The night was not over, yet it was no longer pure night.
It was something between darkness and mist, between stillness and exhaustion.
Saō Hyun was walking.
He did not know how long it had been since he had climbed up from the bottom of the ravine, nor how many steps he had taken. Time was no longer days or hours to him, but breaths.
A breath… then another… then a short pause… then a harder breath.
His broken foot no longer hurt the way it did at first.
Not because the pain was gone, but because it had become his whole body.
He dragged it behind him, as if it no longer belonged to him.
Something heavy. Dead. Refusing to follow.
He fell.
He did not scream.
He did not try to get up at once.
He fell the way things fall when no one is waiting for them.
He lay on his back and looked up at the sky between the branches.
The stars were pale.
As if they, too, were tired.
Do stars feel?
Do they hurt when they fall?
He did not know.
He did not think much anymore.
He was just… thirsty.
His mouth was dry, his tongue heavy, his throat burning.
He opened his mouth to wet his lips and found nothing.
Even tears no longer came.
He stood up again.
Not because he wanted to,
but because the ground was colder than he could bear.
He began to sway as he walked.
Two straight steps… then a drift to the side.
The world around him became unstable, as if it moved slowly, then stopped all at once.
He saw a tree… or thought he did.
He went closer.
It was not a tree.
It was only a shadow.
He laughed a short, soundless laugh.
Why am I laughing?
Is this funny?
No one answered.
Hunger began to bite.
Not sharp hunger, but slow, sly hunger that makes the body collapse inward without screaming.
He felt his stomach tighten.
He put his hand over it.
He said softly,
"I'm hungry…"
He said it the way a child states something obvious, without complaint.
He looked around.
The ground was full of things whose names he did not know.
Plants. Leaves. Branches. Roots.
All of them looked the same.
Then he saw the mushrooms.
They grew near the trunk of an old tree.
Whitish, leaning toward gray. Small. Fragile.
He stopped.
Looked at them for a long time.
Are they edible?
He did not know.
He remembered something far away…
A servant, once, while cooking, had said:
"Don't eat everything you see… some things kill you slowly."
He hesitated.
He sat down.
Moved closer.
Touched a mushroom with his finger.
Cold.
Its smell was strange.
He thought, with the mind of a child who knew no choices:
If I don't eat, I will die.
If I eat, I might die.
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said:
"Death is the same…"
He did not finish the sentence.
He tore off a small piece.
Looked at it.
His hand trembled.
He put it into his mouth.
Chewed slowly.
The taste was bitter.
It made his eyes water.
He almost threw up.
But he swallowed.
He waited.
He sat.
Nothing happened.
He swallowed another piece.
Then a third.
His stomach clenched, but the hunger eased a little.
Not fullness…
just quiet.
He lay down.
Stared at the sky again.
Will I die now?
Or later?
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he was not sure how much time had passed.
It might have been minutes…
it might have been hours.
The hunger returned, weaker.
The thirst was stronger.
He stood.
Took one step…
then fell to his knees.
This time he fell hard.
His knees struck the ground, his chest bent forward.
He stayed like that.
No movement.
No sound.
His eyes were open…
but unfocused.
As if something inside him had gone out.
He was breathing, but the breath was thin, broken.
If someone had passed by, they would have thought him a body not yet buried.
In his head…
there were no thoughts.
Only emptiness.
No fear.
No hope.
No wanting.
Even crying was no longer possible.
He stayed still.
A long time.
A very long time.
Then…
He shuddered.
Not from cold.
But because something inside him refused.
He did not know what it was.
But his body moved a little.
He lifted his head.
His eyes were red, swollen, as if they no longer wished to see.
He said, barely audible:
"No…"
I don't know why.
I don't know how.
But no.
He put his hand on the ground.
Pushed.
Stood up slowly.
He stood swaying.
The world moved again, but without clear shapes.
The trees were only lines.
The ground only a feeling beneath his foot.
He was walking…
because if he stopped, he would fall.
And he knew, somewhere vague inside him:
If I fall now… I will not get up.
He began to speak to himself.
Not aloud.
But in broken whispers.
"One step… just one step…"
Then, after a moment:
"Don't sleep…"
Then:
"If I sleep… I won't wake up…"
He stumbled.
Almost fell.
He clung to the trunk of a tree.
Held it.
Felt its roughness.
Its cold.
As if it were alive.
He said to it:
"Don't leave me…"
He did not know why he said it.
He let go.
Walked on.
His feet began to betray him.
The left barely moved.
The right grew heavy.
His head spun.
He heard a soft ringing in his ears.
Is that a sound?
Or my head?
He laughed again.
A short, broken laugh.
"I'm walking… but I'm not arriving."
He did not know where.
But one thought remained steady:
Away from the palace.
That was enough.
And suddenly…
He stopped.
Not because he wanted to.
But because his ears caught something strange.
A sound.
Not wind.
Not an animal.
A regular sound.
A step…
then another.
He froze.
His heart began to pound hard, as if it wanted to run away by itself.
Are they…?
He did not know who.
But the sound was clear.
Feet.
Human feet.
They came closer.
And closer.
Saō Hyun stood in the darkness, his body rigid, his breath held, his eyes widening despite the exhaustion.
He did not know whether to be glad…
or afraid.
But one thing was clear:
He was not alone anymore.