97 Entering Gaegyeong — Cold Courtesy Beneath the Welcome
When the city gate came into view, a dreamlike sensation brushed past him.Only then did the fact of having survived truly reach his body.
A pale spring light spread across the sky of Gaegyeong, the capital, and the streets were packed with people.Flags fluttered, children shouted.
"Long live the Goryeo army!""Long live General Baekin!"
The voices were loud.They carried a strain of force, something wound tight and pulled upward.The smiles did not linger on faces so much as repeat themselves like a role being performed.
The Grand General rode forward with the battle-axe standard held before him.Behind him followed his staff officers and commanders.Park Seong-jin kept to the rear of the procession, over a distance that was not long.The capital of Goryeo, now regained, was dazzling.
Tall, ornate two-story halls stretched endlessly along the road.Amid that splendor, human warmth felt thin.
In the absence of blood, horse dung, and wet leather, a strange, faintly fishy air lingered.It was the texture of fear toward the army, and the sign of another kind of restraint.
An official climbing the bell tower shouted with a hardened face,"Welcome the victorious army!"
Trumpets sounded, and the people along the road dropped to their knees in unison.The meaning of that posture could not be reduced to a single thing.
The king did not appear.Instead, officials from the Royal Secretariat stood at each junction holding banners.
"His Majesty conveys his words of welcome."
The words were polite, the voice even.The tone flowed like the reading of a procedure.
Park Seong-jin turned back without thinking.A shadow lay across Hwang Hyeon-pil's face, as if he had already guessed the aftermath.Oh Jin-cheol stared straight ahead in silence.
Someone whispered quietly,"The king is ill.""That is why he could not come in person."
As the words spread, the momentum of the procession visibly slackened.The Grand General's expression hardened shut, and he nodded without speaking.It looked like the gesture of confirming something he had already accounted for.
They passed Jongmyo Shrine and turned toward the eastern gate.A bell rang out from the ramparts.
The sound did not feel like a marker of welcome,but a signal announcing the passage into another phase.
The people cheered, but the sound was light.Hollow cheers.Hollow smiles.Hollow glory.
When the procession dispersed, the Grand General headed for the palace,and the rest moved toward the barracks on the outskirts of the capital.
Passing through the gate, Park Seong-jin looked up at the sky.Spring had already settled over the city.Within that light, he remembered the snowfields of Liaodong.There, the cold had been raw, and judgment clear.
And he knew it by feeling alone:that Baekin, the general of victory, would soon disappear from the political stage.
Gaegyeong Barracks — The Quiet Before Disbandment
The barracks were strangely quiet.The noise that followed the end of war had sunk away,leaving only an army suspended in an awkward shape, waiting to be disbanded.
Rewards and punishments had not yet arrived.No lists had come down, no names had been called.
Soldiers wiped their equipment, then stopped,paused mid-motion and looked up at the sky.
Some removed their armor only to pick it up again.Its return date had not been set,nor had any reason been given to keep it.
Park Seong-jin was handling his bow when he stopped.In Liaodong, this hour would already have led into preparations for the next battle.Here, a different kind of rule applied.
Speak little.Lower your gaze.Fold your questions away.
On the battlefield, the situation itself became the answer.When a target stood before you, action was clear.Here, everyone wore the face of neutrality.
That state felt the most dangerous of all, and his body sensed it first.
Toward evening, a clerk dispatched from the Royal Secretariat passed through the barracks.He called no names and handed a single document to Hwang Hyeon-pil.Then he turned away without a word.
Hwang Hyeon-pil did not open it.He stood holding it for a moment, then walked to the fire and spoke quietly.
"No one will be called today."
The words hovered between relief and forewarning.
As night fell, the lights went out one by one.The barracks sank into darkness.
This darkness had a different texture from the nights in Liaodong.There, targets might hide, but direction remained clear.Here, even direction itself was undecided.
Park Seong-jin lay awake with his eyes open.Beyond the tent, the city's bell sounded low.It did not announce an ending or a beginning,but spread like a signal that one's turn was approaching.
He quietly reached out and touched his sword scabbard.The sword had not yet left his hand.The moment to set it down now lay before his own judgment.
Jeojeon (楮廛)
Though it was called disbandment, few went straight home.Those who said they wanted to go home found their feet turning toward taverns instead.Strangely, almost no one left alone.
Someone pulled someone else along,others were naturally caught up and followed.
"Seong-jin, come on. Hwang-hyung is buying.""I was just going to head back.""Hey. The war's over — you're going home just to sleep?If you came back alive, you have to drink. You came back alive."
There was no stronger reason to be found.They were standing in a place meant to celebrate survival.
They deserved to be congratulated.Because they had come back alive.
When the word deserving surfaced, his eyes grew hot.It named their condition exactly.
In the end, Park Seong-jin matched their steps.Their path naturally turned toward Jeojeon,the heart of Gaegyeong, a place the shadow of war had skirted.
The stone road, freshly washed by spring rain, gleamed.The smell of horse sweat mixed with grilled meat.Merchants haggled, itinerant traders shouted.
Those sounds restored, at last, the sensation of the world.
The soup shop they entered was shabby and always crowded.Grease stains clung to the awning under the low pillars,and the floor was layered with wet straw-shoe prints.
Inside, several people had already taken seats.Soldiers who asked no origins,a low-ranking caravan clerk,a one-armed laborer,an old man leaning on drink.
"Madam, five bowls!""And liquor?""On a day like this, how could we skip it?"
The soup arrived steaming in large earthen bowls.The broth, boiled long with bones, was cloudy,a thin layer of oil floating on top.
The scent of sesame oil, sliced scallions,and the sour edge of kimchi filled his nose.
The smell of home was there.
Park Seong-jin took a deep breath and lifted his chopsticks.One sip. Then another.As the hot broth slid down his throat,the cold left behind on the battlefield slowly loosened.
His eyes stung.
The older men ordered alcohol.A harsh distilled liquor filled the cups.
Laughter grew coarse, voices loud.
"Thinking of those bastards still makes my blood boil.Still — we're alive, so it's enough."
"We drink for the dead too."
"Hey, Seong-jin. You have one too.""One sip is enough."
Forced a cup into his hand,he wet his lips.
Am I an adult now?Have I become one?
It burned bitterly at his throat.Over that bitterness, the men's laughter spread.
Outside, the market noise continued.Wind slipping through the doorway mixed with the steam of the soup,becoming a warm haze.
Within that haze lay the relief shared only by those who had returned alive.
Hwang Hyeon-pil raised his cup."This might be the last time we drink together like this."
Oh Jin-cheol laughed."Hyung, what if we're called up again?"
"Then… you lot go in my place."
Laughter burst out.Soon, moisture like steam gathered silently at someone's eyes.
Park Seong-jin sat there.
He had returned.Safely.
Between laughter and the smell of liquor,he slowly chewed on the sensation of being alive.
Outside, the spring rain had fully stopped,and the lights of Jeojeon were going out one by one.