I'll Shoot Gently – Even the Gun Won't Hurt
I'll really shoot gently. Even shooting the gun gently won't hurt.
My eyes snapped open to the agony of a parched mouth. A strange ceiling swam into view through blurry vision. I tried to sit up to figure out what the hell was going on.
"Ugh...!"
Only then did I realize my whole body was screaming in pain. A groan escaped me as if the souls of those barbarian bastards I'd killed today were trampling me underfoot.
"Ah, my son!"
"Master! You're awake?"
Mak-chun and Eori's voices rang out from both sides. They leaned in close, faces etched with worry.
"W-Water...!"
"Oh! Water? Agi!"
"Yes! Mother!"
Agi? Mother? Did they always call each other that? My foggy mind puzzled over it as I let Mak-chun help me sit up. Soon Eori returned with a bowl, letting me quench my thirst.
"Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp...!"
"Son, take it slow or you'll choke."
"Master, drink slowly."
I tried to sip slowly, but I couldn't. The sweet, cool, tangy water made my tongue dance with every mouthful.
"Pwah! More, please."
"Y-Yes! Master!"
Eori snatched the empty bowl and dashed off somewhere. Whatever was in that water surged vitality through me. My mind sharpened, and I realized we were in the village communal warehouse.
"Mom, why are we here?"
"Son, you don't remember? The barbarians attacked today."
"I know. Of course. But why aren't we at home?"
"We're still cleaning up. It'll be done soon. Let's head home and rest properly, son."
Mak-chun stroked my head, her eyes misty with tears. I noticed the bandage wrapped around her hand.
"Mom, your hand—it's hurt?"
"Huh? This? I shot too many arrows. Son, do you know how many barbarians your mom sent to the afterlife?"
"...Three?"
"Hehehe. Five, actually."
I never imagined she'd say she'd killed five people with such a tender smile. Joseon era folks are something else, I thought, getting back to the point.
"Mom, how many from the village died?"
"Son."
"How many?"
"None. Not yet."
"Not yet" meant someone was critically injured. Ignoring the dizziness, I pressed on.
"How many badly hurt?"
"It's okay. Not your fault. No one's blaming you."
"How many?"
"...Five."
My vision blurred again. I'd braced for deaths, but the reality hit hard.
"Master!"
Just then, Eori bustled in, holding two bowls—one in each hand. She'd brought extra, expecting I'd want more.
"Here you are, master."
"Ah, thanks, Eori."
I grabbed the bowl from her and chugged. On the third bowl, I finally noticed something off about the taste.
"Cough, hack—Mom, what is this? Why's it taste so weird?"
"What's wrong? Can't stomach it?"
"No, not that. What's in the water?"
"It's the medicinal brew from the county doctor. It's fine—drink up. Eori and I already had ours."
"Heehee! It's good! Master! You can drink it!"
With both of them urging me on, I drained the third bowl under their expectant stares.
"Gulp, gulp, gulp."
Ugh. What the hell's this taste? Like sugar and salt dumped in water.
The brew tasted foul, but it worked wonders. Vitality coursed through me, sharpening my blurry sight. The body-wide trampling pain lingered, though.
"Mom, just for a bit... "
"No. The doctor said rest."
"Master, just rest. It's all over."
Rest or not, all done or not—I wanted to see it with my own eyes. The result of our near-death struggle.
"Just a moment. Please."
I stubbornly forced myself up, shoving off the blanket. Ignoring their protests, I shuffled toward the warehouse door. Mak-chun and Eori ended up supporting me on either side as we stepped out.
"Hey! Help out here!"
"Grab the feet! One, two—hup!"
"How'd they even hold with this?"
The night sky was dark, but torches lit the open square enough to see. Officials hustled about, clearing bodies.
"Mom, those barbarians?"
I pointed to mats-covered shapes on one side. Eori answered.
"Yes, master."
"Eori, that on the ground... "
"Pardon? The stones?"
"Yeah. Bring some."
"Yes, understood."
She tilted her head in confusion but fetched them anyway. I hurled the stones at the sprawled barbarians.
"You fucking bastards."
Plunk, thud. My weak tosses barely reached, rolling on the dirt. Still, it vented some rage. I moved on.
"Hey! Si-jin!"
Hyeon-gam approached as Mak-chun and Eori steadied me. Helmeted and armored unlike his usual self, he smiled softly.
"Si-jin, you okay?"
"Yes, Magistrate sir. But sir."
"Speak."
"You could've come a bit sooner. Thought we were goners."
"Hahaha. Sorry. Hurried as fast as I could."
"Still, thanks for coming."
"No need for thanks. It's nothing compared to what you've done for me. Isn't this the magistrate's duty?"
"Then I won't thank you."
"Son!"
"Hahaha!"
Mak-chun scolded me, but Hyeon-gam laughed heartily, ruffling my hair.
"Talking smack already? You'll recover quick."
"Embarrassed, sir."
"Lying without batting an eye. Well, I'll head out. We'll discuss your merits later."
"Yes, take care, sir."
Hyeon-gam left for other duties. The doctor approached next.
"Si-jin, feeling better?"
"Your brew saved me, Doctor."
"Good to hear. It's great for the exhausted."
"I see. Doctor, our critically wounded...?"
"Hm?"
He smiled as he repeated the question. Relief washed over me at the positive sign.
"Critical, but treated fast—they'll pull through. Might have lasting impairments, though."
Better crippled in this world than dead. Much better.
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Save the thanks for yourself. You did good, Si-jin. A man worth respecting."
"Pardon?"
"Haha. Definitely not doctor material. Hahaha."
Did this guy take a bullet to the head? He's the one always pushing me to be a doctor.
I turned to head back. Then I spotted a man sprawled in the square's center, mat-covered, unmoving even as officials passed.
No one else that huge but Eori's dad...!
"Ugh, Dad too...!"
Eori grumbled, embarrassed, following my gaze. Mak-chun explained with a chuckle.
"Heehee. Your dad must've been beat. Treated his wounds and crashed right there."
"Why leave him like that?"
"No one's strong enough to carry him. So he's just mat-covered."
Damn! Scared me! Relief and annoyance mixed as I aimed for the warehouse. But something stopped me.
"Kyahahaha! Hyeong-bang! Know how I crushed these barbarian shits? With these fists—bam! Three flew off! Hahaha!"
The culprit, that slimy catfish bastard, strutted the square with a gourd, howling in laughter. Seeing him ignited fire in my veins.
"Mom, where's my matchlock?"
"No, son."
"It's fine. Won't kill him. Really, I'll shoot gently. Even the gun won't hurt if shot gently."
"Master, it's over now."
"Over? With us alive and kicking? Wait, just a sec."
Energy surged like after sleeping through school. I shook off Mak-chun and Eori, charging the catfish.
"Son?!"
"Master?!"
"You lunatic!"
Ignoring their calls, I leaped—and dropkicked him mid-sentence.
"Catfish bastard!"
"Gack?!"
My feet sank deep into his plump gut. He dropped the gourd and toppled backward.
"You fucking prick!"
I scrambled up from my fall and mounted his belly, raining fists on his face.
"You! Because of you! You! Fucker! How much! We! Spun! Like tops! And you! Strut around! With that! Mug?!"
Punch per word. He had no chance to argue, just took the beating. He reached out to stop me. I grabbed his right hand and twisted it counterclockwise.
"What! You fuck!"
Crack!
"Aaaagh! S-Stop...!"
"Stop?! I decide that! Got it?! You! Fucker! Huh?! Got it?!"
Oddly, no one intervened. I kept pounding until exhaustion dropped me.