82
Reconnaissance
So-called reconnaissance is the freest of times.In a battlefield ruled by orders—go when told to go, stop when told to stop—this is the one moment when I decide everything myself.It's all right to be a little late.In the report, the same sentence is always written.
— No unusual activity observed.
That does not mean we failed to find the enemy.It means the enemy has not yet found us.We are not the ones who confirm;we are always the ones who may be confirmed first.
I moved slowly across the snow-covered plain.Color had vanished from the world—only white and gray remained.No wind. No birdsong.At times like this, freedom is what I feel most clearly.No orders. No regulations.I exist only as a single breath, a point of being.
Then it happened.
Far off, beyond the opposite ridge, something felt wrong.A sensation difficult to put into words—the presence of something warm that did not belong on this frozen land.
My body reacted first.I drew the reins and turned slowly in a wide arc.Toward the direction Soon-gun had gone.
There was something there.I didn't know what exactly, but I sensed that something was about to happen.The ridge itself had already been swept by the vanguard.If there was a gap, it would be below it.
At that moment, Soon-gun burst out of the snowstorm.He was running without even a glance behind him.
"What—"
Park Seong-jin drove his heels into the horse.The face rushing toward him was unfamiliar.It was not the face of a trained soldier.He was fleeing like a child chased by a village dog.
His eyes were rolled back, meaningless groans spilling from his mouth.
"Enemy! Enemy!"
With that cry, the world slowed.
From afar, Oh Jin-cheol charged in with his spear.Soon-gun stumbled, fleeing the other way.Every scene froze like a painted scroll.
"Help me! Please—help!"
That sound proved he was not yet a soldier.He must have come here after losing his parents.With Uncle Oh Jin-cheol nearby, he had played at being an adult—but inside, he was still a child.
Park Seong-jin heard the sound of that fragile indifference shattering all at once.
He did not hesitate.
He pressed his heel into the horse's flank.The horse leapt, kicking snow.The hand on the reins shook, but his body was already leaning forward.
Drawing a bow while riding had long since been etched into his body.Before thought could catch up, his hand was already moving.
The string was nocked.And in that instant, time split again.
In the direction Soon-gun pointed, black figures burst from the snowstorm—each image separating, entering his vision one by one.
A suspended moment.
Shoulders.Spearpoints.A horse's ear flicking.
There was no sound yet.Only presence—warm breath, wet leather, and unmistakable killing intent.
"Enemy! Enemy!"
The first arrow—he did not aim it.Before the thought of aiming could form, his field of vision had already converged on a single point.
The center wavered slightly atop the horse,but even that sway was within calculation.
Inhale—a brief stillness—pa.
He released without emotion.Tuk.The sensation left his fingertips.
In that brief instant, he saw the arrow's path—a line cleaving the air, snowflakes slipping aside.
Then—
Thud.
The sound came late.First, one body snapped backward.Feet kicked the air.The spear flew from the hand.One beat before it hit the snow—
he was already seeing the next.
Second arrow.
This time, the breath of the running horse and the breath of the arrow aligned.At the moment the hooves struck the ground, his upper body locked—a slit of stillness opened.
He did not miss it.
Tuk—thud.
This time, sound and impact arrived almost together.Where it struck was unclear—blood burst like a snow squall.Red dots scattered across the white plain.
He did not count.He only felt that one empty space had increased.
Then Oh Jin-cheol arrived.
His spear turned in a wide arc.The wind split.The technique was rough, but the rotation drew a clear line.
Between the enemy and Soon-gun, an invisible wall formed.
— Do not come past here.
What they saw was not technique.It was movement that allowed no hesitation.
They faltered.That single beat—and in that beat, Soon-gun lived.
Park Seong-jin drew again.This time, they were closer.
He could see the whites of the charging horse's eyes.Breath burst from its nostrils.The horse's head bobbed violently—
he caught the middle of that motion.
Third arrow.
He stopped breathing.The world went quiet again.Snowfall, shouts, hoofbeats—all vanished.
Only the tension of the bowstring remained in his fingertips.
Tuk.
The arrow drove beneath the horse's neck.
The next moment, the horse screamed.Its body buckled sideways and collapsed.The rider was flung into the air.
That impact shattered the formation.Alignment broke. Directions tangled.
It was over.
They showed their backs.
Oh Jin-cheol's spear strikes broke them apart.Park Seong-jin's covering fire pinned the ones trying to flee.
He did not stop.
Running, nocking, releasing—again and again.This time there was no calculation, no observation.The width of a fleeing back, the rhythm of staggered steps—all of it had already become familiar targets.
Thwuk—thud.Thwuk—thud.
Arrows streaked through the snowstorm like lightning.Two more fell.
Sound always came last.Falling came first.
At last, the plain grew quiet.What remained was blood—and ice breathing out steam.
Park Seong-jin reined in his horse.Only then did he exhale.
The air that had been frozen moments before now felt hot.The breath entering his lungs stung.
He lifted his head and looked at Soon-gun.
Alive.
That was enough.