Chapter 17
There Are Bad People Everywhere in This World
After finishing their meal, Gus took Juhwan down the mountain.
Instead of heading toward the village, Gus walked along the edge where the mountain met the plains.
The tall trees gradually became sparse, replaced by many small trees with bare branches. The number of leaves also decreased. Instead, loose gravel increased, making the slippery winter mountain even harder to walk on.
Stumbling and nearly slipping, Juhwan diligently followed behind Gus along the forest path.
Unlike Juhwan, Gus moved as lightly as if he were walking on flat ground. Even though he limped with one leg, he was still faster than Juhwan. He truly felt like a man of the mountains.
After walking for quite a while, the trees began to grow taller again in scattered patches. The gravel gradually lessened as well. When they reached a small stretch of flat land, a small house that looked like it might collapse came into view.
“#####.”
Gus pointed at it and said something. It seemed to mean it was his home.
Gus had Juhwan wait briefly in front of the house before going inside. A creaking sound echoed eerily. Shortly after, Gus came back out holding two long bows in his hands.
They looked strange. The bows Juhwan knew were curved like a D or C shape, but the ones Gus brought out were straight.
Rather than bows, they looked like long, flat wooden boards with a string attached.
Only the slightly carved grip in the middle made it recognizable as a bow—without that, it would have just looked like a plank with a string tied to it.
They were also incredibly long. Slightly taller than Gus himself—almost two meters, perhaps. Nearly as tall as Juhwan.
Gus placed one into Juhwan’s hands. Then he pointed alternately at a nearby tree and his own bow. Repeating the gesture several times, he spoke as if telling him to watch carefully.
“##.”
“Watch carefully.”
When Juhwan repeated the words, Gus gave a crooked smile on his wrinkled face.
After confirming Juhwan was watching, Gus held the bow and fixed his gaze on the tree.
Looking at the tree, Gus breathed quietly—inhale, exhale, then drew in breath again. After steadying his breathing several times, he finally raised the bow.
Holding the bow with his left hand, he drew the string with his right hand holding the arrow.
The arrow seemed to be made of bamboo. Judging by the visible nodes, that must be the case. However, it had been carefully smoothed so the joints weren’t rough, and its color was a deep brown. It even had a slight sheen, as if coated with something. Two feathers were attached to the end.
The tip of the arrow, extending in a straight line, was rounded. It wasn’t the usual triangular arrowhead—just wood carved into a round shape. Maybe it was for practice. Since both the bow and arrow were unfamiliar, Juhwan couldn’t tell what they were used for.
Gus’s expression as he aimed at the target looked like a wax figure. Like a lifeless old tree, time seemed to vanish from his wrinkled face. It felt as if time itself had stopped.
After holding the taut bowstring for a moment, Gus released his fingers. The arrow shot forward like a flash and struck the exact center of the tree trunk. Until that moment, Gus’s body had not moved at all.
Juhwan didn’t know much about bows, but he could tell Gus was extremely skilled. His posture while shooting was upright and still, not at all like that of an old man—simply impressive.
The arrow stuck in the tree for a moment before falling to the ground. Since the tip was wooden, it probably didn’t penetrate deeply.
Gus demonstrated once more, then stepped aside as if telling Juhwan to try.
When Juhwan imitated him and held the bow, Gus adjusted his posture properly.
Recalling Gus’s actions, Juhwan drew the string of the bow without an arrow. After steadying his breathing, he released it—but Gus shook his head and demonstrated again.
“####.”
Watching Gus’s words and actions closely, it seemed he meant not to move at all. Strange. Juhwan had only slightly moved the fingers holding the string.
But as he repeated the motion several times, Juhwan realized that he was moving—just barely. Even if it was only enough to make his hair sway, his body still shifted slightly.
However, knowing it didn’t mean his body would follow immediately.
That afternoon, he continued practicing releasing the bowstring. He learned that to shoot a bow, one had to become like a stone statue.
Archery… was ridiculously hard.
There was still plenty of daylight left when Gus tapped Juhwan on the back.
“####.”
As he spoke, he pointed toward the mountain. It seemed to mean they were done and should head back.
It looked like Gus was giving him the bow. Through gestures, he told him to keep practicing. It also seemed like he wanted him to practice the footwork he had learned while walking earlier. Well, that went without saying.
As Juhwan slung the bow over his shoulder and began walking, Gus took the lead with quick steps. It seemed less about guiding the way and more about demonstrating body movements.
Juhwan carefully watched Gus and followed him, recalling the words, movements, and archery techniques he had learned today.
Learn diligently and master it.
I want to become someone useful as soon as possible—even if it’s just one second sooner.
I want to become a man who can provide plenty of food for my wife and daughter.
The sky is blue. The snow is white. Lizzie’s hair sparkles. Juhwan’s hair is black, and the meat is yellowish.
Dorothy flopped down onto the bed. She looked at the wooden ceiling above, then at the hole in the roof. Smoke rose in wisps and escaped through it.
Beside her, the hearth burned with red and yellow flames. It was warm. Sleepy.
“Burp!”
A sound escaped her mouth, and something slipped out with a pop. It smelled terrible. Dorothy pinched her nose and rolled over. When her stomach pressed against the bed, it became hard to breathe. Her belly felt so full it might burst.
“Huaaah…”
As she exhaled deeply, she heard Lizzie’s small laughter echoing through the house. Ever since Juhwan arrived, Lizzie laughed often. Before that, neither Lizzie nor Dorothy ever laughed.
