Delicate C6

Chapter 6 

“……”

Their eyes remained locked as Mokjin once again pressed his lips to the backs of Dam Yun’s clasped hands. They were rough, calloused hands—scarred from wielding bows and spears.

The warmth in Mokjin’s gaze and the intimacy of his touch went far beyond the affection one might show a cherished younger sibling or a trusted subordinate.

Lately, whenever he met the Prince, Dam Yun found an uncomfortable feeling stirring inside him.

Who wouldn’t be happy to be treasured by someone?

Especially when that person was his lord—the one who had shown him unparalleled favour, bestowed precious gifts upon him, acknowledged his worth, and sworn an oath of trust.

He should have felt nothing but joy and gratitude.

Yet instead…

He felt uneasy, and alongside it came an inexplicable sense of guilt. He could no longer understand his own heart.

“It’s already time to send you away. What a tragedy… No, stay just a little longer. I truly hate letting you go.”

The Prince whispered softly.

Although his discomfort lingered and his eyes instinctively wandered elsewhere, Dam Yun still nodded.

Even though his behaviour bordered on disrespect toward someone of such high status, Mokjin’s expression remained as bright and gentle as ever. Throughout the entire time, he continued stroking Dam Yun, kissing his shoulders and arms.

“My lovely, pitiful little wolf. Think of nothing else. You need only remain in my embrace.”

“……”

“I’m already longing for tomorrow. Don’t be late. During the coming Mansin Festival, you’ll truly belong in my arms. From morning until night… and even until dawn, we’ll stay together. Dance the Wolryeop Dance for me, won’t you?”

His voice, as passionate as the moonlit dance itself, poured against Dam Yun’s neck.

The jade beads hanging from the Prince’s official crown softly rattled together, producing a delicate sound that somehow tightened the listener’s breath.

Dam Yun stood frozen within those gentle hands.

After surviving death hundreds of times on battlefields filled with spears and swords…

This was the first warmth he had received since his mother’s death.

Once again—

Chrrk.

The beads softly clicked together.

That’s right.

Thanks to the Prince, he would finally be able to leave the frontier behind.

That thought clung to him like heavy chains.

Hadn’t the Prince promised him just today?

If he could endure only another fifteen days, he would escape the Dam Clan forever and live the rest of his life in peace.

He was fortunate that the person who cherished him possessed such overwhelming power.

Just as he always did whenever they reunited after a long separation, Mokjin spent a long while gently stroking Dam Yun.

Feeling like nothing more than a fox borrowing a tiger’s authority, Dam Yun forced his tense shoulders to straighten.

That fragile, uncertain confidence warmed his heart like embers that might die out at any moment.

The Next Day

The following day, Dam Yun once again argued with General Tae.

Although he managed to postpone the military campaign by only a single day, his heart remained restless.

Unable to settle his thoughts, he went to visit his old mentor, Elder Bok.

The elderly man, leaning on his cane, was taking a leisurely walk beneath the afternoon sun in the middle of the Eastern Gate district.

“Master!”

When Dam Yun called out, Elder Bok slowly limped over.

The thin, gaunt old man had an appearance as weathered as dried leaves. Perched atop his head sat a tiny owl that looked like a bundle of fallen autumn leaves carelessly piled together.

It was Jjori, the little scops owl he raised.

Even though Dam Yun had saved its life only yesterday, the forgetful bird acted as though it didn’t recognise him at all, refusing even to make eye contact.

According to old folklore, scops owls were said to predict the harvest.

When the coming year promised abundance, they supposedly cried:

“Sot-jeok-da, Sot-jeok-da.”

But when famine approached, they cried:

“So-jjeok, So-jjeok.”

As far as Dam Yun was concerned, that was complete nonsense.

In all the time he had known Jjori, he had never once heard the little owl utter more than two syllables.

 

“Your disciple greets you, Master. Is your leg feeling any better?”

Ever since Elder Bok had first appeared in the village where Dam Yun lived more than ten years ago, one of his legs had been crippled. Whenever thoughtless children mocked the way he walked, he would proudly boast that even the legendary Primordial Qilin had been missing one hoof.

Lately, however, his limp had grown noticeably worse.

“I’m fine. I said I’m fine.”

When Dam Yun tried to support him, Elder Bok waved him away.

Elder Bok had been Dam Yun’s teacher ever since his village days.

