Chapter 257 — He Lets Them Go
Yeongu suddenly said,
"You have done nothing so grave. I will let you go. All of you, get out."
The junior general's face froze blankly.
His eyes shook wide, and his lips trembled.
He opened his mouth, but the words did not come at once.
It was a mercy so sudden that he forgot the throbbing pain in every place he had been struck.
"Ah, ah... truly?"
Yeongu lightly waved his hand.
"We are fighting a war. There is no reason to keep people locked up and torment them. Go."
With that one word, the air in the yard changed.
A pale light seemed to spread across the faces of those who, only moments ago, had scarcely dared to breathe.
Life returned to eyes that had been gray with fear, and every glance they exchanged carried unbelievable relief.
Some hurriedly bent at the waist, and some placed both hands on the ground and bowed their heads again and again.
Some had trembling lips and could not finish their words.
"You are sparing us?"
"May we truly leave?"
"We have received grace... grace."
Their words tangled together.
Emotion came first, so their tongues twisted before the words could form.
Even soldiers who had been trained to speak each syllable clearly stammered at that moment.
To men who had knelt believing they would die, the outside world was a life granted anew.
Yeongu had the main gate opened.
The bar was lifted, and the door was pushed open.
Damp air flowed out, and sunlight from outside stretched long across the threshold.
Those who stood before the doorway paused for a moment as they looked at that light.
They narrowed their eyes into the sun, as if only now realizing how precious a single shaft of daylight could be.
A line quickly formed in a disorderly shape.
It did not have the straightness of a military formation.
Instead, it had the desperate order of men trying to live.
A man clutching his shoulder rose first, and another with his waist bent from a blow to the ribs followed behind him.
One who had been struck in the pit of the stomach opened his mouth and drew short, broken breaths as he used the wall to stand.
A man whose knees had given out was lifted by two others with their arms hooked through his.
One who had been struck in the lower back walked toward the threshold with his head lowered and his waist bent halfway forward.
Some limped, and some looked as though the inside of their ribs scraped whenever they drew breath.
A man with a swollen face walked with his eyes half shut, rubbing them with one hand, and another whose teeth had been broken swallowed blood and spit as he pressed his lips closed.
Even so, their steps were full of hope.
Their bodies staggered from the beating, but their toes pointed outside.
The hope of leaving alive pushed them forward faster than their injured limbs could manage.
They kept looking back as they left.
They looked back because they could not believe it, and they looked back to make sure no one would stop them.
Each time, Yeongu pointed outside with his hand.
"Go. If you hesitate, you will be caught again."
At that, the line moved once more.
The men who had filled the yard now poured out through the gate, dragging their injured bodies with them.
One wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve while choking back tears, and another clenched his teeth, lowered his head, and strode forward, only to stagger at the pain.
Those thickened voices and limping footsteps mixed together and filled the prison corridor.
Yeongu watched the opening carefully.
The more people move at once, the more the eye blurs.
It is easy to watch three or four people passing through a place.
When dozens of men in similar condition pour out all at once, a person sees only the mass and cannot count each one.
That confusion was exactly what he aimed for.
He swiftly picked up an outer garment lying on the ground.
It was the jacket of an officer whose build was similar to his.
He draped the old uniform, heavy with dust and sweat, over his shoulders and loosely tied the belt.
He slipped one arm in properly and left the other side hanging roughly, making himself look like a man too badly beaten to straighten his clothes.
He rubbed dust from the ground onto his face, dulling the shine of his flushed skin.
Then he bent his waist slightly and gave his right leg a faint limp.
Now he looked no different from those just released.
The disordered look of a man who had been beaten and barely freed, the posture of someone unable to stand straight because every struck place ached, settled naturally over him.
Yeongu moved to the end of the line and took a place without saying a word.
He lowered his head behind the back of the man in front of him, gave a little of his shoulder to the one behind him, and moved toward the gate with the steps of an injured soldier who could have been anywhere.
Outside, the junior officer's voice was still loud and sharp.
Even after seeing the men pour out as if begging for their lives, he could not count them.
He saw only that the door had opened and that a group of men was staggering out from within.
His face, puffed up with pride after bringing troops from the main camp, was fixed only on the commotion outside.
He had no room to consider who came out first or who had slipped in at the end.
The moment Yeongu crossed the threshold, he drew in a long breath.
The sunlight of freedom poured over his face.
He did not hurry.
A rushed step draws the eye.
He stayed one beat behind, limped once, pretended for a moment to steady himself on the shoulder of the man before him, and slowly followed the line.
When the group scattered into the small yard outside the prison, Yeongu scattered with them.
One man collapsed against the left wall, another leaned against a wall and coughed.
One ran into an alley as if fleeing, while another stood blankly, overwhelmed merely by having survived.
In that disorderly scattering, Yeongu half turned his body and slipped toward a narrow alley.
At that very moment, hoofbeats burst out behind him.
A group of cavalry swept toward the prison.
Iron horseshoes struck the stone road, scattering sharp sounds.
Yeongu did not raise his head.
If he raised his head, his face would be seen.
He checked the direction only with his eyes and pressed himself into the shadow at the entrance of the alley.
He held his body on the border between sunlight and shade, and when the cavalry's eyes all turned toward the prison gate, he quickly slid deeper into the alley.
The alley twisted and bent, and sunlight fell in broken pieces through gaps in the roofs.
Yeongu clutched the hem of the uniform and ran through it.
His limping step had become smooth before he knew it.
He straightened his waist, pressed himself to the wall whenever he turned a corner, slowed when a human shadow appeared, and when he saw an opening, moved again in short bursts.
Behind him came the sound of cavalry pouring into the prison yard, and someone's shouting rode the wind.
It was already too late.
By the time Yeongu had thought of the trick, the chance to escape had already arrived.
The instant a mass of injured bodies spilled outside, if he hid himself within that line, no one would recognize him at once.
Before the mind can count, the human eye is deceived.
Inside the prison, the junior general belatedly began searching for Yeongu with fire in his eyes.
He opened each cell, searched behind walls and pillars, and even harassed the few prisoners who had remained.
He shouted, asking where Yeongu was hiding, and screamed at those who had only been sitting quietly.
But Yeongu was nowhere.
Only dust on the ground, groaning men, a door that had been opened and then closed again, and confusion scattered in all directions remained.
In the end, the junior general's anger turned on the junior officer.
He dragged the junior officer forward for no good reason.
Since his sight was hot with rage, he attached any reason he could find.
He even brought up the fact that the junior officer had spoken informally earlier.
"How dare you speak casually before your superior?"
The junior officer found it absurd and unfair, but he was not given a chance to explain.
The junior general's hand rose first, and the junior officer's head snapped to the side.
The swagger he had shown after bringing troops from the main camp was gone.
He clutched his head with both hands and bowed his waist again and again.
By then, Yeongu had already hidden deep inside the alley.
He took off the dust-covered outer garment and threw it over a wall, then fully untied the cord hidden at his wrists.
He caught his breath and leaned his back against the wall for a moment.
From the prison, shouting and footsteps still rang out, but those sounds had already passed through one wall and two or three turns before reaching him.
Yeongu narrowed his eyes and looked up at the sky.
He had escaped alive.
He had not yet been caught.
Now he had to begin again.