Miryeong looked at Bido and said.
“Wait here a moment. I’ll bring her myself.”
And just as she was about to turn away—
Knock, knock.
The sound of the knock had scarcely been audible,
yet the door was already opening quietly inward.
Miryeong’s movement came to a halt.
From beyond the door, a woman slowly walked in.
As though the air in the room had been cleared for her from the very beginning,
there was not the slightest hesitation in her steps.
She was not particularly tall,
and yet, strangely, it felt as if the room had suddenly grown smaller.
Bido stopped breathing without realizing it.
It was a face he had never seen before.
And yet he found it difficult to look away.
The woman’s hair was a deep blue-black, like a dark sea at night.
Along each strand touched by the light, a color impossible to tell as blue or black spread softly,
and the ends of her long, flowing hair swayed gently, like threads that had once been soaked in water and were only just beginning to dry.
Her skin was not so much snow-white as faint and cool, like waves steeped in moonlight,
and what drew the eye most of all was, as expected, her eyes.
They were deep.
To call them clear was not enough.
They were not like shallow water touched by sunlight,
but the very color of the depths of the sea, where no matter how long one looked, the bottom could not be seen.
Whether one should call them blue, or say they held a greenish hue,
they were eyes no one who had seen them once could easily remember as any other color.
She wore neither splendid ornaments nor imposing armor.
Her attire was, if anything, neat and calm.
But that only made it stranger.
Though she put nothing on display,
there was an aura settled quietly about her that made it seem no one could address her carelessly.
She did not reveal authority,
and yet, strangely, the moment she entered, everything in the room seemed to fall into order at once.
Raen, too, seemed to forget his earlier excitement and closed his mouth.
The medical officer straightened his posture without realizing it,
and even Miryeong was silently looking at the woman.
The woman slowly looked around the room.
Her gaze was neither hurried,
nor did it seem meant to press anyone down.
Her eyes lingered for the briefest moment on Tiamar’s sword.
And yet, strangely,
it felt as though she was looking at Bido himself before the sword.
Bido unconsciously tightened his fingertips.
The woman raised her gaze again and looked straight at Bido.
Her eyes were neither cold nor kind.
They were simply a very quiet and deep gaze, like an ancient sea watching the ebb and flow of the tide.
And at last, Miryeong spoke in a low voice.
“…You’ve come already.”
The woman answered softly.
“He woke.”
Even her voice was tranquil.
Neither high nor low, and yet, strangely, it lingered in the ear.
It was soft like the sound of waves breaking,
and at the same time distinct, like the hidden current beneath them.
She slowly took a few more steps toward Bido.
Only then did Bido think that he wanted to ask who this woman was.
But strangely, before he could open his mouth, his body had already realized it first.
She was no ordinary person.
No,
she was a being who should not be called human.
The woman stopped in front of the bed.
And, looking down at Bido very quietly, she said,
“So, you have awakened, Bido.”
Even Miryeong spoke in a voice much quieter than usual.
“Bido. This is—”
As if cutting off those words, the woman said,
“Nereia.”
The name was short,
yet it remained in the room with a strange clarity.
Nereia did not wait for further explanation.
She went straight to Tiamar’s sword lying beside the bed.
And without the slightest hesitation,
she wrapped her long fingers around the hilt of the sword.
Bido swallowed his breath in that instant.
“Th-that sword is—”
A sword whose power seeped in and encroached upon anyone who merely grasped it.
Nereia lifted it naturally, as though it were an object that had long been familiar in her hand.
Miryeong said in a low voice,
“She is the one. The one who carried that sword here.”
Bido looked at Nereia with startled eyes.
For a while, Nereia gazed down at the sword in silence.
The crude, ivory-colored blade, the surface as dry as old bone,
and even the flow sleeping within it, yet still seeming alive.
Her deep eyes seemed to illuminate not the surface of the sword, but even what lay inside it.
At last, Nereia slowly set the sword down.
“You will need an explanation.”
Bido swallowed dryly.
Nereia’s gaze moved back to the sword,
and then to Bido.
“This is not a sword a mortal can wield.”
Her words were neither cold nor threatening.
