Delirium (1) – The Very First Death
Temarr had a dream.
No, it was an old memory.
A memory of the snowy day when he left, leaving Ren behind.
Ren’s face, who had clung to him crying all night begging him not to go, was full of tear stains that had dried white.
That day in particular, Ren’s whining was severe. When had he maturely sent his hyung off well—he cried desperately, screaming not to go.
Ren’s eyes, who should have collapsed exhausted but stubbornly stayed up all night through sheer willpower, were red as a rabbit’s. Without any proper luggage, just taking out and wearing the thickest winter clothes, Temarr left the village, and Ren followed.
Even when he left him far behind and ran, so that he wouldn’t be visible, Ren followed tirelessly, falling as he came.
Even though he himself had already left this village and was gone.
As if to see even the path he’d taken, like someone who thought if not now he’d never see it again, Ren followed crying and screaming.
With a Hero’s cruel hearing, Temarr could hear every single breath Ren took without missing any.
That crying that could be heard from a hundred li away—how could he pretend not to know?
In the end, Temarr had no choice but to return the way he’d left and stand before Ren, who had fallen while running down the hill.
The sleet that had started falling from dawn had accumulated enough to leave footprints.
Small footprints that had desperately run from atop that hill continued in a line. There were traces of rolling at spots where they were broken. The small body covered in snow everywhere and the bright red frozen face slowly looked up at Temarr.
Ren, who had been slowly looking at his worn shoes.
His young brother shed tears drop by drop, then slowly raised his head and wiped his tears roughly with the back of his hand. Then Ren’s eyes, meeting Temarr’s two eyes, curved beautifully beyond compare and created a bright smile.
As if he’d forgotten crying all dawn begging him not to go.
As if there was no sorrow or bitterness toward the hyung who, ignoring the plea to stay together just one more night, had run far alone because he didn’t want to show his departing back.
As if he’d completely forgotten crying so sorrowfully and pitifully.
As if he’d forgotten all that sadness, Ren smiled brightly.
In the village frozen pure white with winter snow and biting cold, Ren alone smiled like spring.
Looking at Ren’s transparent eyes shining with tears, Temarr ended up smiling too. Without even knowing hot tears were flowing down his cheeks.
Thus young Ren saw Temarr off to the village entrance to the very end.
Temarr quickly disappeared from view, but after becoming invisible to Ren, he stopped walking. The presence of Ren struggling back to the cabin wouldn’t let Temarr leave. Temarr leaned his back against a large tree and waited until Ren safely entered the cabin. Coming down had been in one breath, but Ren arriving back at the cabin was two hours later.
Temarr was late to the procession from following Ren’s presence, and had to be beaten by those who didn’t like the young Hero boy. Though a Hero’s body was robust and felt little pain, it was violence difficult for the boy Temarr to endure. Only the miserable feeling remained vivid, so Temarr just chose to forget.
After returning to the cabin, Ren fell ill with a terrible cold.
The reason his steps home were slow was because he walked following Hyung Temarr’s footprints stamped in the thin snow.
Temarr had no way of knowing this.
Just as Ren didn’t know that Temarr had hidden himself and waited for him.
That he fell ill because of it was naturally also a fact only each of them knew.
The scene changed. Only the blue sky remained the same, but he felt uneasy. As Temarr stood for a moment holding his breath against the tinnitus disturbing his mind, someone tapped his back.
“What are you doing, we need to depart!”
It was Ruman with a youthful face.
His blonde hair, as if it contained sunlight itself, swished.
His hair grown to a bob cut rustled messily in the wind.
Temarr’s hand moved naturally and tidied Ruman’s hair.
“Honestly. So meticulous. As if afraid someone will say you don’t have a younger brother.”
Ruman spoke reproachfully then smiled brightly. Then he patted his shoulder as if to say thanks.
But no.
It didn’t seem like something he’d done, his body moved on its own.
Temarr thought someone was controlling him.
His unmoving mouth made a sound, saying “Yeah” in a voice more affectionate than expected.
The young Heroes with bright expressions had tense faces.
