Ignoring his rumbling stomach, Woo filled the bowl with rice, then crudely carved a wooden spoon from some wood he had gathered. It was with this makeshift utensil that he took his first meal on the hillside. There weren’t any side dishes, only cold water, and he could chew on grains of sand mixed in with the rice. Still, Woo chewed and swallowed what he had put in his mouth. Though his table was modest to the point of being pitiful, somehow, he found it satisfying in its own way.

He thought that once he became adept at chopping wood and got the hang of things, he could gather wild greens from the nearby hills to supplement his meals. But then Woo realized a major problem. While he could identify medicinal herbs and poisonous plants, he had no knowledge of which greens were safe for consumption. Though it was a potential solution to survive by foraging medicinal herbs, overconsumption—even of medicine—could be harmful to the body.

He let out a hollow laugh. After over a decade of living as a servant, he had thought he had adapted well to this lifestyle, but clearly, he was far from prepared. His past belief that he could excel on his own, independent of his status, suddenly seemed absurd.

No matter how sophisticated his poetry was or how masterful his performance on the zither had been—drawing admiration from everyone—none of it was of any use now. Or maybe, just maybe, the praise they had showered upon him was nothing more than an illusion, conjured up by his status. Now that he had come down to this level, he could see it clearly. He understood how much people can be like mere tongues inside a superior’s mouth, ready to play whatever tune needed to please those who held their fate in their hands.

He had a rather decent knack for discerning traitors and schemers. However, everyone who interacted with Woo was completely inclined to cater to his convenience. Those who stood by his side all paid careful attention to his every move, striving to please him. In the past, how gentle the world must have seemed!

Swallowing a sigh and finishing his meal, Woo checked the remaining rice in the pot. It seemed enough to boil water and make porridge for dinner later. He took up an old axe, with its teeth mostly worn down, and began chopping wood. Being extra cautious to avoid the tree falling towards him, he had to strike it dozens of times, and even though he managed to fell just one tree, his palms were already throbbing, his neck stiff. His back was screaming in agony, and as his arms heated up from the labor, the burn he had suffered yesterday made its presence known once again.

There was a time when, with just a flick of his hand, he could have cleared half of this mountain side. Whether the axe blade was dull or how many strikes it would take—these were things he wouldn’t have had to worry about. His bare hands would have been more than sufficient. The martial art technique he had mastered, the “Golden Palm Skill”, allowed him such power that he could split through tough leather, heavy muscle, and even solid bone with a single strike.

Woo’s finest technique, his “Sword Art”, was centered around the blade. If he’d had his beloved sword in hand, chopping wood would have been faster than using his hands, and he would have cleared the mountain trees without even draining his inner strength.

But now, all that was left of his warrior’s body were slender, emaciated limbs. It was the result of many long months spent lying completely immobile. Though the injuries themselves were severe, the two years he spent bedridden had eroded most of his muscles. Fortunately, his natural strength and physical frame were still formidable. As time went on, doing all sorts of menial labor as a servant, some non-martial but practical muscles were beginning to form.

With such thoughts coming and going in his mind, he managed to cut down about four trees before the sun began to set. Woo walked down to the nearby stream to prepare for dinner. How fortunate it was to have a stream so close to his hut! Sometimes, Woo thought he understood why Ye Jin-rang had entrusted him to the Third Overseer.

He had a knack for tormenting others just to the brink of death but not beyond. His arms, which had been overworked all day, trembled as he carried a water-filled pot, quivering far more than they had in the morning. It would have been nice if he had at least a simple bowl to carry the water in, but there was no chance of finding such a thing in this shack where even a spoon was a luxury. It seemed he would have to make things one by one as he stayed here.

Woo placed the pot over the fire, and as he watched the roaring flames, he nodded off. He tried to stay alert, but sleep kept pulling Woo in. His body, which had only recently tasted good restful sleep, cried out, demanding more. Pinching his thigh to stay awake, Woo watched the watery rice slowly turn into porridge. Suddenly, he felt a sense of emptiness. It wasn’t because the other servants he shared the hut with were missing. It was because Kang-oh, whom he had only seen for two days, hadn’t shown up today.

‘It’s a relief,’ he thought. ‘It really is.’

Woo muttered to himself, biting his inner lip, and buried his face between his knees. Even though he had been scared out of his wits by encountering Kang-oh in succession, he couldn’t shake the selfish hope that he might appear again. He had no idea what to do with himself.

---

As night fell late, the sound of a wolf’s howl could be heard, just as it had the previous night. Woo, clutching his blanket tightly, realized his own pitiful state, now feeling terror from nothing more than a beast’s howling. The warmth that Kang-oh had left behind the night before had already dissipated over the span of a single day. It was regrettable, but neither Kang-oh nor that warmth were things he could hope to reach for. And he shouldn’t, either.

