"Ah...ahhh...haaah! Hhnghh...ahh...hckk..!"
Min Ho's ragged sobs shattered the silence of the woods, raw and unrestrained. His body trembled as he knelt on the damp earth, his fingers digging into the dirt as though grasping for something, anything to anchor himself. His wails grew louder, each one laced with a desperation that made Cheon Sa's chest tighten.
Cheon Sa exhaled sharply and turned away, unable to bear the sight of his friend crumbling. Min Ho looked too small, too fragile, too lost. It was almost unbearable to watch. So instead, Cheon Sa fixed his gaze on the trees, letting Min Ho's grief wash over him like a passing wind felt, but not embraced.
Min Ho had been crying for a while now, loud, unashamed, inconsolable. Cheon Sa let him. He didn't offer comfort, nor did he waste breath on empty reassurances. He just stood there, waiting.
Waiting for the sobs to quiet.
Waiting for Min Ho to regain control.
Waiting, though he didn't quite understand why Min Ho had to cry so loudly when there were more pressing concerns like for instance what his wail might attract, they also needed to rest, find something to eat, and gather their strength if they were to continue searching. Cheon Sa couldn't even remember the last time they had eaten. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he knew better than to ignore it. Food meant strength, and strength meant survival. Even if he didn't feel hunger gnawing at him, he knew his body needed sustenance to keep moving, to keep from collapsing.
He had never collapsed from hunger before. He wasn't about to start now.
And he wouldn't let Min Ho, who already looked as if he had lost too much weight, reach that point either.
Yet, despite his practical thoughts, something twisted in his chest.
A strange, tight feeling.
He wasn't sure why.
He hadn't cried when his sister died.
He had only stood there, staring, as her body swayed ever so slightly, suspended from the ceiling, the rope biting deep into the delicate skin of her neck. Her face once so full of life was drained of color, her lips parted as if she had tried to say something in her final moments. But there were no words. Only silence.
And he had felt nothing.
No grief. No shock. Not even anger.
Just an empty stillness settling inside him, as if the sight before him was nothing more than another passing moment in a life that had long taught him not to feel.
He hadn't cried when he walked away from his home, leaving his sick father behind in that empty house. He hadn't shed a single tear when he returned days later, only to find his father lifeless in bed, his body stiff and cold, as though he had simply given up waiting.
Even then, he hadn't felt sorrow.
No guilt. No regret.
Just a strange, tight tug in his chest. A discomfort. A weight.
But that weight vanished the moment he set everything ablaze. The house, his father's body still lying motionless on the bed, every trace of the life he had once known, swallowed by fire. He hadn't bothered to dig a grave, hadn't waited for the ashes to cool. He simply stood there, watching as the flames devoured it all, their crackling whispers drowning out any thought of regret.
He had watched the flames rise, had breathed in the smoke, and had walked away without looking back. The only things he took were what truly mattered, the box and his weapon, some food and a water flask.
Everything else, he left to burn.
And now, here was Min Ho, who was falling apart over Dong Ha's disappearance.
It irritated him.
It confused him.
Dong Ha wasn't dead. He was missing. There was a difference.
The only clue they found were set of footprints, mixed with those of horses hooves prints and a carriage wheels trail. He had either run off on his own or had been taken. Either way, Cheon Sa didn't see the point in mourning someone who wasn't even confirmed dead.
Yet Min Ho wept like he had lost his whole family.
Cheon Sa inhaled deeply, tilting his head back to watch the birds flying above. A part of him wondered, if he had known things would turn out like this, would he have agreed to travel with Min Ho and Dong Ha?
Probably not.
If he had sensed even the slightest trouble, he would have left them behind just as he had left his father. And this time, he wouldn't have turned back.
He had never truly been alone before. But he knew he was certain he would be fine.
But first, they had to find Dong Ha.
"Do you have any of Dong Ha's belongings with you?"
The question caught Cheon Sa off guard. He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Why?"
Min Ho wiped his face, his eyes still swollen but strangely clear. He had stopped crying.
"So we can burn them," Min Ho said. "And say a prayer."
Cheon Sa's breath hitched.
For a moment, he just stared.
Then it clicked.
He had been blind, too caught up in his own thoughts to see it.
Min Ho wasn't just crying.
He was saying goodbye.
In their village, when a person went missing and wasn't found after several days, a search party would be sent out. If they returned empty-handed, the village shaman would make the final call. The missing person would be declared dead, and their belongings, usually just a few pieces of clothing would be burned. The family and friends would weep one last time, accepting the loss. And after that, life would move on.
That was what Min Ho was doing now.
He was following tradition.
"Don't tell me you think Dong Ha is dead," Cheon Sa said quietly.
"Exactly," Min Ho replied, his voice surprisingly firm. "We've searched long enough. If this were home, we would've already burned his things and said our prayers."
Cheon Sa's jaw tightened. "Stop talking nonsense, Min Ho."
"It's not nonsense!" Min Ho snapped, frustration bubbling in his voice. "Be realistic! There's no trace of him anywhere!"
Cheon Sa clenched his fists. "There's no blood. No sign of struggle. Nothing! Which means he moved. And that means we can find him. There was a carriage, we should follow the tracks. Maybe he was taken by slavers and needs our help."
Min Ho scoffed, shaking his head. "You can follow the tracks all you want. I don't care."
"Min Ho!" Cheon Sa growled, his patience slipping.
Min Ho met his glare without fear.
"You don't understand," he said bitterly. "You're an outsider. You don't know what it's like to wait for someone who will never come back. Do you know how many people go mad that way? Hoping, searching, wasting their lives on ghosts?"
Cheon Sa stiffened.
Min Ho's words struck something deep, something he didn't want to acknowledge.
Because he did understand.
He understood all too well.
The feeling of waiting for someone who would never return?
He had lived it.
Despite his outward stoicism, Min Ho's words struck a chord deep within Cheon Sa. Being labeled an outsider was a familiar sting, one he had endured since joining the tribe. Although many accepted him, there were always those who viewed him with scorn or envy.
"I don't care about your traditions," Cheon Sa said, voice low. He knew how deeply Min Ho valued these customs, and his words were not meant to dismiss them lightly. "I'm going to keep looking."
Min Ho turned away. "Then go. But I won't follow."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The birds had stopped singing.
The wind had died down.
Cheon Sa knew that Min Ho wasn't thinking clearly and he knew his personality so well that, Min Ho was someone that means only half of what he was saying expecially when he was unrest and them arguing wouldn't solve anything and separation could cause more problems. Min Ho had learnt some self defense with a sword but some even labelled him as a coward because during hunt he always does the least, while Dong Ha tries to prove himself as the strongest, Min Ho was always at the back riding on the glory, and his best phrase was saying that he had two strong friends that would protect him so he had nothing to worry about and that was why he was contended with basic training and never want to do more so if Cheon Sa leave him then that means he would also be exposed to danger.
Cheon Sa drew a deep breath, striving to steady his thoughts. "Since we have none of Dong Ha's belongings to burn, what should we do?" he asked, attempting a different approach as his eyes softened.
Min Ho's expression softened slightly, a hint of resolution replacing his earlier despair. "Let's head to the capital," he suggested. "We can perform his rites there, even if we have to improvise."
Cheon Sa nodded in agreement, though his mind was already formulating plans to continue the search for Dong Ha. He understood the importance of honoring traditions to provide Min Ho with a semblance of closure, even as he held onto hope that their friend might still be found.