60
Snow fell again.Overnight, it settled thickly across the walls and the roofs of the barracks.The air at dawn was cold, and instead of flames, white breath filled the alleys.
Park Seong-jin returned to the barracks.Passing through the gate, it felt strangely unreal that only days ago this place had been thick with blood and smoke.The dark red stains that once covered the ground lay buried beneath the snow, leaving only blotched stone and quiet people behind.
The soldiers no longer carried swords.They held shovels and brooms instead.There was less talk, and strength drained first.Small groans—hng, ngh—escaped here and there.
The sound of fitting broken armor rings back together.The faint metallic whisper of spearheads touched to whetstones.The low, breathing murmur of barley porridge simmering in cauldrons.Those sounds lingered in the chest longer than any battlefield roar.
Park Seong-jin sat astride a pile of firewood.In his hands was a broken spear shaft.As he slowly shaved it down, he spoke.
"So… the fighting is really over now, isn't it?"
Oh Jin-cheol, back from seeing the physician, answered without lifting his head.
"Probably.But it doesn't feel like it's over."
A shallow smile touched his lips.
"They say there's no labor today. We're to rest for a day."
Park Seong-jin set the spear shaft down.
"That's a surprise. If they tell us to rest, I suppose we should."
After a brief pause, he added,
"But… I don't know what to do when I rest."
Do-hyeon spoke while staring into empty space.
"Before, surviving was the whole day.Now, being alive itself feels unfamiliar."
Park Seong-jin closed his eyes.It was the sensation left behind in those who had skirted the edge of death.Before that intensity, the senses of ordinary life struggled to take hold.
The wind blew softly.A few snowflakes settled on his shoulder, melted by body heat, and vanished.
"Being alive is something you have to learn, too.If you've learned how to fight, then now you learn how to endure."
Do-hyeon let out a short laugh.
"Enduring, too? That's study as well?"
"Yes."
Park Seong-jin nodded.
"Only those who live all the way through ever learn it."
Just then, a drum sounded in the distance.It was not the drum that called for battle.Nor was it clear what it announced.
The soldiers rose and moved slowly.Life went on that way, quietly.Where the smell of blood had faded, the scent of soup spread.
Park Seong-jin climbed the rampart and looked up at the sky.
The sky over Liaoyang was strikingly clear.The wind was cold, carrying with it the memory of burned stone and of people.Toward the northern steppe, faint smoke was still rising.
He stood there for a long while.
From far off came the sound of soldiers laughing.It felt new, and at the same time very old.
People cooked again.Smoke rose, pots boiled, spoons moved.
Park Seong-jin breathed the smell in deeply.Today was a day it was allowed to be here.
Nothing happened.The wind blew, and the courtyard before the barracks lay evenly covered in snow.One soldier set down a water jar, another passed by with a laugh.
That was all.
Park Seong-jin meant to split firewood.He lifted the axe and set it on the log.It was a familiar motion—something he had done dozens, no, hundreds of times.
But just before bringing it down, his hand trembled.
Not violently.So slight that, had anyone noticed, they might have blamed the wind.For a moment, the certainty that the axe would strike true vanished.Park Seong-jin froze.
He drew in a breath.There was no smell.No fire, no blood, no smoke.Yet the inside of his palm turned cold,as if he had been gripping iron for a long time.
"…."
He set the axe down.Unnecessarily, he pulled off his glove and looked at the back of his hand.There were no wounds.No blood, nothing broken.It was fine.
And yet, it still trembled.
Slowly, he clenched and unclenched his hand.Deliberately—like issuing an order to his own body.It did not obey.
Then it happened.Without warning, an image flashed through his mind.
— a collapsing wall— fire surging upward— a drum sounding from somewhere— and a moment so close he could not tell whether he was alive or dead
He clenched his teeth.
"Not now."
The words never left his mouth.But his hand already knew.His body had not yet left the battlefield.
Park Seong-jin did not pick up the axe again.Instead, he clenched his fist and pressed it against his thigh.
The trembling eased a little.Not completely.That was what frightened him more.
That the fight was over,and that he had not died,were not things the body followed immediately.
The hands remembered first,while the mind lagged behind.
Park Seong-jin stood there for a long time,until the breath that fell onto the snow slowly disappeared.
Someone called out.
"Seong-jin."
He looked up.It took only a brief moment to arrange his face into something ordinary.
"Yeah."
The reply sounded the same as ever.But his hand—was still trembling, just a little.
Nothing had happened.And that was why the aftereffect was so unmistakable.