Chapter Text
Joseon, 1736.
An infection had spread throughout the country, turning those who fall victim into mindless zombies, starting in Jiyulheon and branching out through Hanyang and the remaining towns in Dongnae.
There was no doubt the breakout affected
those in Dongnae, especially the new magistrate, Cho Beom-pal. Days of sleepless nights following the outbreak spreading to his boat after his attempt at escaping.
He however found solace in Seo-bi, the physician appointed in the Jiyulheon clinic. She had entered his life before the escape and needless to say, he was captivated by the first words she muttered from her lips. Her voice like honey to his scarred ears. Nobody had talked in that way to him before, he had been used to the scolding from his uncle, Cho Hak-ju, of why he should 'man up' if he truly believes hes an acceptable magistrate.
He was just used to being a pawn to those above him in the Haewon Cho Clan, especially his cousin, Cho Beom-il. Beom-il had often blamed him for happenings in the family, even events that never included Beom-pal, like arguments between Hak-ju and the Queen Consort. Seo-bi had become his idol, and he wanted nothing more than to keep her by his side as they fought off the infected hoard.
He now found himself in Hanyang, sitting alone in front of a crackling fire, fiddling with his silk hanbok. He had been worrying about his family at home in Dongnae. He had heard nothing from his uncle or cousins, already suspecting that they had been unfortunate and caught the infection.
His thought were distracted however as footstep's approached, a hand falling on his shoulder. "We're setting off from here in an hour." The emotionless voice belonged to Yeong-shin, a former patient of the Jiyulheon clinic. Beom-pal craned his head to look at the male, giving a weak smile, his eyes unable to focus on Yeong-shin's face. "I'm already set." He muttered, turning his head back to the flames. Yeong-shin hummed, returning to helping Seo-bi and the other pair pack for their awaiting journey.
"Say, Beom-pal." Chang broke the silence in the group as they walked, turning to Beom-pal, who was practically hugging himself to shield his body against the harsh winter temperatures. Beom-pal noticeably tensed at the mention of his name, biting the inside of his cheek. "Yeah...?" He mumbled, already regretting opening his mouth.
"So you're the nephew of Cho Hak-ju?" Beom-pal felt his blood run cold, the fear that Chang wouldn't accept him in the group at this newfound information. He mustered a nod, fearing that if he spoke, he'd let out a sob he didn't know he had been attempting to hold in. Chang's eyebrow raised, sensing the uncertainty in how Beom-pal was acting towards the situation. "Is there anything we should know about him? Or you for that matter." Chang pressed, earning a 'you should probably stop' look from Mu-yeong.
Beom-pal blocked out his voice, focusing on his breathing and where he was stepping. He gazed at the flowers that had been covered in a thin layer of snow, their colours dimmed but still noticeable. Beom-pal compared himself to a flower, the bud takes its time to open up.
He appreciated the small things life threw at him like that. He reminds himself of the evening he went flower picking with his late mother, weaving daisy chains and falling asleep in the grass under the warm sun. The first and last day he had ever felt loved. The death of his mother left him without anyone to care for him, so he was taken under Hak-ju's wing, despite his demand to live with his cousin, the Queen Consort.
Now he had no hope with a happy family, expecting to be alone the moment this lingering parasite is found and destroyed.
His mother was a kind woman, not one to fall victim to Hak-ju and his unholy needs, she taught Beom-pal how to stick up for himself. But now that she was no longer in his life, he had lost his self confidence, and was now considered weak and unable.
He wishes for nothing more but to have her back in his life to support him.
"We should take a break, have some food. I'll go hunt for something for us to eat." Yeong-shin ordered, pulling his bow from his pant buckle, heading into a small opening in the forest beside their trail. Mu-yeong followed shortly after, taking his own weapon, his sword.
Beom-pal was now left alone with Chang and Seo-bi, still attempting to keep his eyes on the flowers below his feet. He heard an agitated sigh from Chang, followed by crunches of the thin snow as he approached the pair.
"God, I need some Soju. Or just... Something strong." It was known that Chang drank a lot, I mean, it was justifiable judging by the fact he had many duties and problems by being the Crown Prince. Not many people accepted him either, but he had a much easier life than Beom-pal.
"You should stop drinking so much, Your Highness. Maybe that is why you feel nauseous all the time." Seo-bi perked up, a look of concern on her features. Once again, Beom-pal caught himself staring at Seo-bi, undeniable fascination in his eyes, his gaze locked on her hands fixing a tear in her boot.
"I'm hungry." Beom-pal muttered, pulling the sleeves of his hanbok over his hands as he shivered. At his mutter, Seo-bi looked on towards the forest opening, no sign of Yeong-shin or Mu-yeong just yet. However, a laugh from the latter was heard from deep within, a proud roar of excitement. "They must have caught something good. Maybe a deer." Chang inquired, shrugging nonchalantly.
The thought made Beom-pal smile, a good meal after days of eating nothing but beef jerky and watered down porridge. "You like that thought, hm?" Seo-bi chuckled, giving a smirk back to him, clearly in mockery. Beom-pal, missing the clear teasing in her voice, nods, unable to look her in the eyes.
When Yeong-shin and Mu-yeong returned, they carried slabs of meat in both their arms, displaying their catches proudly. "Look at this, we caught a deer! It was on its last legs, it was an easy snatch." Mu-yeong laughed heartily, stretching as he set down the fresh meat on a tree stump.
The amount was indeed hefty, the sound of flesh hitting the wood beneath echoes through the foliage of the forest around them. Beom-pal's mouth watered at the sight, ready to scarf down the meat once it was cooked.
During the meal, he kept to himself, occasionally looking up if he heard Seo-bi speak. The meat was rich and juicy, it felt like when Beom-pal chewed his lip during Hak-ju's outrages. There was once that Hak-ju got physical, slapping Beom-il after he suggested an idea crucial for the army.
His uncle never liked to be wrong, and if his plans went wrong, Beom-il and Beom-pal would be at fault in his eyes. Beom-pal had started to feel much better now that he was apart of Chang's group, with no blame, no need to harm himself for happiness and no being forced to harm others for the success of the clan. He looked down at his scarred wrists, sighing as he recalled the night he cut.
"Hey." A stoic voice called out. "Where'd you get those?" Yeong-shin spoke, shuffling closer, almost comfortingly. Beom-pal raised his head, meeting the younger males gaze and attempting a smile. Yeong-shin pointed towards the healed wounds and tilted his head slightly to the left, as if acting out his previous question.
"I... Got into a fight... Nothing much more..." He lied, pulling his sleeves over his palm. He's already had this conversation with Beom-il before, which had resulted in yet another scolding. But he felt as if Yeong-shin cared for him the most out of everyone he knew, so eventually he'd come clean and admit to being a terrible magistrate who slits his wrists at any minor inconvenience.
"I can see they aren't battle wounds, Cho." The younger male broke the silence with a stern tone, causing Beom-pal to tense, pausing his chewing.
"You've been self-harming, haven't you?"