Wolf. (2)
Dawn was breaking.
After waking from sleep, Woojin headed toward Hector's cabin as usual. He knocked on the door a couple of times.
"Are you there?"
There was no answer.
Woojin carefully opened the door. Hector was nowhere in sight. It seemed he had gone hunting earlier than usual today.
With nothing else to do, Woojin sat at the desk and opened the journal. After days of doing nothing but reading, he had grown tired of it, but fortunately this tedious task was finally nearing its end.
About two hours later—
"…Finally finished."
Having completed the book, Woojin closed it. A clear smile hung at the corner of his lips. Finishing the task that had troubled him for so long left him feeling refreshed.
It had taken longer than expected. Woojin had always been a slow reader to begin with, and he had also lost quite a bit of time helping Hector with his work whenever he could.
"When Hector returns, I'll leave."
Now that his business was finished, there was no longer any reason to stay here…
Still, he had been indebted to Hector for the past ten days. It seemed right to at least say goodbye before departing.
"Maybe I'll take a look around the area."
Sitting at the desk all day had made him restless. Stepping out of the cabin for a walk, Woojin moved at an easy pace.
He roamed through the black forest as if it were his own backyard. His steps came to a halt before a tree heavy with bluish fruit.
"Demonic Plum."
It was a name written in the journal. One of the few edible fruits in the demonic realm.
He happened to be hungry—perfect timing.
Woojin skillfully climbed the tree and picked six or seven plums. After descending, he took a large bite from one.
The Demonic Plum tasted bitter and astringent. But if one endured and chewed it thoroughly, a tantalizing sweetness would linger in the mouth.
"Is this what red wine tastes like?"
He had heard that red wine, made by crushing grapes with their skins, had a high tannin content and thus astringency. He had never actually tasted it, so he didn't know whether that was true. All he could do was imagine the flavor of wine while chewing the bitter plum.
"…Why have I never tasted wine?"
Woojin fell into sudden contemplation. Thinking back, there were too many foods he had never tried before he died.
Lamb, pufferfish, wine…
None of them were extraordinarily expensive. If he had wanted to, he could have bought them anytime. Yet it seemed he had never even considered indulging in such small luxuries.
"This time, I should live a more colorful life."
A life of eating well and enjoying himself without envy. To grasp that kind of life, he would have to cross beyond the barrier.
How could he reach his destination more easily? Chewing the plum, Woojin sank into deep thought. To achieve something, one needed a plan—and to make a plan, one needed information.
The books he had read over the past ten days, and the conversations he had shared with Hector in spare moments. As he sorted through the information contained within them, adding flesh and bone to his plans—
"…Something feels unsettled."
Woojin suddenly tuned his ears to the surrounding sounds.
The commotion he had been hearing for some time was growing distracting. It seemed a fight had broken out somewhere.
"Is Hector hunting?"
It was hard to tell from the sound alone. With nothing else to do and the distance not seeming too far, Woojin headed toward the source of the disturbance.
He quickened his pace, advancing toward the center of the commotion.
…At the same time, the commotion advanced toward him.
"They're coming."
Sensing a presence, Woojin hid behind a nearby tree. Soon rough footsteps thundered from the front, and Hector burst through the thorny bushes, running with all his might.
Moments later, three wolves tore through the brush in pursuit. Their fangs were aimed at Hector's throat.
The relationship between hunter and prey had reversed. Apparently, something had gone wrong.
"I suppose I should lend a hand."
Woojin drew the two daggers hanging from his belt. Watching the wolves' movements closely, he predicted their path and threw the daggers in quick succession.
Two silver streaks shot from his fingertips.
Thud!
The two wolves running in the lead tumbled to the ground. The daggers were embedded in their necks as their bodies convulsed violently.
Now only one remained.
I'll handle that one myself. With that thought, Woojin drew his machete and stepped forward—
"Run!!"
Hector shouted at the top of his lungs. In an instant he reached Woojin and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him along.
A rough, urgent grip. Caught off guard, Woojin found himself running alongside him.
"…I didn't even retrieve my daggers."
He had used those for a long time and wanted to take them back, but Hector's urgency left no room to suggest turning around.
Why was he in such a hurry?
…The answer came quickly.
Awooooo—!
The howls of wolves echoed from all directions. A foreboding feeling crept over him. Glancing back, Woojin saw dozens of wolves charging toward them like a tidal wave.
"Wow."
Just what had Hector done to cause this mess? Woojin whistled at the sight of the pursuing wolves. Hector urged him on.
"Instead of staring, run faster! If we're unlucky, we could get caught up in it!"
"Isn't there still quite a bit of distance between us?"
"I wasn't talking about the wolves."
Then what could he possibly mean?
As Woojin was about to ask again, a thunderous crash rang out, and the ground behind them began to collapse.
Wolves tumbled into a suddenly formed pit. Sharp wooden stakes buried beneath the earth tore into their bodies.
It was a trap designed to collapse once a certain weight was exceeded. Judging by its size, it spanned easily more than ten meters across.
However, compared to its width, it was not very deep. Before long, the wolves began crawling out of the pit one by one.
"A trap focused on stalling for time."
At times like this, you have to widen the distance.
