95
Snow began to fall again.It was impossible to tell when it had started.
It was the third day since leaving Yoyang.The ice beneath the horses' hooves was still hard.Each step rang out with a sharp, brittle sound—like someone's short breath catching in the cold.
Park Seong-jin moved without thinking, following the person ahead of him.
There was no fear of battle now, and no tension to speak of.As long as his strength held for the long march, that was enough.He did not consider who was leading, nor where they were headed.Stepping into the footprints ahead, placing his foot over them again,aligning his shadow with the next—that became the day.
In the snowstorm, the world lost its color.The boundary between sky and ground blurred,and even human forms faded.
Between them, horses exhaled.White breath rose briefly, then dissolved.That movement—proof of life—felt strangely distant.
At night, they did not light fires.Even when the wind blew, even when sand ground between their teeth,they lay low in silence.
They set aside most thoughtsand focused only on enduring.
When he heard the snoring of the person beside him,even that sound brought a sense of ease.It was proof that this moment was being crossed.
One day, he nearly slipped from his horse.His eyes were open, but his vision kept blurring.Drowsiness rolled over him in waves.
In that moment, memories surfaced—fields back home, his mother's voice,himself before the war.
Those scenes were always warm.But when he opened his eyes, his fingertips were cold.
Along the roadside lay traces of burned villages.Bricks half collapsed.Charred pillars still standing.
Beside them, melted snow pooled into muddy water.People said such places were warm.
Park Seong-jin stepped forward and pressed his foot into it.The sensation came immediately—cold, and unmistakably clear.
Baegin-gun rode ahead at a steady pace.His back was straight, his horse's breathing even.
Each day, a red sunset hung behind him.He never looked back.
A thought passed through Park Seong-jin.Had this man already finished his return?His body was on this snowy road,yet his mind seemed to have crossed beyond the war.
Would I be like that one day?Living on while carrying that time in my body,even after the fighting had vanished?
With that thought, the weight of the sword at his side grew distinct.It was not a weapon—it was the sensation of standing here, now.
The wind blew.Snow scattered.A horse cried out in the distance.
Someone said quietly,
"Yodong is over."
Inside, Park Seong-jin felt something different.Yodong had settled within him as a single span of time.
That time had passed through him,yet remained within his steps.
The commander-in-chief moved southwith only a small guard and a unit of crossbowmen.The remaining forces stayed behind at Yoyang Fortressto administer the occupied territory.
Even the sound of hooves was swallowed by the snow.Only breath connected the procession.
That day, Park Seong-jin noticed several of the black-clad warriorshe had seen at the South Gatewalking beside the commander.
They were people he had brought with him—beings who seemed specially summoned for this battle alone.
The warriors spoke no words.Even their gazes did not waver.
They were quieter than the wind,yet that silence weighed heavier on the chestthan the roar of the battlefield.
If given the chance, he wanted to ask about that day—who they were,how they possessed such overwhelming power,whether their movement was merely martial skillor something beyond human limits.
But the one who had spoken to him that daypassed by as if he were a stranger.
The fact that he meant nothing to that mansettled into him as a piercing loneliness.
That gaze was distant and deep.It had seen him,yet had already passed beyond him.
It was a gaze opened far away—farther still, and farther back.
Park Seong-jin opened his mouth, then closed it.He sensed instinctively that words could not reach him.
Beside that man rested a realmbeyond the reach of human language.
What I saw that daywas not a scene of victory.
It was a fragmentbeyond the boundary humans can reach.
Watching their backs,he whispered softly,
"Someday…I too, to that place."
The wind that day was cold.As it swept across the snow,their footprints vanished without a trace.
And Park Seong-jin stood there on the roadfor a long while after.