Blood Moon Rising Over The Plains - Chapter 3: Language (4)

The aqua shoes, while not completely inconspicuous here, were at least better than clunky, ugly shoes.

“No. 7. Change the sole to a ridge sole (*suitable for rocky and mountainous terrain). Add insulation for winter use. Color: white.”

The updated design rendered on the screen, matching my specifications. Even though the shoes would be hidden under my clothes, I kept the color the same—just in case someone noticed.

“Proceed with the modifications.”

<Estimated time: 3 minutes and 20 seconds.>

I draped some clothes over the slowly transforming gravity shoes to conceal them. Next on the list: replacing the birth control patch.

The flu I’d caught recently made the replacement period feel shorter than usual. Pressing the indented spot behind my ear, I felt a faint sting as the old patch detached.

The birth control patch, about the size of a fingertip, came off attached to my finger. While there were various designs, I’d stuck to the snowflake shape for as long as I could remember.

The replacement period was once a month, and I’d nearly cut it too close this time due to being sick. The patch, which had glowed blue, was now mostly gray, with only faint traces of blue left.

That was close. Luckily, I managed to replace it in time. Any longer, and the patch would’ve lost its effectiveness.

I hastily dug a shallow hole in the dirt beneath the carpet and buried the used patch. Someone might find it, but they wouldn’t recognize what it was. That should be good enough.

After brushing off the dirt from my hands, I retrieved a new patch from my bag, encased in a gold case.

The new birth control patch shimmered faintly blue and was shaped like a snowflake, crafted from a thin, flexible material about as thick as fine wire.

Peeling off the adhesive backing, I pressed it firmly against the spot behind my ear. A soft prick followed as several tiny needles pierced my skin, accompanied by a sharp, fleeting pain. The needles were so fine they wouldn’t leave scars, but the sensation of them going in was never pleasant.

Once adhered, the patch melded seamlessly with my skin, nearly imperceptible to the touch. To an untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a tattoo.

I did feel uneasy about the man who liked to nibble at my ears recently, but since this was the only spot where the patch worked, I had no choice. Still, he hadn’t said anything even after seeing me fly with gravity shoes—maybe he’d let this slide too. Or maybe he’d noticed and decided not to bring it up because we couldn’t communicate properly.

I shook my head to dismiss the thought. This wasn’t the time to dwell on such things.

Outside, the sound of footsteps crunching on dirt drew closer. I quickly wrapped up what I was doing and pretended to brush my hair with a comb.

I still had so many things to prepare, but the man showed no signs of leaving. At least the urgent tasks were done, though I hadn’t managed to address anything related to safety.

Even if I didn’t need it immediately, knowing a war was looming made me uneasy.

The man strode confidently into the tent and plopped down onto the thick bedding, stripping off his clothes without hesitation.

He discarded his hood, shoes, shirt, pants, and even underwear in the blink of an eye. I turned my back, my cheeks flushing at the sight of his bare body. No matter how many times I’d seen him naked, I still wasn’t used to it.

“[Why are you embarrassed? You’ve seen it so many times already.]”

His voice was teasing, full of laughter. He was clearly enjoying himself, and it annoyed me. Still, I kept my back to him, combing my hair with the same motion as before.

“Ugh.”

My brow furrowed as the comb caught on tangled strands. After neglecting it for so long, my hair wasn’t going to become smooth just from one bath in hot spring water.

“[Give it to me.]”

Before I could protest, he snatched the comb from my hand.

I felt him gently gather my hair, and the comb glided through the long strands. Over the months, my hair had grown so long it brushed the ground even while I was seated.

I’d tried cutting it several times, but the brothel owner had always stopped me. After that, I’d never had the chance again. Long hair was inconvenient to manage, and I preferred it short.

When was the last time I’d let it grow this long? Probably never. Now, I was setting a new personal record, thanks to being here without access to scissors. It would only grow longer from here since they wouldn’t trust me with anything sharp.

