Gungbong blinked in disbelief, unsure if she had really understood the children’s words, then asked cautiously:
“Gungbong, did you... understand what the children said?”
Startled, Gungbong blinked in alarm and shot back a question.
“Huh? U-Understand? What do you mean?”
“I mean, it seemed like you understood what Hwanji and Hwana just said. I never said anything about giving you a ride, and the kids were speaking in snake language. But then you refused their offer, saying you didn’t need a ride.”
Everyone stopped walking at my words and turned to look at Gungbong.
I clearly hadn’t said anything aloud. It was Hwanji and Hwana who had offered her a ride—and they did so in the serpents’ tongue. So when I pointed that out, everyone suddenly got interested.
Gungbong’s reaction made it sound like she knew exactly what the twins had said.
She froze, unable to say a word. Only her eyes were rolling wildly.
“Gungbong?”
When I called her nickname again, she frantically waved her hands and shouted:
“I—I didn’t understand anything! It’s just... um... instinct? Yes! Instinct! I just picked up on it from context!”
Yeah right... What a load of crap.
Cold sweat was beading up on Gungbong’s forehead and running down her temples.
She looked like she was seriously nervous.
But Gungbong never got nervous over stuff like this, so I figured it must be a lingering effect of her not being fully recovered ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) yet.
After all, when you’ve just come out of a fever, even a bit of movement can make you break into a cold sweat, right?
As for understanding the kids, I doubted it was really instinct like she claimed—but fine, let’s chalk it up to dumb luck, like a cow backing up and accidentally stepping on a mouse.
After all, I’m supposed to be the only one who can understand the kids in this world.
And really, if she’s blurting out nonsense like “instinct,” then it must’ve just been a crazy coincidence. Who else but me could possibly understand what they’re saying?
Yeah, whatever. Just a fluke. Still... her body clearly isn’t doing great. I should ask Hwanji and Hwana to give her a lift.
With that thought in mind, I turned to ask the kids—but before I could, I noticed the looks people were giving each other.
Everyone wore the exact same expression, as if they’d just heard something they were absolutely not supposed to.
It looked like I wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing.
I mean, “instinct”?
That word just didn’t fit Gungbong.
She was famous for being totally oblivious to social cues. If Gungbong had that kind of instinct, then I wasn’t a reptile-loving, insect-breeding weirdo—I’d be the most normal, straight-laced man in the world.
And sure enough, no one seemed to believe she’d actually understood the kids.
And in that silence—
—came an explosion of laughter.
“Pffft—HA! I’ve heard a lot of ridiculous things in my life, but Gungbong claiming to ‘pick up on context’? Now that’s a new one!”
“Hohohoho! Gungbong, that was hilarious.”
“She must’ve really been sick, huh?”
“Pfft—sorry! I couldn’t help it.”
Everyone burst into uncontrollable laughter.
It was just that absurd.
Even Ji-ryong, Eunbong, Monk Jaheo, and heck—even Tenzin, who hadn’t been with us long—knew that Gungbong was anything but normal.
Hu-gae had even said once:
“I mean, sure, she’s from the Peng Clan, but... is she really Do-ryong’s kin?”
The Peng Clan had a reputation in Murim for being all brawn and no brain. But Gungbong? She made even that stereotype look generous.
Clearly overwhelmed by the reaction, Gungbong shouted:
“W-What?! What’s so weird about that?!”
Her forehead dripped with cold sweat as she looked around in panic.
Tang Hwa-eun stepped forward, suppressing her laughter, and gently reached out with a cloth to wipe Gungbong’s forehead.
“Gungbong, are you sure you’re okay? You’re sweating a lot. Everyone, let’s stop teasing her. She’s clearly not back to full strength yet.”
Just as she said, sweat was now dripping freely from Gungbong’s forehead and behind her ears.
Before we set out, I’d asked how she was feeling, and she’d said she was totally fine. But now that she was spouting nonsense and sweating buckets, it was obvious she hadn’t fully recovered.
“I—I’m fine!”
Gungbong flinched away from Hwa-eun’s hand like it was some kind of monstrous threat, shouting in alarm.
It was just a hand with a cloth—but her reaction was as if Hwa-eun had tried to stab her.
Hwa-eun looked momentarily embarrassed, then turned to me and said:
“So-ryong, I think we should ask Hwanji and Hwana for help. Gungbong’s not well enough to walk.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Gungbong, since you’re still not feeling well, ride on Hwanji or Hwana’s back, okay?”
I nodded and called the twins over.
Just in case this “instinct” excuse really was a sign of deeper issues—and given how much she was sweating—I wasn’t going to leave her walking.
“Hwanji, Hwana, I’m sorry, but could you carry Gungbong for a while?”
—Shuaaa. 『Of course, So-ryong.』
—Shia. 『Yes, So-ryong.』
The twins nodded and slithered toward Gungbong.
But as they neared her, she recoiled in horror.
“N-No! I—I can walk on my own!”
This, after begging to ride them so many times before getting sick.
It was bizarre, honestly—but I couldn’t just let her walk in that condition.
Her cold sweat was flowing like a faucet. At this rate, she’d dehydrate before long.
“You were so eager to ride them before. You clearly aren’t well, so just go ahead and ride.”
“He’s right. Go on, Gungbong.”
“Nooo!”
Despite repeated encouragement, Gungbong bolted to the far edge of the group—putting as much distance between us as possible.
Hwa-eun shot me a look, clearly puzzled.
A single polite refusal would’ve been understandable, but fleeing like that?
Then again, I thought, it’s not in Gungbong’s nature to refuse things out of politeness.
Watching her run off, Hwa-eun asked me silently:
『“So-ryong, is Gungbong acting... strange?”
