Cheon Sa stirred, his lashes fluttering like the wings of a moth drawn to flame before he slowly opened his eyes. Above him loomed an unfamiliar ceiling, cracked bamboo slats, bowed and weary from years of dampness and decay. For a moment, disorientation clung to him like a fog. He couldn't quite place where he was, or how he'd come to be here. A lingering haze clung to his mind, the remnants of a dream that felt far too vivid to be false. It had smelled of river water and blood and regret faces flashed in his memory like a lantern flickering before dying out.
But now, all he could hold onto was the image of a man with a sharp gaze and silver piercing glinting on his tongue, the stranger who had left the inn behind for them with his minions. The dream like state was probably triggered by his thinking about where he might have known the buzzed head man since he acted like he knew him and that was why he probably had the dream and the dream showned their meeting was nothing important.
Cheon Sa blinked, suddenly remembering he wasn't alone. He turned his head swiftly and found Min Ho sprawled across the opposite bamboo bed, one arm flung over his eyes as if trying to shield himself from dreams. He looked peaceful, too peaceful. Considering how hard he'd cried the night before, Cheon Sa wasn't surprised that sleep had taken him like a tide swallowing the shore.
Cheon Sa rubbed at his eyes. They stung from lack of rest, he had drifted in and out of sleep, alert to every skittering sound of rodents beneath the floorboards and the scratchy whisper of wind through the cracked shutters. The room was damp, the kind that seeped into your bones. Dust clung to every surface, and though he had opened the windows earlier, the air remained stubbornly stale. His nose tickled with irritation, and he knew he'd wake up with it blocked if they stayed much longer.
Dawn had not yet broken, but the world hinted at its arrival. A few bold birds had begun their songs, the kind that signaled it was safe to move. Cheon Sa listened, silent and still, until he was sure there were no footsteps in the dark, no danger lurking. Then he stood up and walked out of the room, walking through the dinning hall and pushed the rickety door leading outside and stepped outside.
He took a deep breath, once, then again. The air was cleaner out here, cool, with the promise of a rising sun. His mind drifted to the tangled chaos of the last few days.
They were safe for now but Dong Ha… Dong Ha was a different story.
Would he have gone back to the tribe? Cheon Sa doubted it. Shame was a silent predator, it stalked men in the dark, whispered in their ears, and led them to places where no one could follow. No, Dong Ha wouldn't have returned. Not after everything.
But then again… what if he hadn't run at all?
The thought slithered into Cheon Sa's mind like a serpent, cold and unwelcome. What if someone had taken him? What if Dong Ha hadn't disappeared by choice?
The possibility settled in his gut like a stone dropped into still water, heavy, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.
"Asi…" Cheon Sa started, but the word faded on his tongue, it's a word he do say most times but hadn't said in a long time. He shook his head slowly, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts that had been circling like vultures since Dong Ha disappeared. They haunted him, creeping in when the world was quiet, when his guard was down. And now, the fear that Dong Ha had been taken by slavers loomed larger than ever almost undeniable. He had already forced himself to abandon the idea of Dong Ha being dead. That was too final, too hopeless. But the alternative wasn't much better.
The first fingers of light stretched across the sky when a voice ripped through the quiet.
"CHEON SA! CHEON SA!"
The name was a desperate cry, high-pitched, panicked, almost broken. Cheon Sa spun around, his heart slamming in his chest. He rushed back inside, his feet barely touching the ground.
Min Ho was by the window, his face pale, his body trembling. He was shouting into the morning mist like a boy abandoned in a nightmare.
"Min Ho!" Cheon Sa called, voice tight with urgency. "What's wrong? What happened?!"
Min Ho whirled around at the sound, his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. For a second, he just stared at Cheon Sa, as though confirming he was real. Then his face crumpled.
"I thought you left!" he gasped, voice cracking like thin ice underfoot. "You...you weren't there...I thought you left me!"
His hands shook violently as he clutched at the wooden window frame for support. His lips quivered, and when he stepped away, it was like he was still half-trapped in the dream he'd woken from.
Cheon Sa crossed the room quickly, his own heart still hammering from the sudden call. "I didn't leave," he said gently, placing both hands on Min Ho's shoulders to steady him. "I just stepped out. I wouldn't leave without you."
