Chapter 27

“Come closer.”

Huikyung speculated that Jaekani’s frequent questions were driven more by anxiety than genuine curiosity. Deciding to offer the boy the attention he seemed to need, Huikyung wondered if holding his hand as they walked might help distract him.

But whatever Jaekani interpreted from those words, his face grew tense as he approached.

Huikyung found himself reflected in Jaekani’s blue eyes. As the distance between them diminished, the sight of himself looming large in Jaekani’s gaze made him pause. How must he appear to a child subjected to neglect in the village and abuse at home?

Jaekani, his face fearful, slowly closed his eyes. His thin eyelids, faintly revealing blue veins beneath, trembled from tension.

Realizing what Jaekani’s actions implied, Huikyung’s expression twisted. He had only intended to hold the boy’s hand, a small gesture of reassurance. Yet now, a turbulent emotion surged through him.

But Huikyung’s anger wasn’t aimed at Jaekani or even himself for failing to anticipate this reaction. His fury was directed toward the villagers who had long since rotted away like decaying meat and at Jaekani’s father.

Even so, Huikyung’s turbulent emotions quickly subsided. It wasn’t maturity or control that calmed him.

It was the stark awareness that there was no one left to take out his anger on. The guilty parties were already dead and gone. What more could he do?

“Your hand.”

“Huh?”

Even with half-closed eyes, Jaekani would have accepted a slap as though it were a deserved punishment. His blue eyes, clear and sharp, met Huikyung’s gaze.

Those piercing blue eyes had always stood out, whether under the faint moonlight of damp nights or in the pitch-black stairwell of the underground prison. They shone vividly, brighter than a full moon, demanding notice.

Go on—your hand.

With that silent cue, Jaekani wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs before extending both hands. When Huikyung kept staring, the boy clenched his eyes shut and raised his hands higher.

Dwelling on the past would only feed its ghosts. The best way forward was to flee into the future without looking back.

If Huikyung started asking how Jaekani’s father had beaten him, the boy would likely flinch, stammer, and deny it. He’d insist, “No, it was my fault… I was being annoying…” and throw Huikyung’s emotions into turmoil. That wasn’t something Huikyung wanted for him.

Instead of a painful blow, Huikyung placed a few small, sweet fruits onto Jaekani’s outstretched palms. The boy opened his eyes as the tiny fruits tumbled onto his hands.

Jaekani’s fingers curled cautiously around them, cupping his hands to keep them from falling.

Then, in a sudden move, Huikyung hoisted the boy into his arms as effortlessly as a villain whisking away a princess, securing his grip under Jaekani’s legs.

“…Isn’t this heavy for you?”

Having been carried like this a few times before, Jaekani no longer seemed startled.

“Of course it is. You’re getting fat.”

Jaekani flushed all the way to his neck and squirmed to be put down, but Huikyung only smiled faintly and held him steady. As Jaekani eventually relaxed, his head came to rest on Huikyung’s shoulder. He raised his thin arms and wrapped them loosely around Huikyung’s neck.

The boy who had squirmed just moments ago had now grown quiet.

Crunch, crunch.

The sound of the boy biting into the fruits—seeds and all—popped faintly near Huikyung’s ear, the small noises teasing his senses like ripples across a still pond.

“Sure, eat the seeds. It’ll help you grow faster.”

Huikyung kept walking.

While Jaekani ate, he pressed his cheek against Huikyung’s shoulder. Even after finishing, he continued to lean there. Though his cheek cushioned Huikyung’s shoulder slightly, the weight still made the sharpness of his jaw ache faintly. When Jaekani chuckled softly, Huikyung nudged his head, feigning annoyance. Jaekani’s head slid down to Huikyung’s collarbone, but he wiggled it back into place like a snail and rested it on the opposite side.

The sky above was a deep blue dotted with clouds. Even within the confines of the tall village walls, the sky looked clear and transparent. Relaxing into the steady rhythm of Huikyung’s breathing, Jaekani felt sleep pressing on him.

‘If you’re going to be mad, just go!’

The memory of that sharp outburst still echoed in his mind, but the warmth he felt now was calm and reassuring.

“Let me down.”

Even as his eyelids drooped heavily, Jaekani murmured a request to be let down.

Huikyung glanced at the boy and tilted his head slightly, as if to say, “Just sleep.” But Jaekani shook his head stubbornly, fighting off the drowsiness.

“Let me down. Please.”

“Jaekani.”

Huikyung sighed, a laugh hidden in the exhale.

“I’m not going to leave just because I held you for a bit. So stop worrying and sleep.”

