The oil lamp flickered gently, casting dancing shadows across the walls of the small hut.
Dinner had just ended. The scent of boiled wild roots and thick barley porridge still lingered in the air. Jiho lay on a straw mat near the fire, drinking warm goat's milk from a hand-carved wooden bottle, bundled in a thick brown wrap like a rice dumpling.
He felt full. Safe. Warm.
But something in the air didn't sit right.
His father sat near the doorway, checking his old dagger again—rubbing cloth over the blade absentmindedly. His mother stood nearby, looking down at him with a worried expression that she failed to hide.
"Uh oh… looks like the 'mission talk' is happening again."
And sure enough, it began.
"Honey…" Han Soeun broke the silence, voice gentle but edged with fear. "Is it really that important for you to go?"
Han Daesik stopped polishing the blade but didn't look up.
"I heard what Xiao said," she continued. "The monsters are acting strange. The mountains are colder. Even the birds don't sound the same anymore."
Daesik looked up at her, surprised by her seriousness.
"You can stay here, Daesik," she said more firmly now. "There are plenty of things you can do inside the village. Fixing tools, carving wood. I can even help with weaving. We don't need much—we just need you to come home every night."
Jiho, now curious, perked up from the blanket.
"Oho? Mama pulling the reverse card. Go get him, ma."
He rolled onto all fours and crawled awkwardly toward his father, grabbing his finger with both tiny hands. Then he looked up at him with the widest, glossiest, most puppy-eyed look he could muster.
"Pa… pa…" he whimpered.
And then turned toward his mother.
"Ma…ma…"
He sniffled dramatically and gave a tiny fake hiccup for effect.
"Come on, Oscar-worthy performance here. If this doesn't win Father over, nothing will."
Han Soeun gasped. "Look at him! Our Jiho has never done that before!"
Daesik looked stunned, caught between laughing and crying. His rough fingers gently ruffled Jiho's soft hair. "You're using your mama's tricks now, huh?" he whispered.
Soeun knelt beside them. "Look at him, Daesik… do you really think he wants some wild root or beast pelt for his birthday?"
She turned to him fully now, eyes gleaming with sincerity.
"He doesn't need a gift. He needs his papa. I need you. We both do."
There was a heavy pause. The fire crackled softly.
Jiho, watching his parents, felt a strange ache in his chest.
"I never got this in my last life… not once. A mom who begs her husband to stay. A dad who actually hesitates because his family matters more than duty."
Daesik finally let out a breath and placed the dagger down.
"…Alright."
Soeun blinked.
"I'll talk to Xiao tomorrow. I won't join the expedition. I'll stay in the village this season. Maybe help repair some of the collapsed pens, or guard the perimeter. We'll make it work."
Soeun's smile trembled as she nodded. Jiho grabbed their fingers in each of his hands like he was officiating their emotional peace treaty.
"Victory! Crisis averted. Our household MVP award goes to… baby Jiho!"
Later that night, after Jiho was tucked under his wool blanket and the fire had died down to glowing embers, he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes.
"Even without training, I'm already doing my part, huh…"
"But this confirms it. The monsters acting up isn't just filler talk. It's the start of something. And if I don't want to be a burden later…"
He closed his eyes and took a slow breath through his nose.
"…then I better prepare for war while I'm still in diapers."
End of Chapter 7