Sarak—

The man’s rough hands combed through my hair more gently than I had expected. The sensation of my hair being brushed wasn’t unfamiliar; I felt it every day when the android robot washed it for me. But somehow, this felt different—ticklish, almost.

That tickling sensation in my chest had been happening more often lately. At first, I worried it was a sign of illness, but Noah’s tests came back clean.

I stole a glance at the man’s hand as it worked.

The handle of the crudely carved wooden comb was just barely smooth enough to have lost its splinters, the blade marks from the knife that shaped it still plainly visible. There wasn’t a single decorative touch on this humble comb, which he’d handed me earlier today before leaving the tent.

The comb’s unevenly spaced teeth left traces of the man’s handiwork, his rough edges. My once-tangled hair had now regained its soft fullness, shimmering smoothly under the comb’s guidance.

With a quiet thud, the comb was placed on the ground. My gaze, which had been following it instinctively, was quickly captured by the man’s hand as it pulled me into his embrace.

Smooch.

His lips brushed against the line of my neck, and I squirmed in his arms, startled by the ticklish sensation.

“[Should I get you some rosewater on the way? I hear women love that stuff.]”

With a teasing tone, he tugged at my single thin layer of clothing, pulling it off. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he didn’t bother giving me anything else to sleep in—just like every other night. I assumed it was some practical tradition for staying warm, since nothing was as effective as shared body heat.

The man wrapped himself in thick furs and laid back onto the bedding. His forearm under my neck was hard as stone, and the arms that encircled me were solid like a fortress. Nestled in his embrace, I blinked slowly, exhaling a soft breath.

The warmth beneath the fur enveloped us, and my eyelids began to grow heavy. His steady heartbeat, thumping rhythmically against my chest, filled the silence like a lullaby.

The memory of what I had seen earlier tried to creep back into my thoughts, swirling faintly beyond the fog of sleep. No, I shouldn’t let myself think about it. The day I arrived here, that day—and that ominous moon—

“[Tomorrow will be even tougher, so get some rest now. The plains we’re heading to won’t have enough food or water. Stop fluttering your eyelashes—it’s tickling me.]”

His large hand covered my eyes, blocking out even the faintest trace of light. The heat that had burned in my cheeks earlier seemed to cool under the warmth of his touch.

In the pitch-black darkness of my sight, the rhythmic pounding of his heart echoed steadily. That sound, constant and reassuring, carried me slowly into the depths of sleep.

* * *

My clothes are getting more and more extravagant…

And what in the world is this thing on my head? A long, pale purple cloth covered my hair completely. It was nice that the wind couldn’t mess up my hair, but it felt a bit suffocating.

I also had no idea where this jewelry came from. I glanced down at the elaborate necklace with a complicated expression. A large gold plate with engraved patterns sat at the center, linked to smaller round gold plates in a cascading design, each adorned with shimmering gemstones that swayed with every movement.

“[…So, this way… The imperial palace is over here—]”

I stared down at the rabbit meat being offered to me. I had tried eating it a few times before, but I still wasn’t used to the taste. Without my usual meal capsules, I needed to eat properly, but my body refused to cooperate.

After forcing down three bites, I set the meat aside.

The man who had been speaking with “Buka,” as he was called, placed a familiar Arangku onto my plate.

Chewing on the Arangku slowly, I took the time to glance around. Now that I wasn’t focused solely on eating, I could see the people—observe them.

The invaders, who had undoubtedly come to wage war, looked strangely at peace.

Now that I was paying attention, their clothing was strikingly divided. Some wore lavishly embroidered garments in red and blue, their hats lined with fine fur. Others, however, dressed in dull gray tones, their rough, unrefined leathers appearing hastily stitched together.

Some wore full tops, others only vests, but their styles were unmistakably split into two groups.

Was it a matter of personal taste? No—it was too clearly divided for that.

Could it be that those of higher rank wore more extravagant clothing? But then my gaze landed on one particular man—his attire was drab. That theory didn’t seem right.

Even “Buka,” who seemed to hold some level of authority, was dressed plainly.

And yet, ironically, the leader of them all wore the dullest, most unremarkable outfit.