One day, an eccentric old crippled man had settled on the outskirts of the village. The adults regarded any outsider as nothing more than a swindler, but the village children believed Elder Bok who could wield every kind of weapon and was skilled in spirit arts to be a hidden master living in seclusion.

Dam Yun had been especially drawn to him. For an entire year, he attended to the old man, persistently begging to be accepted as his disciple until Elder Bok finally agreed.

Now, the master whose face he had seen for even longer than that of his mother—who had died when he was young—was the one to whom Dam Yun entrusted his true feelings.

“Master… your disciple has something weighing on his heart. I want to settle down now. Even if killing is done to protect the people, I don’t want to take lives anymore.”

“Cutting down dried-up ghosts hardly counts as slaughter.”

Ignoring his master’s muttered remark, Dam Yun continued.

“Yesterday, His Highness the Prince promised that I would soon be able to leave the military camp. But before that happens, I’ll still have to lead the soldiers under General Tae’s orders… into battle against the evil spirits. The life I’ve long wished for is finally within reach, so why does my heart feel so unsettled?”

“Because you’re too greedy.”

“You want to protect yourself… and you also want to protect the soldiers under your command.”

The old master grumbled.

Dam Yun blinked and sighed.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“What have I always taught you? What did I tell you to do in times like these?”

“…Think very, very hard?”

As a child, Dam Yun had been infamous throughout the village for being reckless.

Whenever he bounded around like a baby monkey causing trouble everywhere he went, Elder Bok would hook him by the back of the collar with his walking stick and scold him countless times:

“Think carefully before you act! Think very carefully!”

Lately, however, no matter how deeply Dam Yun searched his own heart, he could reach no clear conclusion. That was why he kept coming back to seek his master’s advice.

At this point, isn’t this less “thinking hard” and more “letting my master think for me”…?

He decided that was a question for another day.

“Wrong!”

The old man’s eyes flashed beneath his drooping eyelids.

The little scops owl perched on his shoulder also widened its huge yellow eyes. Since each eye opened at a slightly different speed, the bird somehow managed to look even uglier than before.

“‘Thinking carefully’ is for when you’re deciding whether to jump into a river—when you still have choices. But you’ve already been swept away, not by a river, but by the open sea! Now then… what did I teach you to do in a situation like that?”

The old man urged him to find the answer himself.

Since Dam Yun had literally been swept away by a current the previous day, he hesitated before suddenly remembering.

“‘Grow a hairy conscience?'”

“‘Not a hairy conscience—a hairy heart!’ You must become shameless enough that hair could grow on your very heart!”

“…Then… are you saying I should abandon my soldiers?”

With his hands clasped behind his back, the master slowly shook his head.

It wasn’t clearly agreed…

Nor was it disagreed.

“Everyone encounters times when they cannot resist the tide of fate—whether a humble farmer or a king. Even if one must grow a hairy heart, a person must first preserve their own life if they are to survive an age of chaos.”

“Yes… a hairy conscie— I mean… a hairy heart.”

“Yeori.”

Ever since long ago, Elder Bok had affectionately called Dam Yun “Yeori”—a nickname reflecting his nature as someone who was said to be half fox and half wolf.

Hearing the familiar nickname after so long, the tension in Dam Yun’s eyes softened.

The old man continued gently,

“Haven’t I always told you to restrain your monkey’s heart? I’ve said it again and again—you are not a monkey. You are a fox and a wolf. Live simply and honestly. Never let your heart leap around like a monkey.”

The more he listened to what sounded like a scolding but was truly guidance, the more the turmoil within Dam Yun gradually settled.

Even if he had already been swept into the vast sea…

Even if he had yet to grow that “hairy heart”…

His master’s words were like a distant guiding lantern appearing in the darkness.

Maybe I really have been letting my master do all the thinking for me, Dam Yun mused fondly.

Looking warmly at his teacher, he said quietly,

“Master…please live a long life.”

“Bah! Stop talking as though you’re already standing at my grave! Worry about your own heart instead. Hmph! Are you planning to keep trailing after this old man again?”

“Come on. Let me help you walk.”

“Go visit Miseol instead! Ease his loneliness for a change!”

Elder Bok pretended to swing his cane at him, but Dam Yun merely grinned and escorted the old man as far as the South Gate.

“Hoot.“

The little scops owl, which—no matter how one looked at it—could only cry in two syllables, disappeared into the distance along with its master.

