I Am the Tiger-Slaying Boy! You Fucking Bastards!!!
There were holes in the village outer wall, each the size of a baby's head, lined up in a row. At first, I thought they were just ventilation holes. But now I realized they were gun ports. Holes you could stick a musket barrel through and fire from inside the wall. Holy shit. How far ahead had the Crown Prince planned? God-tier Munjong. For real.
To keep the match from going out, I spun the fuse like a firework sparkler while inspecting the defenses. In the most vulnerable spot—the inner side of the north gate wall—I smashed glass bottles and scattered the shards. Any enemies climbing over would step right into them. We didn't have enough lamp oil, so for the rest of the outer walls, I drove wooden stakes into the ground inside. That'd check anyone trying to vault over, too.
On the roofs of the outer houses, I set up scarecrows and gave each one a sack. Up close, it'd be obvious what they were, but from a distance, they might pass for matchlock-armed soldiers. I blocked off the village's minor alleys with junk, and laid multiple layers of barricades along the main paths. I deliberately left gaps in the barricades big enough for one person to squeeze through. To keep them from thinking of any other routes.
"Huuuuh...!"
The preparations that started in the morning dragged on past lunch until late afternoon. Luckily, the barbarians hadn't come charging in during that time.
"Son."
I couldn't sit still and was heading out to double-check the defenses when Mom approached, holding the composite bow King Sejong had given me.
"Son. Don't go."
"Huh?"
"Just stay here. Okay? Stay here with Mom."
"Aw, Mom. Then who's gonna fire the matchlocks?"
I picked up a matchlock and flexed a bit, putting on a show. Of course, Mom saw right through my bravado.
"It's fine, son. No one will say anything if you stay with me."
"Well, yeah, sure. But who'd blame me for it? My conscience would. The whole village trusted my word and put their lives on the line. Hiding with you now? I'd die of shame."
"Son. Is this because you want to marry Eori?"
It wasn't wrong. Earning the adults' respect here would clear the way for our wedding. But I already had my plan for marrying Eori lined up.
"Didn't you hear? When I go to Hanyang later, I'll get the king's permission. It's practically a done deal. Why risk my neck for this? Nah."
"Son."
"Besides, Mom. That's mine. The king gave it to me to use."
"Sigh, this thing?"
Mom sighed like she couldn't break my stubbornness and held up the bow. A quiver of arrows hung at her waist.
"How could a mother sit idle while her son fights? I'll borrow it just for a bit and give it back."
"You have to return it. Promise?"
"Yes. I promise. Definitely."
Mom and I nodded, steeling our resolve to survive. But her worried gaze lingered, so I hefted the matchlock again.
"And Mom, I'll fire just a few shots, then run straight back to you. I can't even shoot that many anyway."
"Really?"
"Of course. When have I ever lied to you?"
"Well, the first time you drew a map on the blanket."
"Mom?!"
"Hee hee hee."
Mom smiled for the first time today. I stared without blinking, committing that warm, motherly smile to memory as long as I could.
"Oh. Son."
Mom, who'd been beaming contentedly, looked behind me. I turned to see Eori standing there.
"Sob... My lord...!"
Already bawling like someone had died.
"Son. Go talk to her."
Mom clearly wanted to keep chatting with me, but she stepped aside anyway. I watched her go, then turned to Eori.
"Eori. What's wrong? Why the tears?"
"Hiiing...! My lord...!"
"What about me? Am I too handsome? That it?"
"Waaah!"
She punched my chest like she couldn't believe I'd joke at a time like this. Then, wiping her damp eyes, she said,
"My lord. You must be careful. Understood? You absolutely, absolutely, absolutely cannot get hurt."
"Got it. I won't get hurt. I won't die. Hell, even if I die, I won't. How could I die before marrying you? I'd regret it too much."
"Hiiing, then... if you survive this... you have to marry me..."
"Whoa! Eori! Shh!"
She was about to spit out a death flag, so I hurriedly pressed my finger to her lips. Eori's round eyes widened as she looked down at me. I moved the finger from her lips to mine.
"Mwah!"
"!"
"Now I definitely won't die. Your kiss will protect me."
"Y-yes, my lord...!"
Eori blushed crimson at our indirect kiss and bowed her head. The height difference meant she couldn't fully hide her face, though. Huh. Guess that cheesy line actually worked. My face burned just saying it. But it calmed her down, so silver lining. I was about to keep talking when—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Drums echoed from the north gate.
"!"
"!"
"!"