Did this era favor more extravagant clothing for lower-ranking individuals?

…Or did he just have no sense of style?

My gaze dropped to my own elaborate attire.

By now, I probably could have dressed myself, yet that man had insisted on doing it for me. That meant this wasn’t a matter of convenience—there was a reason for it.

No matter how different beauty standards were in the past, they couldn’t have strayed this far from logic.

“[Looking at the imperial lineage, there are three princes and six princesses. Quite a small number, considering the emperor has so many concubines. Rumor has it that the emperor is completely useless below the waist—]”

“[Khaha! Of course! I ripped the bastard’s balls off—he couldn’t possibly be fine!]”

The man burst into boisterous laughter, slapping his own thigh with loud, resounding smacks.

I widened my eyes.

What in that statement had been so funny?

I was completely lost in their conversation. The few words I caught startled me, but I quickly resumed chewing on my Arangku.

Even though 42% of my language patch had been processed, they continued speaking mostly in Mongolian. I still struggled to understand.

Occasionally, when Buka and the man spoke together, I would hear Chinese. From what I had gathered so far, I wouldn’t have much trouble functioning in this environment.

Still, it would be strange if I suddenly began understanding their language fluently. It was best to keep that a secret.

As my understanding of Chinese grew, I realized something—the only ones who spoke it were the man and Buka.

Which also meant my language patch had progressed enough to distinguish between Mongolian and Chinese.

The man grabbed a gourd, pulled its cord tight, and gulped down its contents. The strong scent of alcohol wafted over, telling me just how potent it was.

Six or seven gourds lay empty already. A reddish hue spread across the man’s face—he was finally starting to get drunk.

In the future, alcohol was considered a niche indulgence. The genetically enhanced immune systems of that time processed alcohol too efficiently, making intoxication nearly impossible.

The only way to experience any sort of high was through the latest synthetic drugs, constantly being refined.

“[The enemy seems completely unaware of our movements. Their forces are scattered. They won’t last long. Surrender is only a matter of time. The emperor—]”

“[That bastard humiliated me—he made a mockery of me. You think I’ll let him go unpunished?]”

CRACK!

The gourd shattered in the man’s grip, its once-sturdy shell crumbling into pieces.

Droplets of liquor dripped from his clenched fist, falling onto the table.

“[Revenge for revenge. Humiliation for humiliation.]”

A shiver ran through me.

My skin prickled with unease.

My body trembled involuntarily—just like the first time I had met him.

“[Ikh.]”

The sharp, piercing sensation vanished the moment the man let out an urgent sound.

Even though that oppressive energy had disappeared, I still felt chills running down my spine. I rubbed my arms over my clothes, trying to shake the feeling.

When I tilted my head, I found the man looking at me with an oddly apologetic expression. He wordlessly held out a generous handful of Arangku toward me.

I wasn’t hungry. My stomach was full—but for some reason, I still wanted to eat. It was a strange disconnect between my body and my appetite, something I had never experienced before.

Still, I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat any more, so I shook my head.

“[You eat too little.]”

“[Exactly. You barely touch the meat, you hate Arol (dried Mongolian yogurt), the only thing you actually eat properly is Tarakjuk (Mongolian rice porridge made with milk), and the only thing you seem to enjoy is dried fruit.]”

“[Is there nothing else?]”

“[Unfortunately, it’s winter. All we have are preserved foods.]”

The man groaned in frustration at Buka’s words.

“[At the next village, maybe—]”

“[Khan, we caught someone suspicious lurking nearby. Figured we’d bring them in first.]”

A large man with a bushy beard approached sluggishly, wearing only a vibrantly colored vest over his broad frame.

“[Someone suspicious?]”

At those words, the man’s face twisted in an instant.

“[Well, they weren’t dressed like someone from the imperial court, but… they had the scent. The scent of the emperor’s hounds.]”

The bearded man tapped the tip of his nose with a bored expression.

“[Buka, watch over things while I go check it out.]”

“[Yes, Khan.]”

The man rose to his feet.