Blood Moon Rising Over The Plains - Chapter 3: Language (1)

I glanced briefly at the boisterous crowd and quickly lowered my gaze to the ground. Traveling through areas without villages had forced me to stay among these invasive wanderers, and this only made my sense of alienation more acute.

Each of them moved with precision according to their assigned tasks. In the midst of all this noisy activity, the only ones who remained still were myself and the man who seemed to be their leader. Unlike me, comfortably stretching my legs on a rotting, collapsed log, he sat awkwardly, his massive frame so hunched that his knees nearly reached his chest.

Crackle—
The occasional snowfall of midwinter had brought us closer to the campfire. However, unable to control its heat, I felt a wave of warmth gather on my face whenever the sparks leapt from the flames.

Clang!
The shattering sound of a ceramic liquor bottle, stolen from one of the villages, startled me. My body trembled reflexively.

Back at the first village, where soldiers patrolled the frontlines of the Great Wall, their nerves were always on edge. Unsurprisingly, the nearby brothel served as a release for their pent-up stress. Eight out of ten patrons had terrible manners, and I was no exception to their abuse. With nothing to my name but my mixed blood, I had resisted them as much as I could, but I was unprotected by the brothel’s owner and bore the brunt of their violence.

When those harrowing acts finally ended, leaving me bruised and disheveled, the laughter of the high-ranking courtesans—the owner’s prized moneymakers—followed. Even though I didn’t understand their language, their mocking expressions were clear. Their faces glowed with delight as they reveled in my misery. It was unmistakably ridicule.

In that place, I had no allies. Everyone treated me as nothing more than a commodity. The only thing I was given was a fixed portion of food—just enough to keep me alive and maintain a pleasing appearance. Yet, I had never eaten my fill.

The only way I could clothe my naked body was by draping scraps of discarded fabric over myself. Now, glancing down at my neatly dressed feet, I suddenly took note of the stark contrast.

The fabric brushing against my skin felt as light and smooth as if I were wrapped in silk underwear, or perhaps cashmere draped over my entire body. The finely embroidered floral patterns hinted that this was no ordinary attire for a commoner.

The sneakers peeking subtly from under my skirt stood out in stark contrast, looking completely out of place. Well, it made sense—I wasn’t exactly a fan of skirts or dresses, let alone these overly formal garments.

The fabric that wrapped around my legs restricted my movements every time I shifted. Was this meant to act as a substitute for ropes? As I idly entertained the thought, I realized it wasn’t entirely implausible. It restricted me that much.

Lost in pointless musings, staring absentmindedly at the fire, I suddenly felt something brush against the corner of my mouth. A soft, pressing force against my lower lip prompted an automatic reaction—I parted my lips out of habit.

“…?”
But instead of the usual languid kiss that inevitably led to rough intimacy, my tongue encountered a burst of sweet and tangy flavor. The hand that tilted my stiff jaw upward left me no choice but to follow its guidance.

“[I’ve been thinking this for a while—you’re far too thin. Although one part seems sufficient.]”

The man’s gaze briefly dipped below my lips before returning to meet my eyes. He placed the other half of the fruit he was holding into my mouth before stepping back nonchalantly.

Sweet…
How long had it been since I last tasted something like this? As the sweetness spread through my mouth, my stiff expression softened slightly, and I began to chew. Though it wasn’t as juicy as fresh fruit, the dried fruit was still plenty sweet.

Its slightly coarse surface yielded a chewy texture reminiscent of gotgam (dried persimmon) that I’d had once before. As I chewed, a tartness emerged, adding an addictive contrast to the sweetness and sending waves of pleasure across my tongue.

Even in the village, I never had proper meals. Before that, I’d subsisted on nothing but meal capsules, so this explosion of flavor on my tongue was entirely new. Startled, I chewed the dried fruit with wide, astonished eyes.

Occasionally, I’d been given roasted wild game by these people, but my body, accustomed to meal capsules, struggled to digest it. After that, they’d fed me something made from rice—a porridge-like dish that Noah had called juk.

“[It seems you like it.]”

Another piece of dried fruit was offered to me. It was round, about the size of two knuckles, and a deep reddish color with a flat shape. Like the previous one, it was coated with a fine white powder of sugar, hinting at its high sweetness.

I opened my mouth again to take the fruit that was brought close to my lips. I could eat this endlessly without ever getting tired of it.

“[Arangku.]”

The man tapped the pile of dried fruit in his palm and spoke. When I stared at him silently, he repeated the word again.

“[A. Rang. Ku.]”

The slow pronunciation, as though teaching a child, made me glance between the dried fruit and the man. Tentatively, I moved my lips.

“…Arangku?”

“[That’s right.]”

