79
Winter in the Camp — A Time When One May Rest
He ate, then fell asleep.As if he had gone without sleep for hundreds of years, he collapsed at once.When he opened his eyes, his comrades woke him, saying it was time to eat, and brought him food as though he had accomplished something great.After eating, he would sit there blankly—then fall asleep again.
Two days passed that way.Then three.They were quartered in the Liaoyang Provincial garrison camp.It was more livable than expected.Thick walls blocked the winter wind, and about half the rooms were laid with ondol floors, warm enough to be comfortable.Fetching firewood was a tedious duty, but once the cold set in, everyone went out without complaint.Thanks to that, the rooms stayed lukewarm—so much so that the bitter cold outside felt unreal.
On the evening of the third day, hunger woke him.Normally someone would have shaken him awake at mealtime, but today there was no one.The room was empty.He sat there for a while, dazed, then forced his heavy body upright.
When he opened the door, the camp lay silent.Only a few horses remained in the stables; the wagons were already gone.A single word flashed through his mind.
Deployment.
He hastily straightened his clothes and ran toward the gate.A sentry stood on the snow.The man smiled faintly.
"Wondering where everyone went?""Yes. It's too quiet.""Labor detail.""In this cold?""Food arrived from Gaegyeong. Wagons and all. Everyone was sent out to unload.""Oh…"
Not a battle.Relief.He felt foolish for having leapt to words like deployment, combat, enemy.
Park Seong-jin nodded.You won't last long.Nahaçu's words at Geumseong came back to him.But if food had arrived, things were different.
The sentry added,"Rest. You're allowed to rest.""I'm hungry."The sentry laughed and pointed toward the kitchens."Go take a look. There should be something. The women who work here will be around.""Women? You hired women?""So the soldiers can focus on fighting. Something about holding out for the long haul.""Hm…"
With his hands clasped behind his back, Park Seong-jin wandered toward the kitchen.Inside the large military cookhouse, five middle-aged women sat together, chattering like girls.Pot lids clanged, and the smell of soybean stew spread through the air.
"Excuse me… is there anything I could eat?"One sturdy woman planted a hand on her hip."Who are you?""Someone just back from afar. Park Seong-jin, Second Unit of the Sungui Army.""Ah. From under Hwang, then."
To them, Hwang Hyun-pil was simply the Hwang fellow next door."Yes."
Without a word, she filled a large earthen bowl with rice, poured meat soup over it—plenty of meat—and topped it with white baek-kimchi.
It was different from the meals he usually received in the army.Clean.Orderly.
Park Seong-jin took the bowl and devoured it at once.The hot broth slid down his throat.As his stomach warmed, the cold and fatigue that had piled up surged all at once.
He set down his spoon, stared at the empty bowl for a long while—then let his head fall.His eyelids weighed a thousand pounds.
"Child, you'll catch a cold if you sleep there."The woman's voice sounded distant—the kind of worry one might have heard back home.
Unable even to answer, Park Seong-jin fell asleep where he sat.
Firelight brushed his cheek, then slowly faded.The stew still simmered in the pot.Outside, snow was falling.
Thus, after a long stretch of battle, he sank quietly into peace.
He did not know when he had fallen asleep.When he woke from that heavy slumber, faint afternoon light seeped through the crack in the door.The fire was already out, and the room was cold.
Park Seong-jin rose.His body felt heavy, but the weight was welcome.Tension had drained away along with the fatigue.
He stepped outside without a word.
Snow drifted lightly, and the sky was dyed a blue-gray.The air of Liaoyang smelled of iron and smoke.His feet, out of habit, carried him to the training ground.
An empty space, everyone gone.Wind skimmed across the sand.
He took up his sword.
Once, he had hated training time.A place he stood only because he was ordered to.Now it was different.There was no need to search for a reason.The familiar weight in his hand already knew.
He steadied his breath and slowly set his stance.Hup. Energy gathered.Ji. The center settled.Pa. As he exhaled, the sword burst forth.
Whiiing—a short, low sound cut through the snow.The air trembled. Snowflakes scattered.
Once.Twice.Three times.
He did not stop.
With each repetition, thought thinned, leaving only the rhythm his body remembered.Breath guided the blade, and the blade returned the breath.Without conscious effort, the body moved first.Everything he had learned gathered into this single moment.
Footprints continued across the snow.Lines were drawn on the white field—then erased.
He knew this well:to truly learn something, one must do more.If others did it ten times, he had to do it a hundred.He could not do the same ten and say it didn't work.Only by spending more time, stacking more repetitions, did the body finally change—that was something he had already lived through.
So he added more.Silently.Steadily.
Before long, his fingertips warmed.Blood flowed, breath rose, yet his mind stayed clear.Each time the blade cut the air, a short tak rang out.
How much time had passed?Just as the heat in his body began to settle, voices murmured in the distance.His comrades returning.
Only then did he stop.White steam rose from the tip of the sword in his hand.He drew a slow breath.The whole world felt clear and firm.
A moment later, Hwang Hyun-pil's voice carried on the wind.
"Park Seong-jin! Practicing already?"
Sheathing his sword, he answered briefly."Yes. I'm not there yet."
Laughter drifted back."Not there yet? That rice is fully cooked. You're doing fine."
Park Seong-jin smiled faintly.
Then he took up the sword again.Adjusted his stance once more.
The study was not finished.And his body knew that before his mind did.