The youthful Heroes rode war horses several times larger than their own frames magnificently toward their destination—Dirus Cliff, which boasted the terrifying notoriety that one misstep would send you falling to break your neck. The horses stopped at the cliff’s edge. Their destination was the battlefield below this cliff. A place worse than hell where bloody battles took place and broken bodies and ruined souls tangled together.
But there was no fear on the Heroes’ faces.
Drunk on repeated victories, only glory.
Perhaps they were all pretending to forget the fear behind it.
“Let’s try not to get hurt if possible.”
“Yeah.”
“Be careful.”
“Especially Temarr! You can’t hog it all just because they give a lot of bonuses, okay?”
When Ruman teased, Temarr smiled brightly.
The smile that settled on his masculine face with the narrow space between eyebrows and eyes was boyish for that age, so everyone giggled and smiled along.
What does it mean to have comrades to go out with?
Temarr was neither afraid nor scared. His blood just boiled from the cool tension and the predetermined victory. Only that, and he firmly believed everyone here would be safe. Because they were stars who wouldn’t lose, the King’s proud swords, and immortal Heroes who wouldn’t die. Because they were Heroes whom people upheld, who commanded the battlefield and carved fear into enemy souls. There was nothing for them to fear.
“H-hey, guys… R-really, let’s not get hurt. Please…”
There’s always someone timid everywhere.
There was one among the Heroes too. ‘□□□’
What was it?
As if fog had settled in his head, as if bugs had eaten it away, he couldn’t remember his face or name.
Only the trembling voice and gentle tone were vivid.
“You worry too much. You’re good at combat, so why?”
“I-if anyone gets hurt…”
“We’re Heroes. We don’t die easily!”
“Geloman. Are you nervous?”
Temarr’s mouth moved.
Geloman, who had the largest build among the Heroes.
A body far larger than an adult warrior despite still being a boy.
He blinked his cow-like large eyes.
“About what?”
“Never mind.”
Everyone’s reaction to Geloman’s response was “Figures.”
Geloman was a Hero without fear.
So his comrades didn’t need to be afraid either.
But □□□ always worried a lot.
Despite having the most combat experience and being the best skilled.
As always, they considered it excessive worry from a kind friend, and the young Heroes believed without doubt that they would return safely with victory that day too, with no one getting hurt.
However, that belief was shattered by death.
“Get a hold of yourself! Get a hold of yourself!”
“A priest! Call a priest!”
“H-Hero-nim… Now the kingdom is doomed… ill-fated…”
“Y-you’ve bled too much…”
“That can’t be.”
“…□□□?”
“…”
“□□□! H-hey, get a hold of yourself.”
That belief shouldn’t have been broken.
That day it shattered into pieces. So much that it could never be put back together.
It was the 3rd death Temarr faced, and the death that announced the beginning of the long 7-year war.
The scar carved into their minds.
It was the event that took away the remaining humanity that couldn’t be washed away.
The reason they were okay even while feeling the pain of their bodies breaking and being put back together on the bloody battlefield was thanks to the belief that at least their comrades wouldn’t die. They only realized this after offering one life. After that, no one smiled on the battlefield anymore.
No one spoke the names of family or friends on the battlefield anymore. Hope, heart, feelings—all were buried on the battlefield along with that young Hero’s death.
It was the same for Temarr.
Rampaging as a killer on the battlefield, he only returned the death carved into him to the enemy as terror.
Temarr was curious.
The Hero’s power that saved him every time he received wounds leading to death, deep stab wounds in his back, that authority that could save the lives of other stars, the ‘Hero’s Miracle’—why, why didn’t it apply to him alone? Temarr was always curious.
But the 7-year war was long and long, and spending days stained with blood, Temarr forgot even that.
What remained at the end of the long war was… nothing. When he looked at the corpses being burned after the 7-year war ended. Looking at the flames rising high, Temarr thought perhaps it was fortunate for him who died early. Temarr, who thought it wouldn’t matter if it had been himself, only remembered Ren when it was time to return.
When Temarr finally returned to the cabin where Ren was, he was already broken somewhere. Perhaps from much earlier.
Temarr, who had been pretending to be fine, needed something to immerse himself in.
Ren was no longer a young boy. Looking unfamiliarly at his younger brother standing on the boundary between boy and young man, Temarr…
