A Promise Forged in Ashes
“The army! The army’s here!”
In that desperate moment, the imperial troops finally stepped in to defend the village, swiftly extinguishing the flames and driving back the pirates.
The village lay in ruins—what remained were the charred foundations of homes and bodies strewn across every street corner. And then—
She… she survived.
There stood the girl, alone atop the spot where her parents had fallen.
Her cheeks were streaked black with soot clinging to dried tears, but she didn’t even think to wipe it away. She just stared blankly at the smoldering embers.
As if she’d missed even the moment to wail in grief. Watching her, Bijong couldn’t help but recall those words from that day.
‘Don’t worry. One day, I’ll become a great general and protect everyone—no, you.’
—You.
Bijong clenched his fists, a bitter taste filling his mouth.
Crunch.
He’d been too young, too pathetic, too weak to do anything but stand by helplessly.
Too clumsy with words to do more than stay by her side. She finally broke down, her relief giving way to raw emotion.
Standing beside her as she sobbed heartbreakingly, the sheer powerlessness of having nothing to offer gnawed at him.
When her tear-filled eyes turned to him, he knew the kind, gentle girl she was would never lash out—but still, he imagined it.
‘You said you’d protect me.’
Her unleashing that fury on him. He tortured himself with the cruel fantasy, whipping his own conscience.
As if she were truly blaming him, as if that malice were directed at him.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
All he could muster in response was that one phrase, repeated endlessly. He hadn’t done anything wrong, surely—but why did it feel this way? He knew the answer but didn’t want to face it squarely.
Blinking back tears that threatened to well up, Bijong rushed to his parents, who were busy with the aftermath.
He dropped to his knees before them and said,
“Please… take her in.”
It was far too grave a request for a mere child.
To adopt a child unrelated by blood—especially in an ordinary commoner’s household. It was no light decision on its own, but in this case, it weighed even heavier.
“As a servant, you mean?”
“No, sir.”
“…Then, are you saying you’ve taken a liking to her? Want to make her your bride someday?”
“…No, Father.”
He didn’t want to turn her misfortune into his opportunity.
His father, frowning at the repeated denials, finally demanded to know just what he intended and why.
“…I broke my promise. You always said a man must keep his word, no matter what.”
His father pondered deeply, then nodded.
Honestly, he probably didn’t fully understand. But something resonated, and his parents indulged their stubborn son.
That was how it had all begun. And that event had shaped everything since, influencing choices like—
For instance, he’d once thought martial artists were cooler. Free, powerful, able to bend the world to their will. But with his father being a soldier, Bijong figured he’d want him to follow the same path.
He’d assumed he’d waver between the martial world and the military.
But that day changed everything. His course was set.
—I’ll eliminate whatever makes you sad.
Without hesitation, Bijong chose the soldier’s path.
He couldn’t erase the grief she felt now, but he’d make damn sure no future sorrow touched her. He wouldn’t break his promise again.
As he learned to wield a blade, he relived that night every day. Calluses now thick on his hands, no hesitation in swinging at foes.
It was a grueling road. Since enlisting, he’d faced death countless times, barely surviving near-fatal crises.
“…Bijong?”
Yet the knot in his heart for her remained.
“…Bijong?”
Still, his hard work paid off. For a commoner recruit, he’d risen remarkably fast—enough to boast of promotion anywhere.
Vice Commander—a mid-level field officer. Noble heirs often started here, but for a commoner like him, it was monumental.
Of course, he had no intention of strutting around. To achieve his goal, he’d climb higher, no matter what.
“Bijong!”
“Whoa, you scared me!”
“Jeez, what on earth were you daydreaming about to zone out like that?”
Her shout snapped him back from the past.
Reading the mood belatedly, he saw her pouting fiercely. He’d clearly messed up big time.
—It’s been ages since we’ve had a date alone. Of course she’d be mad if I space out like this.
“Ugh, seriously. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Good. Oh, that looks fun! Let’s check it out!”
Suddenly, Bijong found himself pulled along by her hand. He shook off his grim expression, replacing it with a soft smile as he followed her.
Lately, with pirates raiding more often and bandits blocking roads to the castle town, work had piled up. Time alone like this was rare.
Even these brief moments together felt precious beyond words.
“…”
The same went for Yurin. She deliberately slowed her steps, wishing the time would stretch just a little longer.
“Man, smells good. Hungry?”
“Gukbap again? It’s been a while since we went out—could splurge on something nicer.”
“Nothing beats gukbap for taste and heartiness. Come on, young master. Allow me to personally guide you to the best spot.”