“…Oh.”

Caught off guard, Jaekani bit his lip.

He had already told Huikyung to leave twice before. Once after the village burned down, and again when Huikyung had vanished without a word after Jaekani had expressed just a little frustration.

“I already told you it was a slip of the tongue.”

“What’s a slip of the tongue?”

“A mistake. I didn’t mean it.”

“…Will you tell me next time where you’re going?”

Ah, that was a trickier question.

Still, giving a straightforward answer would likely earn him some form of retribution from Jaekani.

Instead of replying, Huikyung tapped Jaekani’s chin lightly.

Jaekani recognized this as Huikyung’s gentlest way of declining. He wouldn’t offer shallow reassurances to questions worth believing in, but Jaekani still found him maddeningly confusing.

And yet, the boy also realized that Huikyung’s honest refusal was the wisest course of action. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t suddenly make him trustworthy. In its way, Huikyung’s bluntness cultivated a strange kind of faith.

“Right. We did agree to get married, after all…”

Jaekani muttered, nodding as if convincing himself.

Huikyung was so taken aback that he almost laughed.

When did we ever agree to that?

The question hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t ask. If he started denying it now, Jaekani might suffer an irreparable blow. So Huikyung just smiled faintly to himself, finding the boy amusing.

In silence, Huikyung adjusted his hold on the boy.

As an Esper, Huikyung rarely tired. He carried Jaekani for a long time, until the unexpected occurred.

* * *

“Shh…”

Carrying Jaekani in his arms, Huikyung had been walking for some time when he picked up on faint movements in the distance. His heightened senses, a double-edged sword of being an Esper, alerted him to the presence of others. Instinctively, he halted and carefully set Jaekani down.

Pressing a finger to the boy’s lips, Huikyung silently urged him to stay quiet. He stifled his own presence as much as possible, unsure if the group had sensed him yet.

There were roughly ten of them, though whether any of them were Espers was unclear.

Not that it mattered. Unless there was a high-ranking Esper among them, Huikyung was confident he could take them down. Whether they were slavers or scavengers, it didn’t matter—he could kill them all, take what he needed, and move on. If they were freemen, perhaps a conversation would suffice.

Huikyung’s real concern was Jaekani. The boy had once sulked and ranted after Huikyung left him alone for less than ten minutes, an incident punctuated by a lighter bouncing off his forehead—a lesson Huikyung hadn’t forgotten.

“Jaekani.”

At the whisper, Jaekani gave a small nod.

Though the boy looked full of questions, Huikyung had no intention of explaining the situation or their options in detail.

Taking Jaekani’s hands, Huikyung guided him to cover his ears tightly. He made sure the boy exerted enough force to block out as much sound as possible. Following Huikyung’s lead, Jaekani complied.

Close your eyes.

Mouthing the words, Huikyung met Jaekani’s wide, questioning eyes. “Now?” they seemed to ask.

Huikyung’s glance flicked toward the dense forest ahead, tension subtly etched into his posture. That was enough for Jaekani. He didn’t protest or ask further questions.

I’ll be right back.

With a nod to reassure him, Huikyung instructed Jaekani to close his eyes and wait. The boy obeyed, crouching in place with his hands clamped tightly over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. To an outsider, he might have looked like a helpless child bracing for a disaster he had no power to stop.

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger to the boy, Huikyung rose to his feet and slipped away.
Eyes firmly closed, Jaekani held his breath. He pressed his hands over his ears so tightly that his arms began to tremble from the strain. Soon, the trembling spread to his eyelids and even his legs as he felt faint vibrations underfoot.

He knew what it was. This wasn’t an earthquake. It was the kind of tremor caused by an explosion—an experience Jaekani was sadly too familiar with.

Holding his breath, he waited for it to pass.

It wasn’t a rational thing to do.

Sitting defenseless in the open, even if hidden among thick undergrowth, was as good as giving up on survival. He could be discovered at any moment by outsiders, predators, or Creatures. And yet, Jaekani stayed where he was, ears covered, eyes shut.

Because he trusted Huikyung.

More precisely, he trusted that if Huikyung ever abandoned him, it wouldn’t be like this. It wouldn’t be some cowardly, irresponsible departure. If Huikyung were to leave him, it would be with a sharp parting remark—a “just go, then!” shouted in frustration, not a silent betrayal.

How petty and evasive Huikyung could be didn’t matter. His lightheartedness, however vexing, was a part of who he was. A person entirely devoid of sincerity would have offered comforting lies in response to Jaekani’s tentative questions.

And yet Huikyung never did.