They were closer to a quiet statement of a truth that had been decided long ago.
And she looked at Bido, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly.
“But… mortals truly are peculiar.”
In her voice were surprise and interest,
and a very faint thread of pity.
“To carry such a flow within you, and yet not have collapsed.”
The moment Bido met that gaze,
he recalled a familiar sensation from somewhere.
It was similar to when Maho looked at him as if piercing through his soul.
But it was clearly different.
If Maho’s gaze tore into the inside and dragged the truth out,
Nereia’s gaze seeped in quietly, like deep water enveloping the body.
Instead of turning his insides over,
it gave the sensation that she already knew even the deepest places.
Nereia said softly,
“Bido.”
Bido unconsciously straightened his back a little.
“Do you know your fate?”
For a moment, Bido could not continue speaking, then answered,
“My… fate?”
Nereia continued without denying or affirming it.
“Whether you want it or not, fate is already flowing toward you.”
Her gaze turned once more to Tiamar’s sword.
“This sword is yours now.”
After a brief silence,
Nereia added with perfect clarity,
“And at the same time, it is also a weight you must protect and carry.”
Unable to say anything, Bido looked back and forth between the sword and Nereia.
He still could not fully understand what those words meant.
But one thing was clear.
More than the fact that he could hold this sword,
Nereia was placing greater importance on the fact that he had held on to it and come this far.
After failing to speak for a while,
Bido asked, very carefully,
“Why… me?”
Nereia did not answer right away.
Instead, she slowly approached Bido.
The closer she came, the more distinct the air around her became.
It was cool like a sea breeze,
and yet, strangely, there was also a warmth from the depths mixed within it.
Nereia stopped beside the bed,
then quietly raised her hand and placed it on Bido’s head.
Bido stopped breathing.
It was cold.
It was unmistakably a cold hand.
And yet, at the same time, it felt warm.
It was cool, like dipping one’s hand into a winter lake,
but from the deep bottom of it spread a strangely tranquil heat.
The moment that touch came to rest on his head,
Bido felt as if even the unease that had remained somewhere in his body briefly subsided.
Nereia spoke in a low and serene voice.
“Do you not know, little one?”
Her eyes were looking straight at Bido before her.
“You were not chosen.”
Bido’s breath trembled ever so slightly.
With her hand still resting there, Nereia slowly continued.
“The reason you have come this far is not because someone pushed you into it.”
“It is all a path you chose yourself and walked.”
Those words did not sound like comfort.
Rather, because they were so quiet, they sounded like a truth that could no longer be denied.
Bido’s lips moved,
but he could not say anything.
As though she knew even that small tremor, Nereia continued.
“Many choices will be placed before you from now on as well.”
Her touch was still light, yet unmistakable.
“Your fate is not to follow a predetermined path.”
“What you choose for yourself each time—that is your fate.”
Bido listened quietly to Nereia’s words.
“So do not fear the outcome.”
Nereia added,
“If you stop because of fear, then it will no longer be the path you chose.”
A moment later,
Nereia’s gaze slowly shifted to the side.
Miryeong, standing by the door,
and Raen, who had been watching this way beside her while holding his breath, both stiffened at once.
After looking at the two of them once,
Nereia turned her gaze back to Bido.
“The things you wish to protect.”
Her voice was still calm,
but this time, it sank a little deeper.
“The things you refuse to let go of until the very end.”
After a short silence,
she said clearly,
“The path you wish to take will, in the end, lead there.”
Only after those words did Nereia slowly withdraw her hand.
But strangely, Bido felt as if that warmth still remained on his head.
No, not merely remained—
it felt as though it was seeping, very faintly, into the inside of his body.
Nereia said nothing more and turned away.
She walked a few steps toward the door,
then placed her hand on the doorknob and paused for a moment.
And without looking back, she said,
“So you must rise.”
At those words, everyone in the room held their breath.
Nereia’s voice was still gentle.
But beneath that gentleness, there was not the slightest hesitation.
“You must walk again, the path you are meant to walk.”
The door opened quietly.
Bido silently watched her from behind.
Nereia left the room just like that,
and even after the door closed, only the aura that seemed to remain there for some time settled quietly over the room.