Chapter 192 — Swaying Drunk
He emptied several more bottles.
His mood did not settle.
The feelings from before only grew clearer.
A thick wind cloak, dust settled over it, hung over his silver armor.
The helmet placed beside him shone with a strange, foreign gleam.
Even the small shield seemed out of place here.
A long spear with a banner, a sword, and a bow lay at his side.
War was far from this place.
This was no place for men like them.
He should go home.
The horse moved forward on its own, then stopped from time to time.
Each time, he lightly shook the reins, but the horse would not easily move on.
The horse read the wavering heart of its rider first.
The horse walked slowly along the main road.
The hand holding the reins swayed in a steady rhythm, and his body nodded faintly above it.
The sound of hooves pressing into the earth continued for a long while, and that rhythm flowed along with time.
The road did not end.
Fields passed by, low hills slipped past, and a narrow watercourse glimmered darkly before sliding behind him.
The wind blew, touched the hem of his cloak, and dust rose, then settled again.
The sun gradually tilted, lowering the angle of its light.
The horse's steps did not change.
The man did not change either.
Between them, only time passed.
At some point, the road became familiar.
Even without confirming it with his eyes, his body recognized it first.
The shape of the ridge in the distance, the place where the road bent slightly, even the spot where several trees gathered—everything remained as it had been.
The sound of hooves grew a little clearer.
The dirt road grew firmer, and the presence of people drew nearer.
At the edge of his sight, a roof came into view with a thin line of smoke rising from it.
The horse slowed.
There was no need to urge it on.
This was already the road that had arrived.
At the gate, the reins loosened.
His gaze lifted.
The house that had once been collapsing now stood upright.
The pillars were straight, and the roof was whole.
The wall that had been crumbling ran neatly along its line.
It seemed they had repaired it while he was gone.
They had likely repaired the house with money earned through blood.
He took one step closer.
The earth pressed down beneath his foot.
The door opened, and a man came out.
An unfamiliar face appeared first.
Their eyes met.
"Who are you?"
The horse stopped.
The reins in Yeongu's hand moved no farther.
This was his house, yet he had to explain himself.
Words did not come easily.
How could he explain, in a single sentence, the man who had been gone for years?
"I am the son of this house. Who are you?"
The man's eyes slowly widened.
Surprise spread across his face, but his voice did not rise.
"Commander Jungnang?"
"You know me?"
"I do. I saw you briefly in the camp once, when you were passing by."
"Why are you here?"
"Lady O Geol-mae freed me and sent me here."
If he had been freed, that meant he had lived as a slave in a Jurchen settlement.
People seized in raids were often made slaves.
Some became slaves through trade or contracts as well.
Among them, those with useful skills were sometimes given work beyond farming.
"Are you Goryeo?"
"No. I am Khitan. More precisely, Xi."
The Khitan and Xi were among the ruling peoples of Liao.
"Why did a Xi become a slave?"
"Life turned that way. I chose to live rather than question the reason. Through Lady O Geol-mae's kindness, I came here and now serve as steward."
At the word steward, Yeongu nodded.
He was still seated on horseback.
The reins hung loose, and the horse stood quietly.
"Has anything happened at home?"
"Nothing has happened. Every collapsing place has been repaired."
"You have worked hard."
"Your mother is healthy."
The air before the gate settled.
When the steward took hold of the reins, Yeongu dismounted.
Perhaps because of the alcohol, his body felt heavy and slack.
The inside of the house grew noisy, and his family came running out.
"Yeongu!"
At his mother's cry, Yeongu lowered himself.
His mother ran to him and pulled him into her arms.
Her arms wrapped around the cold armor.
"My son!"
"Mother."
This was the house that had once sent a young boy into the army.
Now, with the things Yeongu had sent back, the household had become much better off.
"Are you on leave?"
"I quit."
"Why?"
"Killing people did not suit me."
When the words ended, his mother's arms tightened a little more.
Her hands felt along the seams of his armor, then stopped there.
Footsteps overlapped behind her.
His family drew near, stopped for a moment, then took another step closer.
Someone smiled, and someone looked over the horse.
Children peeked out from behind the others and stared.
Without anyone needing to go first, they gathered around Yeongu.
Hands touched his shoulders, took hold of his arms, and tapped against his armor.
As if confirming the person who had returned from far away, they checked him piece by piece.
The warmth of the people surrounding him slowly pressed in.
The distance that had remained until just a moment ago disappeared on the spot.