81
Traces on the River
Around noon, the snow that had scattered through the morning finally eased.When the wind fell still, the frozen river revealed its body.The pale ice carried a faint silver sheen, and wherever the current still lived beneath, it cried thinly.
That was when the vanguard raised a hand in signal."Over here. Footprints."
Everyone reined in and approached with care.Along the riverbank, tracks ran in disorder—human tracks.Between them were the prints of animals.
Hwang Hyun-pil knelt to examine them."Three… no, closer to four."He lifted his head."Less than two days old. The snow hasn't covered them."
Park Seong-jin asked,"They crossed the river?"
"They did."Hwang Hyun-pil pointed toward the ice."It's thin. Be careful."
Three scouts stepped onto the ice first.At once, a sharp, short sound cut the air—jik—.Fine cracks spread like spiderwebs.The sound rode the wind and stretched long.
Everyone held their breath.
If it breaks, you die.
Park Seong-jin followed, his bow slung over his shoulder.The moment his foot touched the ice, a low, drawn-out moan rose from below—the sound of water flowing beneath the ice.Like a living beast, slowly writhing.
"Watch your footing," Hwang Hyun-pil said quietly."The thin parts won't hold even an inch."
They moved forward, almost without breathing.When they reached the middle of the river, Park Seong-jin stopped.
"Wait."
At his raised hand, everyone froze.He leaned carefully and peered beneath the ice.
Below the clear surface, a dark shape wavered.At first it looked like a stone.But when the wind brushed past, it shifted—slightly.
A man.
More precisely, a corpse trapped beneath the ice.
The eyes and mouth were frozen open, fear fixed on the face at the final moment.Hair spread like ripples, caught within the ice.
Park Seong-jin spoke low."A soldier. Looks like he fell in while crossing."
One scout crouched and tapped the ice.Jjaeng—A thin crack spread at once.
Everyone retreated quickly.Hwang Hyun-pil shook his head."Don't touch it. If we do, everything breaks."
Park Seong-jin withdrew his gaze in silence."They've already crossed."
Hwang Hyun-pil's eyes darkened."Then this isn't reconnaissance."He stared across the river."This isn't a simple crossing. There's something they didn't tell us."
Just then, the wind rose.From the forest beyond the river, a faint thread of smoke lifted—very thin, trembling like a human breath.
It looked as though it were calling.
Park Seong-jin raised his empty bow and aimed in that direction.But nothing appeared.Only stillness remained.
The low murmur of water beneath the ice filled the world.
Hwang Hyun-pil gave the order."We pull back. Report first. This is the beginning."
The soldiers withdrew with care.The ice beneath their feet creaked and sang—a sound like the breath of something about to wake.
Park Seong-jin looked back at the river one last time.The body beneath the ice flashed silver in the sunlight.
In that moment, he knew it clearly.This river was no longer a boundary.Someday, it might open as a battlefield—with blood.
About half an hour after crossing back, the scouting party set camp beneath a low ridge.Each time the horses' frozen hooves struck the ground, a tok, tok sound rang out—as if ice were breaking from within.The wind slipped through those cracks and split apart.
The scouts soon scattered in all directions—to the fields, the hills, the valleys—running as though chasing hidden traces.
Park Seong-jin watched them for a moment, then asked,"What are they searching for so frantically?"
Oh Jin-cheol adjusted his bowstring and replied,"Who knows. You'd think they were looking for a dog to roast."He snorted softly."Red Turban remnants, Napsi scouts, Northern Yuan outriders…They roam around without knowing what they're looking for.Just trying to look busy, is all."
After a brief silence, Park Seong-jin said,"Do you remember the one under the ice?"
"I do."
"There was a red sash."
Oh Jin-cheol's eyebrow twitched."So, Red Turbans."
"Yes. He hadn't decayed.Maybe because he died in the cold—even under the ice, his form was intact.He drifted for a while beneath the surface, then was carried away…but I saw it clearly."
"Hard to say if that's good news or bad,"Oh Jin-cheol exhaled briefly."At least what we're hunting… is still alive."
Before long, they chose a place to halt.
A soldier's time was always waiting.The hours of stillness were longer than the hours of movement.Battle was a moment—yet for that moment, most of the day was spent in readiness.
Oh Jin-cheol pointed toward a snow-covered valley."That'll do."
It was a sunny slope, ringed by low hills on all sides.Sunlight settled gently, snow lay thin.Below it, rocks and dry grass showed faintly through.
Park Seong-jin said without thought,"Would make a fine burial site, too."
Oh Jin-cheol laughed gruffly."Right. Why is it every spot I pick that it looks like an eumtaek—a resting place for the dead?"
"Means you'll live long," Park Seong-jin said.
"If you pick your grave while still alive,"Oh Jin-cheol snorted,"the ghosts must be pleased."
Just then, the youngest scout sprang to his feet."I'll go."
Checking the ground usually fell to the youngest,but this time he stepped forward first.
Park Seong-jin tilted his head, watching his back.If there was such a thing as an unseen order,I should have been next.It should have been my turn—yet he moved first.
From afar, his footprints faded into the snow.A small flag fluttered faintly in the wind.
Thinking too much was no good.
After a moment, Park Seong-jin seized his reins."I'll circle the other side."
Oh Jin-cheol asked, concern in his voice,"You sure?"
"I'm fine."
Dohyeon was out with his injury,and only three remained now.
Park Seong-jin planted a flag in the snow.A strip of red silk flapped in the wind—the banner of the Second Unit, Sungui Army.
Even those with nothing to do would move with this flag as their reference.This was the center.When the scouts returned, they would measure their position by it.
He slung his bow over his shoulder and headed opposite the path the scout had taken.Snow crunched beneath his feet.The white world spread without end.
Far off, where field and mountain met, a thin veil of mist rose.The world was too quiet.Only his own breathing and the sound of snow beneath his steps remained.
Within that stillness, Park Seong-jin felt a clear premonition.
There is something here.Somewhere in this white world—a movement that has not yet revealed itself.
Red Turbans (홍건적)A large-scale rebel movement that emerged in late Yuan China, composed largely of displaced peasants and religious militias.Though once a revolutionary force, by this point many have fragmented into remnants, bandit groups, or mercenary fighters, moving independently across borders.
Northern Yuan (북원)The remnant regime of the Yuan dynasty after its fall in China, centered in the Mongolian steppe.Though weakened, Northern Yuan forces still maintain scouts and raiding parties, exerting pressure along frontier regions and playing regional powers against one another.