Miseol was Dam Yun’s concubine.

More precisely, he was the male concubine of the Cheongwi (Heavenly Noble).

Two years before Dam Yun was appointed as Bangryeong, Miseol had been brought to the frontier together with a group of condemned prisoners.

The crime for which he had been sentenced was an infamous one:

“As a man, he shared intimate relations with other men, causing countless scandals and disturbances.”

In the capital, he had been branded with the notorious nickname “Young Master Mi.”

The ill-mannered soldiers had no intention of leaving someone like Miseol alone.

Since Dam Yun himself had once endured similar harassment, he kept a close eye on the situation.

Yet within half a day, trouble broke out.

“I beg you… please take me in as your concubine.”

His long hair had been torn loose in disarray, yet somehow he had escaped unharmed. Kneeling before Dam Yun’s residence, Young Master Mi made his plea.

No matter how arrogant the soldiers were, they barely dared breathe in Dam Yun’s presence.

It was obvious that Miseol hoped becoming Dam Yun’s concubine would ensure his safety.

“No.”

Naturally, Dam Yun refused.

Instead, he watched over Miseol personally and severely punished the soldiers responsible for the disturbance.

The one who raised the matter again was Mokjin.

“Since he would merely be registered under your household, it wouldn’t mean he was truly your concubine. If you genuinely wish to protect this lone wolf called Miseol, making him your male concubine is the most practical solution.”

In the end, persuaded by Mokjin’s words, Dam Yun accepted Miseol as his nominal male concubine.

After that, all the disturbances ceased.

For that reason, Miseol came to live in the same residence as Dam Yun.

Even after they both transferred to the Sanggok Fortress two months earlier, the arrangement remained unchanged.

Walking home beneath the gathering dusk, Dam Yun returned to his quarters.

He picked up a small meal tray from the kitchen himself before opening the door to the inner room.

“Miseol?”

Although it was not yet even early evening, the room was as dark as midnight.

Recently, Dam Yun had become worried because Miseol seemed to spend every day asleep.

Walking over to the bed, he immediately pulled away the thick blanket.

“Even bears and frogs that hibernate sleep less than you do. I heard you skipped your meals as well.”

Through the tangled curtain of long white hair, Miseol wore an unusual expression.

Had he been having a pleasant dream?

A faint trace of resistance and an inexplicable sense of relief lingered together in his half-awake eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“…It’s nothing.”

Smiling faintly, Miseol allowed Dam Yun to pull him upright.

As the lid of the meal tray was lifted, the comforting aroma of hot meat soup and freshly cooked rice filled the room.

While Miseol quietly ate, Dam Yun sat beside him and deliberately told cheerful stories.

He recounted amusing incidents from the military camp and even retold scenes from The Chronicle of the Divine Beasts and the Calamity, the novel his mother used to read to him when he was a child.

“Despite possessing such extraordinary martial skill… you certainly have a great deal of free time.”

After wiping his mouth with a cloth, Miseol abruptly ended the meaningless conversation.

“Was it boring? I was only trying to cheer you up.”

“It will soon be Yusi.”

Miseol set the tray aside and rose from the bed.

Opening the tightly shut window, cool, crisp night air drifted into the room together with the darkness.

“You’ll be late. If you wish to tell entertaining stories… it would be better to tell them to the master of the Moon Palace.”

He was referring indirectly to Prince Mokjin.

With a quiet sigh, Miseol lowered his voice even further.

“He’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Lately, Dam Yun had been checking on Miseol every morning and evening.

Earlier that morning, he had mentioned that he had gone to pay his respects to the Prince.

Perhaps because Dam Yun had confessed that it had originally been Mokjin’s wish to take Miseol in, Miseol held the Prince in especially high regard.

Then again, who wouldn’t treat such an exalted prince with the utmost respect?

“Surely… you don’t dislike going?”

As Dam Yun hesitated, the light in Miseol’s eyes dimmed.

Reluctantly, Dam Yun stood.

“Of course not.”

The small oil lamp they had lit finally burned out.

Only moonlight filtered through the window lattice, leaving the room submerged in darkness.

Neither of them could see the other’s face anymore.

After a long moment of silence, Dam Yun finally spoke.

“How could that be? I… enjoy seeing him too.”

Footnotes

1. Yusi (酉時) – A traditional East Asian time period, approximately 5:00–7:00 p.m.