The bustling villagers froze and looked toward the north gate. Eori and I did the same.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
That thunderous beat signaled barbarians—or any suspicious intruders—approaching. Here they come, I thought, looking up at Eori.
"Eori. I'll be back."
"M-my lord! H-here! I brought this for you!"
What Eori hurriedly pulled out was a cloth for tying hair buns. Trembling, she wrapped it around my wrist and pleaded,
"You must come back. Or I absolutely won't marry you."
"Got it. I will."
I nodded, then spotted her smooth forehead right in front of me. The moment she finished tying the cloth, I kissed it.
"Mwah!"
"My lord?!"
"Be back soon! See ya!"
I bolted for the north gate, leaving Eori clutching her forehead in shock. The men had already gathered there with spears.
"What's happening?!"
"Barbarians! The barbarians are coming, Tiger-Slaying Boy!"
"Got it! Everyone, stick to the plan!"
I veered toward a nearby house, climbed the ladder to the roof, and flattened myself on the tiled surface, staying hidden as I peered beyond the north gate.
"Fuck. We're screwed...!"
Dozens of rough-looking men approached with murderous glares. Some carried construction tools like shovels or pickaxes; others wielded weapons like swords or bows. At least no matchlocks. Small mercy.
"We! Oirat!"
They halted just beyond matchlock range and bellowed,
"You! Joseon! Die!"
What? Were they just threatening to slaughter us?
"But! Rice! Food! Give! You! Joseon! No! Die!"
Oh, gotcha. They just wanted food. No food, we die. Looked like this might resolve easy. My lips curled at the thought—no one had to die.
But I was wrong.
"Women! Fifteen! Years! Five!"
What?
"Men! Twenty! Years! Ten! Give! You! Joseon! No! Die!"
Were they demanding people? Five 15-year-old girls and ten 20-year-old men?
15. Eori was exactly 15 this year. My brain twisted their words into "hand over Eori," and my hands shook.
"We cannot do that!"
That was Eori's father's voice from the north gate.
"We can give rice! But not people!"
"Women! Fifteen! Years! Three! Men! Twenty! Years! Five! You! Joseon! No! Die!"
"Even reduced, it's the same! We do not trade family!"
They should've gotten the hint by now, but these barbarian fucks didn't. They huddled up, chattering instead of leaving.
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
They argued in their tongue for minutes. The talk dragged on, making me wonder if this was a feint. But no drums from the other gates. No way the guards had all rushed here, right? Nah. Couldn't be. Trusting the village men, I kept watching.
The long debate let me spot the leader. A guy taller than Eori's dad shouted,
"...!"
The axe guy shrugged.
"...!"
Someone yelled back. He drew his sword—looked like a schism. Big guy was the head, axe was right-hand, sword... left-hand? Or number two? Wait, what? Number two suddenly advanced on the north gate. Head and right-hand watched, then waved arms, signaling the men to split into two groups and attack.
"Tiger-Slaying Boy! They're coming!"
"Yeah. Here they come."
"Hurry!"
"On it."
The north gate was supposed to be breached per plan, so the men were falling back. But I stayed prone on the roof, steadying my breath.
"Haaa, huuuuuh...!"
Match in the serpentine, pan lid open, grip the stock, cheek weld, align sights, target the leader's head.
"Haaa, huuu...!"
Inhale, exhale slow. When I'd blown out about two-thirds, I squeezed the trigger slow...
Click. The match plunged into the pan. The musket bucked slightly. Not enough to throw my aim. White smoke billowed as the ball fired.
BOOM!
Recoil slapped my cheek amid the smoke. I held steady, watching the impact. Hit. The leader clutched his throat like swatting a mosquito, blood gushing between fingers as he crumpled. Fatal.
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
His men froze in shock, scanning around. They spotted me on the nearby roof. I raised the still-hot matchlock with both hands and roared,
"I am the Tiger-Slaying Boy! You fucking bastards!!!"
I yelled that and hopped down. Luckily, Eori's dad was waiting.
"No one here doesn't know the Tiger-Slaying Boy! Let's go!"
"Yeah! Move!"
That pulled enough aggro. Leaderless, they'd charge here blindly. Hold them off, buy time till the garrison arrived. That done... Ha! Fuck. That was my first kill—in my modern life or this Joseon one. Supposed to feel shock or something, right? But my lips kept twitching up. Thrilling, honestly. Nailing the shot at the edge of range? Damn, I'm good. But something inside me felt... finished. A vague sense that there was no going back now. My head spun.