Seeming pleased, he gathered my hands together on my lap and dropped the dried fruits into them.

…What a strange feeling. My chest felt oddly fluttery. Troubled by the unfamiliar sensation, I lowered my head in frustration. Looking at the pile of arangku in my hands, I became unsure of what to do next.

If I placed them on my clothes, the white powder would dirty the fabric. But I couldn’t just sit there holding them forever.

I guess I had no choice. I didn’t want to get this pretty outfit dirty, though.

Suddenly, I bit my lip. Since when had I started thinking this way? Admiring the beauty of my clothes, or wanting to keep them clean—these were foreign concepts to me.

Until now, I had never tried to protect anything.

While I hesitated, a thin piece of fabric was draped over my lap. I glanced at the large hand that silently encouraged me to place the arangku onto the cloth.

His dark skin, contrasting sharply with my pale hands, made my white skin appear even whiter. His hand, twice the size of mine, had shown its strength countless times—enough to crush me effortlessly if he wanted to.

I had seen these hands leave countless people at the end of their lives, their tears of blood spilling before him. I had witnessed those who flailed in despair, begging this man on their knees for mercy, only to be mercilessly slaughtered without hesitation.

This man was an invader.
This man was a plunderer.

How many times had I reminded myself of this fact? And yet, I could say with certainty that even if someone came to save me, I wouldn’t turn my back on him without hesitation.

Because I couldn’t trust him? No.
Because I couldn’t guarantee my future? No.

It was because this man—

“[Strange. Why aren’t you eating?]”

I bit into the arangku pressed against my lips. That’s it. The reason for my hesitation was…

Because I knew he wouldn’t hit me.
Because I knew he wouldn’t treat me cruelly.
Because, in his actions toward me, it felt as though he had placed… some kind of emotion in them.

* * *

No matter how much I tried to sugarcoat it, our first meeting was far from ideal. If anything, it was bad—perhaps even terrible.

Amid a pile of corpses, I was forced into a situation where I had only two options: fall into this man’s arms or die. It was the worst of the worst, and there was no third path.

I was too desperate to survive, too frantic to even consider looking around at my surroundings.

Here, for the first time, I wore clothes that could actually be called clothing. For the first time, I thought the clothes were beautiful. For the first time, I didn’t want them to get dirty.

Only now, long after these thoughts should have felt natural, was I beginning to realize their weight.

I curled up against a body warmer than the fire and colder than its heat. My face was buried deeply, yet even as it pressed into the gaps, rough warmth brushed my exposed cheek, sweeping away the strands of hair that stifled my breath.

“[Khan, what should we do about the night watch?]”

“[Skip it this time… No, from now on, let’s leave it out altogether.]”

“[You’re finally acting like a true Khan (*Khan: a title for the leader of nomadic tribes). You used to insist on doing the night watch yourself, even when we said we’d handle it.]”

“[You’re too talkative, Buka.]”

“[When we return, the elders will be noisy for a while. After all, you’ve consistently refused every marriage proposal, and now the Khan finally has a ‘first wife.’]”

“[I have no need for other women.]”

The dew-soaked night chilled my cheeks. Beyond my barely closed eyelids, I could make out the flickering moonlight and shadows moving within it. My mind, caught somewhere between deep sleep and faint awareness, absorbed the vague words exchanged nearby.

A fur cloak slipped down over my face and cheeks, carefully adjusted to avoid smothering me. The warmth quickly spread beneath the soft covering.

“[Hmm, they’ll likely rebel against this.]”

“[Hah, let the sycophants who fawn over me and offer up their daughters try. I owe them no favors.]”

“[That’s true. They’re all so desperate to curry favor with you, Khan. Until now, they’ve been carefully watching one another, hesitating to act first, but with the precedent of a first wife, chaos is inevitable.]”

“[You certainly enjoy stirring up chaos, don’t you? You have such a polished way of speaking, yet you thrive in it.]”

A sharp tsk followed the man’s words.

“[What do you think, Khan? Shouldn’t we use this opportunity to unify the clans? Aren’t you tired of those petty elders hovering around you despite their lack of ability?]”

“[Hmm—]”

“[Weren’t they the ones who turned a blind eye during the last war? Without your forces, Khan, they wouldn’t have even breached the Great Wall.]”

“[Not a bad idea. If left alone, they’re bound to become a nuisance… I’ll consider it. Now leave me.]”

“[Yes, Khan. Rest well.]”

The surrounding area quickly grew silent. Only then did I relax my furrowed brow. The restless thoughts that had kept me on the verge of consciousness began to sink into a deep calm under the blanket of quiet.

“[Unification, huh—]”

The man’s low voice murmured nearby.

