Be the Sacrifice Chapter 6

Hong Yeomrang, who had gone to retrieve the sword sheath he’d thrown against the wall, suddenly froze.

 

At some point, Hee-sa had lain down on his own golden quilt and was rubbing her pale face against it. Her long hair, clumsily braided, and the worn skirt hem that had been dragged up to her thighs by his earlier actions were visible.

 

Without any sense of shame or any thought of pulling her skirt back down, she asked in a childlike, bright voice.

 

“…Are you cold?”

 

There was no malice in the question, so for a moment, Hong Yeomrang couldn’t answer.

 

She really was just asking because she felt warm. He could instantly discern a person’s true nature. Ever since he was young, whenever he met someone, their ugly side often appeared to him first.

 

That ability had sometimes helped him while living in the capital after leaving this place.

 

It was only natural that getting involved with such people never ended well. When he didn’t answer, Hee-sa took it as permission and contentedly closed her eyes.

 

Under the lantern light, the sight of her snow-white face and the satisfied upward curve of her lips came clearly into Hong Yeomrang’s view.

 

Maybe she was trying to lower his guard so she could escape.

 

Hong Yeomrang kept suspecting her without pause.

 

Instead of leaving her be, he sheathed his sword, leaned his back against the cave wall, and sat down. 

 

He never took his eyes off the woman.

 

He couldn’t clearly determine what she really was, so he couldn’t send her back out, nor could he kill her.

 

That left only one option, keep her right in front of him and watch until she did something strange.

 

Sss… sss…

 

Soon came the faint sound of lips slightly parted, breathing. Her chest rose and fell steadily.

 

Having fallen fast asleep right in front of the man who had pointed a blade at her, Hee-sa unconsciously burrowed deeper under the golden quilt, perhaps because she was cold.

 

Rustle, rustle—

 

The clear sound of new silk bedding being crushed as she nestled in reached Hong Yeomrang’s ears vividly.

 

“…What the hell is this?”

 

Unlike himself—sitting rigidly with his back against the cold cave wall out of vigilance—Hee-sa had curled up inside her bedding like a bird building a nest and fallen into the most comfortable sleep imaginable. 

 

It was absurd.

 

Even stranger was that her breathing didn’t grate on his nerves at all.

 

The scent of grass that had lingered since she entered, and following faintly behind it, the sweet smell of a honey jar.

 

He must not let his guard down.

 

Even though he knew that, somehow the thought crossed his mind that he was the only one losing out by staying awake and on guard like this.

 

She’s sleeping so peacefully over there.

 

Hong Yeomrang’s eyes also drooped slightly. He had an inherently sharp, sensitive disposition—he reacted instantly to any killing intent or movement. 

 

He barely needed sleep; closing his eyes for a short while and waking up was enough for him.

 

He could rise and counterattack at any moment.

 

Hadn’t he noticed the instant the woman touched his head?

 

Yet he hadn’t heard her approach at all. But the sudden wave of drowsiness swept over him, preventing any further thoughts, and his eyes closed completely.

 

The moment something heavy settled onto his body, Hong Yeomrang jolted awake in shock and opened his eyes.

 

A shadow loomed right in front of him.

 

Too late—he had already grasped the hilt of his sword by the time he realized.

 

A thick quilt had been draped over his body.

 

Still half-asleep, her dark, hazy eyes stared straight at him for a moment before breaking into a bright smile.

 

“You have to cover yourself with a blanket to sleep properly.”

 

She had dragged the quilt from several steps away and covered him with it—and he hadn’t noticed at all.

 

When Hong Yeomrang furrowed his brow, Hee-sa held up both hands in a placating “whoa” gesture, as if calming a ferocious beast, and slowly backed away again. Then she lay back down on the bedding and glanced sideways at him.

 

He had no idea how much time had passed; the lantern was still the only source of light.

 

“…How did you approach me without making a sound?”

 

He asked while tightly gripping the sword hilt from inside the quilt.

 

Hee-sa slowly blinked. The answer should have been simple, yet she seemed to think it over for a long time, blinking three or four more times. Hong Yeomrang didn’t press her—he waited.

 

“Hmm… I don’t really know. Probably… because I’m not wearing shoes?”

 

She answered slowly.

 

At the same time, she stretched her feet toward him from atop the bedding.

 

They really were bare.

 

Seeing her feet—still caked with mud that hadn’t fully fallen off—Hong Yeomrang unconsciously frowned.

 

Simply not wearing shoes wasn’t enough to completely silence one’s footsteps.

 

He really wasn’t just some ordinary village idiot—he was someone to be wary of.

 

Still, there was something oddly off-putting about cutting him down with a blade. 

 

All the guy had actually done was touch Hong Yeomrang’s hair and cover him with a blanket—only those two things. 

 

So Hong Yeomrang wanted one decisive reason, something undeniable.

 

As his gaze sharpened, Hee-sa smiled again, that same soft smile.

 

Seeing him try his hardest to look as harmless as possible, Hong Yeomrang’s expression grew even colder. Then, perhaps feeling uneasy, Hee-sa started nervously nibbling on her fingertips again.

