Sorry. I’ll take it to Bart right away.”

Yujin apologized out of habit and walked toward where the warriors were gathered. Spotting Bart was easy; his large, solid frame stood out unmistakably. He was seated, inspecting the blade of his sword.

As Yujin approached, his gaze involuntarily wandered to Bart’s thick, muscular forearms, which seemed to ripple with life as they moved. Reflexively, Yujin raised one of his own slender arms and gave it a slight squeeze, as if to compare.

The difference was overwhelming. Even among ordinary men, Yujin was on the smaller side, but Bart towered over most warriors, his stature making Yujin seem like an adolescent boy in comparison.

“This is for you.”

Yujin held out the dried meat and warm broth. Bart, who had been focused on his sword, lifted his gaze. As his eyes traveled from the food in Yujin’s hands to the faint bruise around his eye, Yujin shrank back, lowering his head awkwardly.

The bruises that hadn’t faded yet—yellowish in some spots and deep purple near his jaw—were still glaring reminders of the beatings Yujin had endured.

If people saw him as a weakling who was constantly hit, even strangers would easily strike him without hesitation. Out of habit, Yujin tried to hide the marks as best he could. Though the bruises likely hadn’t been visible by the dim, fireless riverbank that night, things were different now. He felt utterly exposed, as though every blemish on him was being laid bare.

If Bart decided to hit him, Yujin knew he wouldn’t stand a chance. Still, he wanted to hide it—not out of fear of the pain but from the shame of appearing like someone who got pushed around by anyone and everyone.

“If you need anything else, please let me know now,” he said cautiously, his head lowered. Only then did Bart’s heavy gaze finally leave him.

Yujin exhaled softly in relief as Bart responded in a tone that was as indifferent as it was final.

“No. You can go.”

With a small nod, Yujin stepped back, stealing glances at Bart even as he moved away. Bart was undeniably a standout among the Mounted Tribe warriors—not just for his physique but also for his striking appearance.

Throughout their journey to Riazai Hamlet, the women in the group had praised Bart endlessly, marveling at his handsomeness in every imaginable way. Yujin had initially thought Bart looked slightly better than the other warriors, but after seeing him up close, he began to understand the women’s fuss.

Bart’s sharp, powerful eyes and his high, regal nose bridge were mesmerizing. His strong jawline, so different from Yujin’s own, enhanced his commanding aura. With the red moon casting shadows over his features, Bart seemed larger than life. His presence alone demanded attention, evoking both fear and admiration. Even Yujin couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him.

Still, he would probably be like everyone else. A cruel Mounted Tribe warrior.

Yujin rubbed his sore wrist as he returned to the middle-aged man who had sent him.

“He said there’s nothing else he needs.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Here’s your share.”

The man handed Yujin a small piece of dried meat. Accepting it with a quiet “Thank you,” Yujin carried it to where the other commoners had gathered and took a seat.

After walking all day, this single piece of meat was his only meal. It was laughably small compared to what he had just delivered to Bart, but Yujin was used to such treatment. He chewed mechanically, his expression blank.

TL/N: Hello my dear readers. I picked up a new novel and I hope you guys will enjoy it. The MC is YujIn or Eugene. I wasn’t sure what name to use fir him cuz none of the name in this novel looked normal so I had gone with my first translation. I hope you guys will understand. Enjoy!!