Blood Moon Rising Over The Plains - Chapter 4: Overpowered (2)

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? I have no intention of letting you go, Yeojin. If you try to run away again—”

I shook my head wildly. That wasn’t what I was asking.

“Marriage means living together, right? But if you get bored, you just say goodbye, and I go somewhere else.”

“…What?”

Temujin’s expression hardened instantly.

I shrank back. Did I say something wrong? But no matter how I replayed my words, they made perfect sense to me.

Marriage had been abolished years ago because no one saw a need for it anymore. Officially, it had been repealed, but in reality, it had lost its purpose long before that.

“…Isn’t that right?”

Cautiously, I asked again. But the moment I did, Temujin’s face darkened even further.

The atmosphere suddenly felt dangerous.

Crunch.

A sharp grinding noise came from between his teeth.

I hunched my shoulders, lowering my head. The air around him felt so tense, I couldn’t even bring myself to look up.

“…….”

“…….”

The silence stretched long, growing colder by the second. Or maybe that was real—after all, Temujin still had his pants on, while I had nothing covering me. The chill against my bare skin made me shiver.

Thud.

A moment later, something warm and heavy draped over my shoulders.

It was the fur cloak he had discarded earlier.

He adjusted it carefully, pressing the front down over my chest and tucking my arms and legs in like he was wrapping me up.

I peeked at him from beneath the thick fabric. His expression remained fierce as he bundled me up, but his hands were warm and steady, shielding me from the cold.

A small chuckle slipped out before I could stop it.

“…Hah.”

Temujin let out a quiet, exasperated breath.

Oh. Right. This probably wasn’t the time to be laughing.

I glanced up at him hesitantly, only to see him pressing a hand against his forehead.

“Damn it… what the hell am I doing?” he muttered in Mongolian, his words unintelligible to me.

But at least… he seemed less angry than before.

Slowly, I freed one arm from the fur and reached out, poking his chest.

He flinched.

“Um….”

“Name.”

Again with the name. He was obsessed with this.

I sighed and gave him what he wanted.

“Temujin.”

“Good. If I tell you my name, you should use it.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Do people in Cheon-gye not marry?”

Cheon-gye. I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but I had a feeling it referred to the place I came from.

I nodded.

“A long time ago, people did. But not anymore. We don’t get married. There’s no reason to.”

“Why not? Why wouldn’t you need to?”

“You just find someone you like. If you don’t like them anymore, you separate. A lot of people live alone, too.”

“If you don’t marry, then what about children? How do people have them?”

“They don’t. If they don’t want them, they don’t have them.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice tight with frustration.

“Why have children? It hurts. My stomach would get big. It would be hard to move.”

“But women—”

I shot him a sharp glare.

He shut his mouth.

“Women are the only ones who suffer,” I said firmly.

“Men take care of their families. They do the hard work.”

“I don’t need that. I can live alone just fine.”

In the forest, if I wanted, I could survive on my own. Noah was there, which meant I had security. As long as I avoided rare or unknown foods, I could gather enough to sustain myself.

“Live alone?  How? Where would you stay? How would you find food? You can’t even hunt!”

Temujin’s voice grew louder, his frustration evident. I tilted my head, puzzled by his sudden anger.

“Why are you mad?”

“I’m not… I just….”

He let out a rough sigh, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. He looked genuinely confused, but while he tried to sort out his thoughts, I focused on answering his earlier questions.

“I can build a place to live. I can find a cave. There’s plenty of food in the forest. I used to survive on just medicine. I don’t eat much, so I’ll be fine.”

“…Medicine?”

Temujin, who had been slouched over in frustration, suddenly sat up straighter.

I held up my fingers, shaping them into a small pill-sized circle.

“Mm-hmm. Instead of food, I used to take medicine like this. One pill, and I was full.”

“Ha, so that’s why you never ate properly!”

I blinked at the sharp words.

“Um, Temujin… I still don’t know all of your language yet.”

Shrugging, I reached for another piece of fruit and bit into it, tucking my hands back into the warmth of the fur.

“…We are getting married.”

I rolled my eyes upward, considering his words. His voice was firm, but his expression seemed… almost desperate?

Something about that look made me finally voice a question I had been holding in.

“Am I…?”

