They kept walking.
West? South? It didn't matter anymore.
There were no markers now. No more uniforms.
Just forest. And footsteps.
And a bond too quiet for the world to understand.
---
They shared the last can of food without speaking.
They passed rivers. Hid from distant helicopters.
But they didn't run.
Because they weren't escaping anymore.
They were leaving.
---
Tae-Jun's leg gave out near the ridge.
Yul caught him before he hit the ground.
Didn't scold. Didn't look worried.
Just lifted him, arm over shoulder, and kept moving.
---
At the top of the hill, they saw it:
A valley.
Green. Quiet.
Not a base. Not a checkpoint.
Just... peace.
---
Tae-Jun sat on a flat rock.
He opened the notebook — now weathered, damp, ink-smudged but whole.
There were only a few pages left.
And one bullet still in his rifle.
He looked at Yul.
> "This is it."
---
Yul nodded.
Sat beside him.
Tae-Jun wrote his final words.
---
> Entry Twenty.
I came here with thirty bullets and a pen.
I thought one would kill me.
I thought the other would bury my name._
But I didn't use the bullets._
Not on him.
Not on me._
I used the pen._
And somehow… that was enough._
---
Tae-Jun tore the last page out.
Folded it.
Handed it to Yul.
The boy held it like it was glass.
Tae-Jun smiled.
> "You keep this one."
---
Then he stood.
And for the first time in weeks… they walked forward. Together.
No orders.
No names.
No war.
Just two boys.
One notebook.
And a story no bullet could erase.