Min Ho's breath hitched, and slowly, the panic began to ebb from his eyes. His fingers curled into the front of Cheon Sa's robe for a moment before he let go, nodding.
"We're going to the capital, remember?" Cheon Sa added, his tone calm, steady. "A good life, that's what we said." He said as he wondered if his words might soothen Min Ho because he seemed like he woke up from a nightmare.
Min Ho nodded again, this time more firmly, wiping the back of his hand across his face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It just… it felt so real. Like I was alone again."
Cheon Sa didn't say anything for a moment. He just watched Min Ho begin to gather their things, tying up the ragged satchel with shaky fingers.
"We should go," Min Ho said after a pause. "We shouldn't stay here. If someone come looking for a rest… the authorities… we can't let them see us here, they would rather torture us than find out the truth. You remember old man Chi told us."
Cheon Sa gave a small nod. The inn had done nothing to ease Min Ho's nerves. The least he could do now was follow his lead.
With the morning sun casting slanted light across the dusty floor, they stepped out together, two shadows in the growing day, both weighed down by fear, by memory, and by the hope that the capital might hold something amazing.
They walked for what felt like hours, the morning light climbing slowly over the hills as if reluctant to witness the weight they carried. The damp road stretched endlessly before them, silent save for the crunch of their footsteps and the occasional rustle of wind in the grass. Neither of them had eaten nor sipped water since they left the inn, but Cheon Sa didn't complain and neither did Min Ho.
Instead, Min Ho talked.
He spoke about everything and nothing all at once, rambling observations about the shape of clouds, stories he clearly made up on the spot, memories from his childhood that seemed suspiciously bright, like paintings retouched too many times. His voice was light, almost cheerful, but his eyes betrayed him. There was fear in them, thinly veiled by laughter. A tension clung to his words, like he was afraid silence would make him fall apart.
Cheon Sa remained quiet, listening more to what wasn't being said. Every time Min Ho smiled, it looked a little too wide. Every time he laughed, it came half a second too late. His hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his shoulders were drawn in tight, as if he was trying to protect something inside from shattering.
It unsettled Cheon Sa more than he wanted to admit.
Cheon Sa could remember when Min Ho had seemed almost resolved solemn, yes, but calm as he searched for Dong Ha's belongings to burn. That had felt like acceptance. Closure, even. But now… now it was as if something inside him had cracked wide open again, and he was using his words like a dam to hold back the flood.
Cheon Sa glanced at him, watching as Min Ho forced another chuckle while pointing out a crooked tree that "looked like a screaming man." The smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Did you have a bad dream?" Cheon Sa finally asked, his voice cutting through the stream of chatter like a blade through silk.
Min Ho's steps faltered, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough.
The question hung in the air between them, heavy and still. His lips parted slightly, as though he meant to answer, but no words came. For the first time since they started walking, silence settled over them.
And in that silence, Cheon Sa saw the truth shimmering beneath the surface, Min Ho wasn't running from the past anymore. He was running from the present, and perhaps from his emotions.
"Yes I did."
Cheon Sa was caught off guard by the response. He hadn't expected Min Ho to speak after the long silence that followed his question.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.
Min Ho's voice came out low and hoarse. "It's just that… in the dream, we were at Dong Ha's funeral. You were there, standing beside me. But after that, you left. And I was alone. Not in the capital. Not even back with the tribe. Just… somewhere forgotten. A shabby little house with broken walls and no doors. It felt like the end of the world."
Cheon Sa hesitated, his throat tightening. "Even if it felt real, it was still just a dream," he said softly, offering what little comfort he could.
Min Ho gave a shaky nod. "I know. I keep telling myself that. Still… it's hard to shake. I've acted like a fool these past few days, I know that. As the oldest among us, I should've held it together better. I'm sorry, Cheon Sa."
Cheon Sa looked at him, but said nothing. He knew there was more.
Min Ho inhaled deeply, then continued, "I just need a bit more time. But I promise, I'll pull myself together. I can't go to the capital like this, all broken and afraid. That place… it's not going to show mercy. And besides, the copper coins old man Choi gave us, they're worthless now. We'll have to start from scratch."
