The medical officer swallowed dryly.
The one most gravely injured inside this wagon was a young girl who had not yet even shed the last traces of childhood.
And yet, at some point, a crescent-moon-like mark had appeared upon her forehead.
‘What on earth is that…?’
But there was something far more important than that.
Ever since that mark had appeared,
the girl’s condition had clearly been stabilizing.
Her ragged breathing was gradually evening out,
and her trembling body was slowly settling down.
What that mark was did not matter right now.
What mattered more was the simple fact that the child was getting even a little better.
Having judged as much, the medical officer stopped thinking about it and moved his hands again.
—
Around noon, when the sun had risen overhead,
Raymond spoke in a low voice.
“Let’s stop for a moment. We need to eat, even if it’s something simple.”
Miryeong gave a short nod as well.
“Yeah. Get things sorted before it gets any later.”
The wagons slowly came to a halt.
Aila glanced at the first wagon, where Bido lay, and said,
“It’d be better to feed the kid some porridge, at least.”
Miryeong furrowed her brows.
“And how exactly do we do that?”
Aila let out a sigh.
“Haa… Forget it. You just keep an eye on that bastard.”
Saying that, she took a pot out of the wagon.
Even as she roughly gathered a pot to set over the fire, water, and grain flour, she did not stop grumbling.
“This is why Harayas really…”
Only after some time did the smell of thin porridge begin to rise from the pot.
Aila ladled the porridge into a bowl and held it out to Wolryeon.
“Here. Go feed her slowly.”
Wolryeon silently took the bowl and climbed onto the first wagon.
The medical officer had been chewing roughly on some hard bread beside her,
but when he followed the direction of Wolryeon’s gaze, he lifted his head.
A faint crescent-moon-like mark had appeared on Bido’s forehead.
The medical officer spoke quietly.
“Ah… That suddenly appeared a while ago.”
“I don’t know what it is either, but… her condition has actually stabilized a little.”
Wolryeon did not answer and only stared at the mark for a moment.
Then she soon leaned toward Bido.
Bido’s eyes were closed,
but her breathing was steadier than before.
“Bido.”
At the low call, Bido’s eyelids slowly lifted.
“Ah… Lady Wolryeon….”
“Are you all right?”
Bido answered softly, barely able to move her neck.
“It… still hurts a bit….”
“I’m sure it does. Eat some of this.”
Wolryeon scooped up a spoonful of porridge and brought it toward Bido.
Behind her, the medical officer spoke cautiously.
“Ah… Wouldn’t it be a little too hot as it is?”
Wolryeon paused at those words,
then drew the spoon back.
And, very clumsily, she blew on it.
“Hoo… hoo….”
—
Meanwhile,
beneath a tree a short distance from the wagons.
Hadin sat bound to the tree along with his chains,
and beside him, Miryeong was chewing on jerky.
A little while later,
Hadin opened his mouth.
“Hey. Aren’t you giving me anything?”
After chewing and swallowing the rest,
Miryeong glanced at Hadin.
“Tell me when you feel like you’re about to die. Then I’ll give you a sip of water, at least.”
Hadin laughed lowly.
“Ha. How stingy.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Well, I suppose that’s only natural. I’m probably not even worth anything as a prisoner.”
Miryeong tore off another piece of jerky and said,
“That’s not for you to decide.”
The corner of Hadin’s mouth twisted even further.
“Kekeke….”
After laughing for a moment, he spoke in an utterly calm voice.
“We’re nothing. No records remain, no names remain. We never existed to begin with.”
Miryeong gave no answer.
Hadin continued.
“If we return, we receive another mission. If we fail, that’s the end of it. Who cares whether we live or die?”
Only then did Miryeong ask,
“Then why the hell do you people do this?”
Hadin let some of the laughter fade from his face and spoke lowly.
“All of this is for the great Sun God’s return.”
For a brief moment, his gaze sank in a strange way.
“We merely fulfill our duty in places the light does not reach.”
A brief silence passed.
Miryeong turned her head away and tore off another piece of jerky.
“Tch.”
Then she muttered indifferently,
“So in the end, you’re just ordinary fanatics.”
—
After that, the procession slowly continued on its way again.
As noon passed, the sun began to sink, but their pace did not quicken easily.
The first wagon moved almost at a crawl to reduce the jolting,
and the second wagon, carrying the bodies covered with cloaks, followed heavily behind.
No one spoke loudly.
Only the shallow breaths of the wounded and the sound of wheels scraping along the dirt road filled the path.
Hadin seemed to be dragged along quietly behind them,
but the light in his eyes never died.