Ah. I didn’t have the right word for this. After a moment of thought, I pieced together what I could.

“Am I… not going to roll away?”

Temujin’s lips parted, then shut tightly.

Finally, after a long pause, he spoke.

“…Never.”

I recognized the word as a strong affirmation.

Well, if that was the case… maybe marriage wasn’t such a bad idea. I could learn more about this place while we lived together, and even if we parted ways eventually, I’d have the skills to settle somewhere else.

Nodding, I made up my mind.

Temujin let out a heavy sigh as if collecting himself, then pulled me into a tight embrace, pressing his lips against my neck.

“Then, dangsin?”

His body stiffened.

Huh? That’s what a wife calls her husband, isn’t it?

Language patches sometimes had errors, and occasionally, I’d been taught awkward or incorrect words. I thought that issue had been fixed, but maybe not.

“Is that wrong?”

“…No. It’s right. That’s correct.”

“Okay. Dangsin, why don’t you ask? I flew.”

“A fairy flying? But not in front of others,” Temujin said, lifting his head to look at me, his voice serious.

That was fine with me. It wasn’t like I planned on showing it off.

I nodded.

I didn’t know exactly what fairy meant, but it seemed similar to sorcerer, so I let it go.

“…No. If you’re ever in danger, use it to escape. And don’t let anyone else know you understand them. Keep pretending like you can’t.”

Well, that made sense. No matter what fairy meant, it probably wasn’t good for too many people to know about it.

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

At least now, with Temujin knowing, it would be easier to call Noah when I needed help. Before, I had to be sneaky about it, but now…

“Noah, screen open.”

Paat—

A translucent screen flickered to life in the air, glowing faintly as it hovered around me.

Temujin flinched at the sudden display but quickly leaned in, fascinated by the strange text covering the screen.

<Current Time: P.M. 10:13
Weather: Clear
Temperature: -30°C
Location: 39°01′50.5″N 113°58′55.9″E
Current Date: Unknown>

The screen flickered, displaying a series of updates:

<Language Patch: Middle Mongolian. Manual processing in progress. (Current Progress: 11%)>
<One linked item detected.>
<Map has been updated.>
<Four unchecked warning alerts exist.>
<No network connection.>
<Body scan result: No abnormalities detected.>

After scanning through the notifications, I opened the map first. A large screen expanded, filling the space with a rough depiction of the surrounding area.

“This is—”

There were no country names listed, but rivers, grasslands, and villages were marked. For now, it only showed the immediate vicinity, but if I traveled more, I could probably expand the map’s data.

Just as I was about to close it, Temujin suddenly moved, pointing at a flashing red marker on the screen.

“This is our current location?”

I followed his finger and nodded.

“Yes, this is here. And the path we took looks like this.”

I zoomed in on the dotted lines marking our route. Now that I could see it clearly, I realized just how far I had traveled from my original location. Without levitating trains, vehicles, or airships, they had covered this entire distance on horseback. People in ancient times really were impressive.

“…Amazing.”

“Normally, the whole map would be visible from here to here. But in this place, it doesn’t work properly.”

I zoomed in on the blank, unscanned areas with a hint of frustration. If only the network was functioning, I could update the data much faster.

“No, this is enough. It even shows Zhongdu and Dadu. Interesting.”

…Should I have hidden the map?

Would this change the outcome of the war?

No. My presence here alone was already a disruption. Besides, I didn’t even know much about history. How could I possibly predict what would happen?

Shaking off the thought, I glanced at Temujin, who was still studying the map, and switched to another screen.

“Check notifications.”

<Warning alert detected: ‘It hurts.’ Pain detected through master’s voice. 9th-tier emergency alert countdown: 5 seconds.>
<9th-tier alert canceled. Pain duration less than 5 seconds.>
<Warning alert detected: ‘It hurts.’ Pain detected through master’s voice. 9th-tier emergency alert countdown: 5 seconds.>
<9th-tier alert canceled. Pain duration less than 5 seconds.>

Oh. It had classified my earlier discomfort as a 9th-tier alert.

The 9th tier was the lowest level of emergency. If I remembered correctly, the first one must have triggered before the hwangja arrived, and the second one after.

Emergency alerts were categorized from level 1 to 9, with different responses depending on the severity of the threat. The entire system was designed solely to protect human life.