"We'll probably get to exchange it for the new coins in the capital," Cheon Sa said, though the words felt hollow in his mouth. Deep down, he wasn't sure. He had never been to the capital, had no idea how people like them, travelers without titles or sponsord were treated. But he remembered what Old Man Choi had said, more than once, his raspy voice thick with warning:
"Don't think you can live like wildflowers in Jeong. The capital doesn't care if you're starving. You pluck a fruit from the wrong garden, and you might lose a hand. That city smiles with one face and bites with the other."
At the time, it had sounded exaggerated, a tale spun to keep young ones from running off in search of adventure. But now, with each step closer to that gleaming, unknowable place, Cheon Sa wasn't so sure.
Min Ho walked beside him in silence, but his earlier words lingered. "Can we exchange coins?"
Cheon Sa doesn't even know, he just uttered those words because he thought it might be possible and he doesn't want to assure Min Ho so he pretended not to have heard him.
Old Man Choi had given them those coins with such care, wrapping them in an old cloth embroidered with fading flowers. "You'll need these," he'd said, pressing the bundle into Min Ho's palm. "Maybe not to spend, but to remember. Money's just one kind of weight, boy."
Cheon Sa hadn't understood what he meant back then. But now he was starting to.
"Min Ho," Cheon Sa said suddenly, his voice low.
Min Ho looked over, brow raised.
"You're not pathetic. Not for being scared. Not for breaking down. You're just... carrying more than most."
Min Ho blinked. His mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came. Then he let out a breath, soft and shaky. "Old Man Choi would have smacked my head and called me a soggy yam by now."
Cheon Sa cracked a smile. "And then told you a long story about the time he got chased by a rice merchant in Jeong for asking too many questions."
Min Ho laughed, and this time it was genuine. "That man could lie like it was a prayer."
"He said you can't survive the capital unless you act like a beast or walk like a ghost," Cheon Sa said thoughtfully. "Said kindness is a rare coin there, spend it too easily, and you'll end up with nothing."
They walked a while longer in silence, both of them lost in thoughts of the old man. Choi had been gruff, stubborn, and often smelled like burnt millet. But his stories had been vivid full of markets that hummed like hives, towers that touched the clouds, and people who wore silk smiles and carried knives under their sleeves.
But even in all his exaggeration, he had never spoken of the capital with love. Only with awe. And caution.
"I'm sorry for calling you an outsider," Min Ho said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. "You've always been one of us."
Cheon Sa hadn't expected the apology, and the words settled into his chest like a warm light. He nodded, feeling a lightness in his heart, grateful that Min Ho had acknowledged what he hadn't meant.
The road curved around a hillside, they stopped, their eyes drawn to the faintest shimmer of something in the valley below. It could have been rooftops, or maybe the smoke of a distant hearth curling lazily into the sky.
Min Ho shaded his eyes from the sun. "Think that's it? The capital?" His voice held a mix of hope and uncertainty.
Cheon Sa squinted into the distance. "Could be a village. Maybe a day more, if we're lucky."
Min Ho exhaled sharply. "Then we better keep walking."
They pressed on, the hours stretching ahead of them like a slow crawl. The shimmering lights remained far off, but with each step, their hearts beat a little faster. Finally, as they descended the hillside, they neared a fork in the road, the sight of people walking in from different directions sent a thrill through them. A man carried a basket, a woman and child balanced firewood on their heads, and a small cart piled high with maize creaked along. Each seemed to be heading toward the same place then they saw something that made their breath catch, something they had never seen before.
A paved road.
It stretched out before them, the ground smooth and even, as though hard, polished stones had been carefully laid in place. The rocks looked familiar to Cheon Sa, it was like the bricks from the house he had grown up in.
The capital.
"Oh heavens, oh heavens!" Min Ho exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. He dropped to his knees to inspect the bricks, his hands brushing over the stones as if they could prove something.
Cheon Sa smiled, genuinely, the excitement blooming in his chest. He crouched down beside Min Ho, running his fingers over the smooth rocks as well. It was like a moment out of one of Old Man Choi's stories, a glimpse into the new era he had spoken of.
The capital was no longer just a dream or a distant tale, it was real, and they had arrived.