Aila never once let go of the chains,
and Wolryeon, at the very rear, kept watch behind them with a heavy crossbow in hand.
Inside the wagon, Bido’s consciousness came and went.
The medical officer checked the bandages again and again,
and even as she walked, Miryeong alternated her gaze between the wagons and the edge of the forest.
In that manner,
with not a single person able to breathe easily, the afternoon road gradually shortened.
Only when the sun began to lean westward did Raymond look ahead and say,
“Let’s stop there. If we go any farther today, it will be too much.”
It was the edge of the forest, slightly off the road.
It was not a completely open place,
but at the very least, there was enough space to park the two wagons and keep watch over the surroundings.
Miryeong was the first to scan the area.
Her gaze moved as if feeling its way through the depths of the forest,
and Jincheong looked around the opposite side as well, listening for a moment.
“This place is better, at least.”
Miryeong spoke in a low voice.
“It’s not perfect, but we’ll have to hold out here today.”
Raymond gave a short nod.
“Prepare camp. Keep the fires to a minimum, and place the wagons close together.”
“There is no need to unload the wounded.”
“Leave the first wagon as it is, and adjust only the position of the second.”
Once he finished speaking, the people forced their exhausted bodies to move.
Wolryeon and Jincheong turned the second wagon around and brought it beside the first,
while the guards began tying ropes between the trees to make a simple screen first.
Perhaps because the blue oxen had smelled baggage and blood all day, they huffed sensitively,
but they were not so exhausted that they could not endure a little longer.
Aila dragged Hadin to the outermost tree.
The chain wrapped once around the tree,
then tightened around his body again.
She did not stop at simply tying him up,
but also fastened a short length down near Hadin’s legs so that he could not move his feet as he pleased.
Hadin laughed lowly.
“Now you’re tying me up like a dog?”
Aila did not even respond.
Instead, she tightened and pulled the end of the chain once more.
Crackle.
As a brief blue light flowed through it, Hadin’s body stiffened for an instant.
“Grrgh…!”
Only then did Aila open her mouth.
“If even the sound of you breathing gets on my nerves tonight, I’ll fry you. Keep your mouth shut.”
Hadin clenched his teeth and only panted for breath.
Inside the first wagon, the medical officer was once again examining Bido’s condition.
The bandages were still soaked with blood, but it was not spreading as anxiously as it had during the day.
Bido was barely clinging to consciousness with half-lidded eyes,
and the other wounded were merely leaning against one another in silence.
As the sun sank lower, the colors of the forest deepened with it.
In the place where the sound of wheels that had continued all day finally stopped,
only the sound of firewood being split and low breaths remained here and there.
No one spoke at length about what had happened today.
They had no energy for it, and even without saying it aloud, everyone already knew.
In just this one day, the delegation had shed far too much blood, and the road ahead was not yet over.
Miryeong stood for a long while without sitting by the fire, staring toward the first wagon.
At the end of her gaze was Bido, wrapped in bandages.
A little while later, Jincheong approached and spoke quietly.
“I’ll take the first night watch.”
Miryeong answered without taking her eyes away.
“No. I’ll stand first tonight.”
Jincheong did not argue further.
The last light withdrew from above the forest,
and the camp slowly began to sink into night.
It was a night when everyone had fallen asleep except Miryeong, who stood watch.
Bido suddenly opened her eyes.
The moment she tried to move, a pain as if the inside of her right chest were being torn apart surged through her.
Bido clenched her teeth and held her breath.
After closing her eyes and enduring the pain for a while,
she carefully rested her head against the wagon wall again, and only then did it ease a little.
Around her forehead, the faint heat of the crescent-moon mark still remained.
And again, that voice came to her.
‘Yes. That’s it. Grow accustomed to the energy of the moon.’
Bido quietly steadied her breathing.
‘This power will not harm you. Right now, it is holding you so that you can endure.’
Those words were not wrong.
It was not that the pain had disappeared.
Her wound still hurt,
and even if she breathed a little too deeply, the inside of her chest prickled.
Even so, the force of life she could feel within her body was, if anything, clearer than usual.
Like dying embers that had revived again, however faintly,
a weak vitality continued somewhere deep inside her.
Bido closed her eyes.
Until now, she had thought of the moon’s energy only as a power drawn in from outside.
An unfamiliar force that shook her, pushed into her, and had to be endured.
But now, it felt a little different.
This was not simply power.
It was a clear and cool energy of life, one that could exist together with her.
It was different from sunlight.
It was cold but not rough, quiet but unmistakably alive.
Bido thought faintly,
She felt as though she was beginning to understand, little by little.
What Moonblood was.
And how the power of the moon lived and moved within her.