 

“When daylight comes, bring the baksu here immediately. If you don’t, I’ll kill both of you.”

 

“The baksu’s bones are broken, so he went to a physician in the neighboring village.”

 

This time, there was no hesitation or pause—he spoke clearly and evenly. 

 

His voice was almost completely flat, calm and gentle, strangely enough not grating on Hong Yeomrang’s nerves the way labored breathing usually would.

 

“It’s been raining so much that the bridge collapsed. He won’t be able to come back for a while.”

 

As he spoke, Hee-sa bit down hard on her fingertip again. The bleeding that had just barely stopped started up once more.

 

“Stop biting your fingers.”

 

“…Okay.”

 

At Hong Yeomrang’s sharp remark, Hee-sa obediently lowered her hand. 

 

Now she was just clutching and releasing the edge of the sleeping mat. 

 

For some reason, Hong Yeomrang’s attention kept being drawn only to the tips of her fingers, and before he realized it, his eyes were fixed on the edge of the mat too.

 

Noticing where his gaze was directed, Hee-sa suddenly stopped fidgeting with her hands.

 

Swish—she quickly hid both hands behind her back.

 

“What?”

 

Hong Yeomrang, who seldom spoke to someone first, felt a flicker of irritation and asked.

 

In that instant, Hee-sa burst out laughing. Hong Yeomrang had no idea what was so funny, but the boy laughed like an innocent child, bright and unguarded.

 

“You were only looking at my hands.”

 

At the outer corner of his eyes, curved like crescent moons, there was a faint little mole.

 

“You’re the one acting all twitchy and suspicious.”

 

Of course, his eyes would end up on the hands—first biting fingertips, then crumpling and twisting the edge of the mat. 

 

At Hong Yeomrang’s cutting words, Hee-sa smiled again, clear and bright.

 

Then suddenly he sat up straight.

 

“I’m going to come closer now, so don’t be startled. And don’t draw your sword.”

 

What kind of trick is this?

 

Still gripping the hilt of his sword beneath the blanket—ready to draw it at any moment—Hong Yeomrang braced himself for whatever trick this was. He gave a small nod.

 

And inwardly he hoped the person would do something demonic, something monstrous. Because he was waiting for an unambiguous excuse to cut him down without a second thought.

 

Hee-sa slowly approached on his knees.

 

Then she spread all ten fingers wide right in front of Hong Yeomrang’s face. 

 

A pair of hands covered in scars and raw, reddish wounds suddenly filled his vision.

 

“Ugly, right!”

 

…They were ugly.

 

He had never seen fingers this ugly in his life. Not a single one was intact. Hong Yeomrang genuinely could not fathom why on earth this person was showing them to him like this. 

 

This one was different. The way he thought was unmistakably unlike that of a normal human being.

 

“So what?”

 

“You don’t need to look at ugly things on purpose. If you want to see, look your fill right now.”

 

Hee-sa turned her hands back and forth, showing both sides, then—once she seemed satisfied that Hong Yeomrang had looked enough—shuffled backward on her knees until she reached the sleeping mat again. 

 

She lay back down on it, as casually as if it were her own bedroom, and stared at Hong Yeomrang.

 

Hong Yeomrang was speechless. He had no idea how to respond. For the first time in his life, someone had left him utterly dumbfounded.

 

This was the kind of situation where the one who draws the sword first loses.

 

A sudden wave of distant, hollow feeling washed over him; Hong Yeomrang chewed the inside of his cheek.

 

“So… you look at me the same way?”

 

“No. I’m good-looking, so I don’t need to waste time staring.”

 

Once again, his eyes half-folded in laughter.

 

It wasn’t mockery. It was the smile of someone completely, genuinely satisfied. Hong Yeomrang could tell there wasn’t the slightest malice behind the words—and that only made the heat rush up to the top of his head. 

 

He knew perfectly well what his own face looked like; he’d seen it in mirrors. 

 

Even when people whispered behind his back, most of the murmurs were about his appearance. When he was younger, men approached him thinking he was a pretty girl. 

 

After his male characteristics became obvious, women started approaching him instead. 

 

Almost everyone who met his eyes would quickly look away or falter.

 

Being told so openly and bluntly “you’re handsome” while being stared at so directly—this was a first for Hong Yeomrang.

 

“Don’t get angry. Just sleep more.”

 

“Who’s angry?”

 

Hee-sa didn’t reply anymore. She simply smiled, pale and bright. Then she closed her eyes first.

 

She acted almost as though he knew Hong Yeomrang would only close his own eyes once Hee-sa made herself completely defenseless.

 

This was strange. 

 

For the first time, Hong Yeomrang was facing someone he could not predict at all. 

 

Judging by the way she spoke, she wasn’t an idiot—yet he was strangely one-sided, almost aggressively guileless. 

 

Hong Yeomrang kept tightening and loosening his grip on the sword hilt. 

 

Even while he was turning over questions about Hee-sa’s true identity in his mind, the sound of the other’s steady, slightly rough breathing reached his ears.