“[Not a bad thought. Should I offer a bride price (*hunjageum: in Mongolian culture, the monetary gift a groom’s side gives to the bride’s family for their future life)? At the very least, I ought to present something worthy of my goddess, shouldn’t I?]”

“…Mmm.”

As a hand brushed gently against my cheek, I instinctively rubbed my face against the coarse texture in front of me. A low chuckle echoed above me in response.

“[Now that I think about it, the way you surrendered to me back then without resistance—it had a certain resolve to it. I think I liked that.]”

Perhaps I had rubbed my cheek too hard, as it started to sting slightly. The hand that had been stroking my face began to soothe the irritated spot, and unconsciously, I leaned into the touch, pressing my cheek against it.

“Mmm…”

“[I quite like it when you do something this adorable.]”

A warm breath, along with soft flesh, pressed lightly against my forehead.

“[I wonder what happened to your feathered robe, hmm? I’ll need to know where it is to burn it, won’t I? Maybe I should plan for the worst and make three children just in case.]”

The hands I had clasped tightly to my chest, curled up in a defensive position, were gently pried away by someone else’s. As the large fingers intertwined with mine, the soft sensation of skin glided along my own, spreading my fingers apart.

“[You’re such a mystery, my goddess. Don’t you think? I have so many questions, but it’s frustrating that we don’t speak the same language.]”

I didn’t understand a word of what he was saying. More than that, I wished he would just quiet down. Half-asleep, I muttered incoherently and weakly swung my fist in the direction of the noise.

Thunk.

“[…Was that supposed to be a punch? Should I be impressed that you dared to throw a punch at me at all?]”

The man let out a small laugh, then began to pat my back slowly and steadily. The rhythmic motion lulled me further, and with soft, even breaths, I finally drifted deeply into sleep.

* * *

“[By the way, are you sure it’s fine to bring her along? With the Khan here, nothing major will happen, but it must be a bit of a hassle for you.]”

“[Hmm, even if I wanted to send her back, the journey alone would span over a thousand li. Avoiding pursuit along the way, with her stamina, it’d take at least a month.]”

They spoke among themselves, their faces furrowed as though debating something. Perhaps there was a nearby village to raid.

A man with long, braided black hair wearing a hat made of animal fur stood nearby. His frame was leaner and thinner compared to the man who was holding me.

I glanced at them briefly before lowering my gaze again. The tight-fitting clothes restricting my legs made me shift to sit sideways. Without much to hold onto, I slumped helplessly against the man carrying me, my feet dangling off the ground.

Over my head and shoulders, a larger fur cloak had been carefully draped. Given the number of people in the group, they had hunted plenty of wild animals, leaving behind an abundance of pelts. Some of those pelts had been sewn together with my existing cloak, transforming it into a hooded mantle large enough to envelop me completely.

Within the cloak, I held tightly to the bag slung over my shoulder, ensuring it wouldn’t jostle. The ragged cloth pouch I had abandoned during my escape had long been discarded—or so I thought. In its place was a sturdy leather bag with reinforced straps.

Inside, I found my cigarette pack, a Zippo lighter, and even my contraceptive patches—all of it still intact. Speaking of which, it was probably about time to replace the patch.

“[Besides, it’d be troublesome if she tried to run away again.]”

“[I must admit, I was surprised. I thought you’d cut off her legs to keep her by your side, but not only did you bring her back unharmed, you’re even taking care of her.]”

“[They say women can soften even the hardest of men, though it seems there’s no hidden meaning behind that saying.]”

“[Well, thinking about beauties like Daji, Mo Xi, Bao Si, or Lady Li, I can’t say it’s entirely incomprehensible.]”

Some of the men were covered with leftover pelts, while others had bare torsos, their upper bodies exposed. Even as harsh winter winds swept by with enough force to cut skin, they rode their horses boldly, unbothered by the cold.

In contrast, I had two thick layers of fur covering me. Despite not being weak by any means, I must have appeared fragile in their midst. To be fair, I had fallen seriously ill not long before.

When I called up the AI in my watch—Noah—for a checkup, the results confirmed what I already knew: my condition had been far from ideal. My fever had soared above 40°C (104°F) and showed no sign of subsiding, triggering multiple danger alerts. Thankfully, I had muted Noah’s voice; otherwise, the constant alerts might’ve caused a commotion.

Noah identified the primary causes as stress, exhaustion, and malnutrition. Though I had since recovered from malnutrition thanks to the food they provided, the memory of my illness lingered.

I couldn’t ignore the faint tickling sensation in my chest. A fever over 40°C was essentially a death sentence among these people—or, at best, an incurable burden. And yet, I had survived.

The credit for saving my life went, almost unbelievably, to this man. The leader of these invaders had personally ensured that I wasn’t abandoned, nursing me back to health and even obtaining medicine for me.