Woojin ran diligently after Hector, who was ahead of him. But perhaps they had circled back using a shortcut—suddenly, two wolves sprang out from the front and blocked their path.
We'll have to break through.
Just as Woojin drew his machete again, Hector stopped in place and set an arrow to his bowstring.
Twang, twang!
Arrows flew in rapid succession. It didn't even look like he was properly aiming. Without pausing for breath, Hector fired as if spraying them blindly.
Yet each arrow struck the wolves' vital points with uncanny precision. The wolves quickly collapsed into bloody heaps on the ground.
The situation was resolved in an instant.
"Move!"
Hector urged him on and took off running again.
With nothing left to do, Woojin sheathed his machete. After repeating this sequence two or three times, the two finally made it back to the cabin.
"Cough, hack!"
Hector dropped to the floor and began coughing repeatedly. It seemed he was out of breath from running nonstop. Woojin waited until the old hunter's breathing steadied before asking,
"What will you do now? They'll be storming in here soon."
"…We fight."
Hector answered calmly and picked up the book on the desk—the Demonic Realm Journal. He handed it to Woojin.
"I'll buy time here, so take the book and leave. With your skills, you should be able to break through their encirclement and escape."
"Didn't you say it was something you couldn't part with?"
"It can't be helped, given the circumstances."
Hector waved his hand, as if telling him to go.
"Take care on your way, lad. It was good meeting you."
Instead of replying, Woojin quietly examined the man standing before him.
Claw and bite marks were carved all over his body—wounds that hadn't been there yesterday. Blood trickled down, staining his clothes red. His complexion was pale. The old man had already suffered from chronic illness, and now he had sustained significant injuries fighting wolves.
At this rate, he'll die soon.
What should he do?
Woojin's deliberation did not last long.
"Hold on. I'll be back soon."
"…What are you planning?"
Without answering, Woojin stepped outside.
A pack of wolves surrounded the cabin. Their numbers had noticeably dwindled. It seemed the journey here had not been smooth.
The traps the old hunter had personally set were subtle and cunning. Arranged like a formation around the cabin, they were so well concealed that even Woojin would have missed them without careful focus.
He roughly counted the wolves with a glance.
About thirty?
There were still quite a few left. The wolves bared their fangs, looking ready to pounce at any moment. Yet Woojin paid no heed to their threat and strode toward them without hesitation.
Hector's words suddenly crossed his mind.
"Large, ferocious, untamed wild dogs—we've decided to call them wolves."
The people here called these beasts wolves. Woojin still found it difficult to agree.
He glanced around once. The wolves that met Woojin's eyes recoiled as if burned by fire. As a result, even though he continued walking forward, the distance between them did not shrink at all.
With their keen sense of smell, the wolves detected a foul, ominous scent from the human before them—blood and death. It was the lingering aura of the countless demonic beasts Kim Woojin had slaughtered.
Sensing instinctive fear, the wolves watched him cautiously like timid pups. From Woojin's perspective, unaware of this inner turmoil, it was simply puzzling.
Why are these things called wolves?
Woojin grabbed one wolf by the scruff of its neck. At the rough tug, the wolf that had tried to flee was dragged back helplessly.
No matter how I look at it, it's more like a Jindo dog…
After stepping on the wolf's neck to pin it down, Woojin examined its appearance. Perhaps sensing an opening, another wolf lunged from the side.
No matter where you go, there are always one or two fools who can't read the room.
Without even turning his head, Woojin swung his machete. The wolf's upper jaw flew off, and its corpse tumbled across the dirt.
First, I'll finish what I started.
With that resolve, Woojin stomped down hard. The neck of the wolf beneath his foot snapped with a crack, and at the same time, his body shot forward.
A shield-first charge.
Woojin barreled in like a blind bull. The wolves' reactions varied—some froze in confusion, some trembled in fear, others tried to attack.
Without regard for front or back, he swung his blade recklessly. Crude, yet filled with fierce strength, his slashes tore and severed the wolves' bodies in every direction.
In a brawl like this, momentum is half the battle. Though the wolves vastly outnumbered him, they were already mentally cowed, tails practically tucked.
Before long, the wolves began to flee.
Krrrraaaagh—!!
Suddenly, a savage roar erupted from within the forest. At the sound, the wolves froze.
"It's here."
Woojin fixed his gaze on the forest's shadows.
There stood a bizarre creature.
A shaggy monster standing upright on two legs like a human. Its upper body was hunched like that of an old scholar, its head jutting forward. The shape of that head resembled a wolf's.
"Werewolf."
That was the name written in the Demonic Realm Journal. A wolf that walked on two legs. It commanded multiple wolves like subordinates.
A broken arrow was lodged in its left eye. Judging by it, that must have been Hector's doing.
It's properly enraged.
Having lost an eye, the werewolf was consumed by fury. It had no intention of forgiving the subordinates trying to flee.
The werewolf grabbed one wolf and lifted it overhead. The wolf struggled frantically to escape its grip.
Rip!
With sheer force, the werewolf tore the wolf apart. Blood and entrails spilled from the split body. Having witnessed that gruesome example, the other wolves turned their heads back toward Woojin.
Woojin grinned and adjusted his grip on his sword.
This is why I don't like calling them wolves.
A tamed wolf is what we call a dog.