“Not sure. She’s always been strange.”
“True, but still...”』
The question of whether Gungbong was acting stranger than usual hung in the air—but we decided to just move on.
『“If she gets worse, she’ll tell us. Let’s keep going.”
“Alright, So-ryong.”』
“Alright, let’s move out. Gungbong, let us know if you feel worse.”
“Y-Yes, okay.”
As our group started walking again, I couldn’t help but glance back.
There was Gungbong, trailing behind us awkwardly—eyes darting around like a frightened puppy.
***
We were moving at a comfortable pace when we reached a small stream flowing down from the mountain.
That’s when nearly everyone spoke at once.
“So Sohyeop, why don’t we rest here for the day?”
“So-ryong, should we stop here for now?”
“So-ryong, let’s take a break here.”
They had laughed earlier, sure—but it seemed Gungbong was still on everyone’s mind.
There was still about two hours left before sunset, but I agreed. It was best to stop here today.
Gungbong had managed to keep up better than expected, but that didn’t mean she should push herself.
“In that case, shall we rest here?”
I responded with a half-smile, and everyone nodded in agreement.
“Sounds good, So-ryong.”
“I’ll get the tents set up.”
“I’ll start on dinner.”
As soon as I said we’d camp here, everyone moved like clockwork.
My older brother, Ji-ryong, and Monk Jaheo began putting up the tents. The translator, Eunbong, and my sister-in-law headed off to prepare food.
Everyone had gotten so used to camping life, they didn’t need to be told what to do anymore.
A little while later, after soft reeds had been cut and laid inside the first finished tent, the kids—who’d clearly been waiting—rushed inside in a blur.
Fighting to get in first, of course.
—Tsr-r-rk! 『I’m first!』
—Kyoot! 『L-Let’s go together!』
—Ksss-sst.
Cho and Bini ran in first, Dong still perched on their heads, followed by Sandan and Hongdan.
Behind them came Ranghyang and the rest of the children.
It seemed they were all eager to settle inside the tent before the chilly mountain winds swept down at sundown.
Since we were camping mid-mountain, the cold gusts would soon start blowing in from the peak.
“Kids, be careful not to break the trees holding up the tent again.”
—Tsr-r-rk. 『Got it, Dad.』
—Myuu.
—Myu-myu.
I warned them just in case—like that time a few days ago when they broke a support tree while goofing off. I turned my head—
—and spotted Gungbong hovering nearby.
She was sitting on a cut tree stump, glancing around nervously.
But when our eyes met, she raised her hand just slightly, like an elementary schooler with a question.
She clearly had something to say, so I walked over.
She fidgeted with her hands and said:
“U-Um...”
“Yes? What is it?”
“I-I was wondering if... I could maybe go out and hunt a bit.”
“Hunt?”
“Y-Yes. H-Hunt.”
After all the nonsense she’d spouted earlier and the cold sweat, I wasn’t sure she should. But you know how some people just have to move around when they feel off?
Especially martial artists in Murim. They’re even worse about that.
So I kept it casual.
“You don’t need my permission. Just don’t go too far, alright? You’re not completely back to normal.”
“O-Okay.”
At my go-ahead, a small smile bloomed across her tightly drawn face.
It seemed like she was about to burst with excitement as she spun around, ready to sprint off into the forest.
“Gungbong?”
At my voice, she froze mid-stride.
Startled, she turned back and asked nervously:
“Y-Yes!?”
I smiled and pointed to the stump.
“Your bow.”
She’d left it behind.
Letting out a flustered “Oh!” she dashed back, slung the bow over her shoulder, and bolted off into the forest like her tail was on fire.
And watching her go, one thought kept surfacing.
Is it really okay to just let her wander off like that?
Something seemed even more off than usual.
She’s normally one screw loose... but today she’s missing, like, three.
***
The moment Gungbong disappeared into the woods, I called out to Yeondu in my thoughts.
I couldn’t shake the feeling.
Something about letting her go off like that just didn’t sit right.
Yeondu.
—Shaaa. 『Yes, So-ryong. You called?』
I turned toward the tent where she was resting, and sure enough, her little head poked out from the opening.
She was bundled up in the cold-weather gear Yo-hwa had crafted, wearing it like a cozy sock.
‘Yeondu, let’s go check on Gungbong together.’
—Shaaa? 『You think something’s wrong with that woman, Gungbong?』
‘Yeah. I didn’t think much of it when she said she was going hunting, but I’m getting a weird feeling. Let’s follow her, just in case.’
—Sha. 『Understood.』
I pulled her hood up so only her eyes peeked out, then wrapped her around me. In a flash, we took off into the sky.
“So-ryong, where are you going?”
“Ryong, where to?”
Hwa-eun and Sister Seol called out as they gathered firewood, and I called back.
“Gungbong went out hunting, but I’m getting a bad feeling about it.”
“Really? She’s not even fully recovered... Please be careful.”
“I will.”
“Come back safe, So-ryong.”
“Thanks, Sister Seol.”
We soared into the sky, heading straight toward the direction Gungbong had gone.
The sun had dropped low, and the mountain winds were turning sharp. My ears stung from the cold.
I glanced at Yeondu, worried.
“You okay? Not too cold?”
—Shaaa. 『I’m fine. This outfit Yo-hwa made is surprisingly warm.』
Good. At least I didn’t have to worry about her.
I turned my eyes downward, scanning for Gungbong.
Just as a wide clearing came into view beneath us—
—I saw her.
Bursting out of the forest and running full speed across the mountain ridge.
But the way she was running...
Why is she running on all fours?
Gungbong was sprinting across the mountain like a wild beast. On all fours.