That’s good.
She liked hearing Lizzie laugh. Every time she heard it, something warm seemed to fill her body—like sitting beside the hearth.
I’m full.
Her stomach felt like it was getting bigger and bigger. It was as if the meat inside her was growing. Dorothy placed both hands on her belly and closed her eyes. It had been delicious. She hadn’t known oats could taste so good—she had always thought they were awful.
Normally, she didn’t eat anything in the morning. When the sun rose high and she became very hungry, she would wait a long time before eating a small amount of oat porridge.
But today, she ate as soon as Juhwan left. Lizzie looked troubled, muttering that there was too much food on the iron plate. Dorothy didn’t understand why that was a problem. There was a lot of food—why would that be bad? There was more than enough for both of them.
“Hehe.”
With her eyes closed, Dorothy gently rubbed her swollen belly. There was still some food left. She wished her stomach would shrink quickly so she could eat again.
Suddenly, Juhwan’s face came to mind. When he left, he had patted her head with his large hand. Her father had never done that before. It made her incredibly happy.
“…”
Since Juhwan arrived, she had already eaten her fill of meat twice. It was wonderful. But who exactly was Juhwan? She didn’t know.
Lizzie said she was Father’s wife, but no one explained who Juhwan was. The village chief said he was Lizzie’s husband—but then what did that make him to Dorothy?
If he wasn’t her father or mother, would he leave someday? Since he was Lizzie’s husband, would he take only Lizzie with him? Then what would happen to Dorothy?
“…”
At night, she dreamed that the meat grew rabbit ears and legs and ran away. She woke up in shock and checked the bowl, afraid it might be gone. Fortunately, it hadn’t grown legs. The meat was still quietly inside.
Thinking about that dream made her uneasy. What if Lizzie also left with Juhwan, just like in the dream?
“Huh?”
Strange. Just moments ago, she could hear Lizzie walking around—but now the sound was gone. Suddenly, she felt scared.
Maybe she had run away. Maybe Juhwan had taken her. Maybe they left Dorothy behind…
Suddenly, her father’s voice thundered in her mind.
You useless thing!
He always called her a useless girl.
If only you were a boy—I could raise you as a hunter, a worker. Girls are useless. Just eating up food. Be quiet, or I’ll throw you away somewhere.
He always said that. She couldn’t remember clearly, but she had once been kicked out of the house. She remembered crying in the darkness.
It was dark… there were hooting sounds… maybe wolves howling in the distance. Or was that from inside the house? She didn’t know. But she clearly remembered crying outside…
Dorothy suddenly sat up. She had to find Lizzie. Before Lizzie—before her stepmother—left her behind, she had to go after her.
She jumped off the bed and ran first to the container holding the meat. The meat was important. Even if they left her behind, they wouldn’t leave the meat. They would definitely take it.
Fortunately, the meat was still there. Even the wolf fur remained. That meant it was okay. Lizzie had probably just gone out to work.
“…”
Still uneasy, Dorothy walked toward the door.
But before opening it, she heard men’s voices. Something was strange—they sounded like they were arguing. The men spoke in harsh, threatening tones.
She pressed her ear to the door, but couldn’t hear clearly. She thought she caught the word “meat.”
Dorothy ran to the side and slightly opened the wooden shutter.
Three large men stood near the door. Beside them were two big wooden boxes.
She had seen those men before. They had come looking for her father. Her father seemed afraid of them.
Back when her stepmother was still alive, when those men came, her father ran away, leaving only her and her stepmother behind. When he returned, he beat her stepmother terribly—so badly that she fell ill and eventually died.
Lizzie…
Would Lizzie be okay? What if she got beaten to death like her stepmother? Juhwan wouldn’t hit her… right? He wasn’t her father… so maybe it would be okay?
The men grinned at Lizzie. They held axes, sickles, and clubs in their hands. It was terrifying. Something bad felt like it was about to happen.
The face of her father, her stepmother, and those men she once saw overlapped in her mind.
The man standing in front looked toward the house and spoke harshly.
“Answer properly! What’s that smell?!”
Another man beside him added,
“You’re the one who stole the meat, aren’t you?”
Lizzie shook her head.
“No. My husband hunted it.”
But the men didn’t believe her. They shouted one after another:
“What nonsense are you spouting?!”
“Do you think hunting is that easy?!”
“You wench—your husband died and we helped you survive by finding you a new one, and now you’re stealing?!”
“Hah, unbelievable. We didn’t even know you were a thief—we even brought tools like hammers and nails for you.”
“Hey! We should go inside and check. Let’s see what you stole.”
“It’s really not true! My husband hunted it!”
The men shouted angrily while Lizzie shook her head, on the verge of tears.
When they tried to force their way inside, Lizzie spread her arms to block the door.
But the men shoved her aside, knocking her to the ground, and began kicking the door.
Bang! Bang!
The loud noise echoed through the house.
I’m scared. I’m scared.
What should she do? The men were coming in. Big men, bigger than her father, were coming into the house.
Dorothy backed away from the window and looked around frantically. Her legs trembled so much she could barely stand.
A strange whimper escaped her mouth. She shouldn’t cry—if she did, they would hit her. Just like her father. They would punch her. Kick her. It was terrifying.
Even when she covered her mouth, the sound leaked through her fingers.
Then she saw the large bed. It was big enough for Juhwan, Lizzie, and Dorothy to all sleep together and still have space.
If I hide there, they won’t see me.
Dorothy crawled under the bed.