Hee hee hee!
It felt like their roles had flipped, but she strode ahead briskly. Bijong trailed her back.
“I always think it, but no place in town beats this joint.”
“Agreed.”
They stopped at a street gukbap stall to sate their hunger, then resumed their walk home.
Spotting a fabric shop, Yurin paused, fingering some silks.
“This color would suit you perfectly.”
Bijong looked puzzled.
“You think? I’m clueless about this stuff.”
“Your winter clothes are all worn out. Let’s get you a new set! I’ve got money—took on some odd jobs last time.”
“Nah, I’m good. Use it to get yourself another—”
“No way, I’ve got plenty. Come on!”
A lie. In these times, a few odd jobs wouldn’t amount to much. Exchanging a wry glance with her,
Hee hee hee. She flashed her signature quirky grin even wider.
Impossible to resist her pace. Bijong let her lead him inside.
It’d be pricey. From lowly foot soldier to vice commander—a high rank on paper, but he still felt it was hollow.
Compared to noble vice commanders, his authority was limited, and his pay barely outstripped rangers or low officers.
Regardless, they were fresh customers. A clerk approached with utmost courtesy.
“Welcome! Here for tailoring? Both of you?”
“No! He wears the same rags every day, so I’m treating him.”
“Oh my. What’s your husband’s size?”
The clerk’s natural assumption hit Yurin—she fidgeted, blush obvious.
“H-He’s not my husband yet.”
“Engaged is as good as, right?”
“It’s different! Ugh, typical soldier! The process—the middle steps—they’re crucial! Gotta keep ‘em distinct!”
“Beats me.”
“You’ve gotta properly till the field before a stable harvest! It’s in the military classics… uh, is it? Never studied, so dunno.”
“Got it. Guess I’m oblivious. I’ll pay more attention.”
“Yup yup!”
That’s all it takes!
The two bantered effortlessly. The clerk watched with an amused smile.
But business called. Fun as it was, she had a job.
“So, what’s your fiancé’s size? If unsure or changed, we’ll need to measure fresh.”
“I know roughly, but his build’s shifted lately. Better measure again.”
Oh no.
Only then did it hit him.
Recent fierce battles had left scars aplenty. Yurin already worried excessively about him—getting caught would be bad.
He wanted to dodge or have the clerk measure. Latter seemed easier.
“Then, please take my measurements anew.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to request it politely.
The clerk started leading him to the back, but suddenly rolled her eyes, sweating bullets, and shoved him forward before fleeing.
“…Why ask her instead of me?”
Ice cold. A dagger to the heart.
The unexpected chill and killing intent jolted him alert. Bijong squared up before Yurin hastily.
“N-No, Yurin, it’s not—”
“Go!”
Her rebuke was as stern as any man’s.
“Men and women should keep distance! You wanna bare yourself to another woman? …Bijong, have you… grown tired of me?”
“N-No, that’s—”
She chained it flawlessly into her ultimate combo.
“You’re awful. Sniff.”
“Ahem.”
No escape.
Sniff.
A sidelong glance. Peeking through teary eyes, then fake-sniffling again when their gazes met.
Suddenly, all eyes in the shop turned their way.
Yeah, once swept up in her vibe like this, refusing was tough.
“…Yurin, could you take my measurements?”
“Yup yup!”
She stopped glaring, smiled, and trailed close behind.
Watching, Bijong gave an awkward chuckle, loosening his collar and shedding his top.
“U-um.”
Why volunteer if she’d blush to her ears and tremble? Clutching the tape clumsily, she fumbled it against him.
“…Ah.”
But the reaction was brief. Glancing at his lower back, her eyes widened, words failing her.
Exactly why he’d resisted showing it. Bitterness crept onto his face.
Once, over-swinging his sword had torn his palm. He’d thought bandages and rest would fix it, but Yurin had clung to his hand, sobbing all day.
This time, a bandit’s blade grazed his back during a mountain skirmish from a moment’s lapse. Hope she doesn’t freak.
Pondering how to soothe her this time—
“…Thank you. Always.”
“Huh?”
Not the reaction he expected.
She brushed away tears discreetly, forcing a smile through glistening eyes.
“Thank you!”
Not forgetting her gratitude. Yurin sidled close, wrapping him gently in her arms.
“…”
Yeah, that’s right. He didn’t ask for much.
Just her happy smile directed at him. Occasional words of love, thanks, honest feelings shared.
“No, I’m the thankful one.”
That alone made risking his life worthwhile.