Though the night drew deeper, sleep would not come easily. Even if Woo briefly managed to close his eyes, he would wake up because of the aching pain in his body. His back was drenched in cold sweat, and his hands and feet felt like ice.

“Ugh… ugh…”

Woo groaned in pain, curling his body. It was a night completely different from the peaceful one before. Forcing himself to sit up, he took a few sips from a bowl of water he had set aside after boiling it earlier that evening. The water had turned cold, and yet his body felt hotter in comparison. ‘I feel like I have a fever…’

The fire, which had calmed down during the night, now only had a few embers remaining. It was still a dark night, not even nearing dawn yet. Woo tried to return to his hut, but in the end, he collapsed before the bonfire. In the past eight years, he had never been this sick. If he had still been accommodated in the living quarters of the servants, someone would likely have found his collapsed body by morning, but there was no such luck for him now. He had no idea whether he would be able to get up in a few hours—or even in a few days.

“Get a hold of yourself.”

In a dazed state, he felt someone grip his shoulder. Was this a dream or reality? It was hard to tell. He reached out toward the blurry figure in front of him, and his hand touched the person’s face. At the sensation of another’s warmth, Woo’s fingers trembled. He didn’t want to let go.

“Hurt… it hurts…”

His muffled sobs spilled out, dripping with raw sincerity. The man, unable to shake off Woo’s touch, remained frozen in place, feeling too sorry to pull away from Woo’s feeble grasp, seemingly weaker than a chick. Unexpectedly, Woo’s cheeks grew wet with tears of sorrow.

Why doesn’t he hold me? You always held me before…

He was burning with fever, no doubt. That had to be the reason. Thoughts were going back and forth, as if his mind was flickering between clarity and disarray. His rationality and pain took turns ruling his consciousness.

As if he had made up his mind, the man lifted Woo, propping up his upper body, and brought water to his lips. Although more than half of it spilled to the side, Woo desperately drank the little that made it into his mouth, as though it were the nectar of immortality. Then, a small pill entered his mouth.

“Cough, cough!”

He couldn’t swallow the medicine due to a fit of coughing. He sensed the man clicking his tongue. In his dazed state, Woo instinctively shrank back and began to mutter an apology.

“I’m… I’m sorry… sorry…”

Suddenly, something pressed against his mouth, cutting off his apology. Woo felt someone’s tongue invading his mouth. It wasn’t for any base reason—simply, the pill was being pushed naturally down his throat. Unable to properly catch his breath, Woo swallowed it and trembled all over. At that moment, he felt an awkward yet gentle pat on his back.

‘How dare you. Do you even know who I am to defile my lips…?’

As past and present mingled in his mind, Woo thought this to himself. Slowly, the lips withdrew. Whether it was heat or tears, his vision remained blurry. The tender brute lifted his hand to Woo’s nose and exhaled in relief.

‘Who are you to be so concerned for me?’

The feeling was at once familiar and foreign—the broad shoulders that could envelop him, the solid strength supporting his body.

“Rest.”

The man’s hand covered Woo’s eyes. Even though he thought it was absurd to obey someone’s command, like a lie, Woo soon sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

---

The chirping of the mountain birds woke Woo from his sleep. Opening his eyes, Woo placed a hand on his forehead. It felt like he had a very pleasant dream, but he couldn’t quite remember it—similar to the way one forgets the details of a dream right after waking up. Tilting his head in puzzlement, he stepped out of the cabin and then froze. Something about the scenery seemed slightly different compared to the day before.

First, the trail leading from the cabin to the campfire was strange. It bore marks as if someone had crawled along it. Now that he thought about it… in his half-asleep state… had he perhaps gone to get water? However, he had no memory of returning to the cabin after drinking any.

Woo reached for his hazy recollections, trying to piece things together. He clearly remembered collapsing at that very spot and thinking he might die there, with no one coming to check on him in time. But then, someone had appeared, given him water, and even administered some medicine.

As the memory of how the medicine had gone down resurfaced in Woo’s mind, his face flushed with heat. The lips… They had touched. Though he knew it was merely to help him take the medicine, he couldn’t help feeling flustered.

Woo had never allowed anyone to approach him so closely, neither in the past nor now. Since childhood, he’d had little to no physical contact with others. The man he considered his father was strict, never so much as patting Woo on the head. His noble-born mother had left him in the care of a nanny, never personally cradling or comforting him. Even that nanny, one of his mother’s close attendants, had avoided showing him too much affection while raising him.