The air in the room had settled somewhat.
Nothing had changed much from before.
Only,
no one was looking toward the door anymore.
Bido was still sitting on the bed.
Her upper body upright, not even leaning back.
Over her treated wounds, bandages had been neatly wrapped,
and her face looked clean as well.
Even so, her breathing had not yet steadied.
Every now and then,
it broke off faintly, as if caught on something, then continued.
The bandages smelled of medicinal herbs.
It was a scent that forcibly covered the traces of blood washed away.
Each time Bido drew breath,
she felt something in her side pull ever so slightly.
Not like pain, but like a sign that it was not yet over.
Her fingertips were cold.
It felt as though the chill of the sword was slowly traveling up through the hilt.
If she let go of the sword,
it seemed that coldness would let go of her first.
Bido’s sword lay quietly on the bed,
before her knees.
Her hand was gripping the hilt.
It did not feel as though she was putting strength into it,
but it did not feel as though she was letting go, either.
Miryeong stood in the same place as before.
At the closest distance to Bido.
She was looking straight at Bido,
but her expression was stiff.
It was the face of someone who had not yet decided what to say.
Aslo stood a little distance away.
His gaze was on Bido,
but it slowly dropped once to the sword, then rose again.
Rangnan remained standing beside the bed.
He was observing Bido’s condition closely.
Not the wound, but what lay within.
Everyone knew that Bido was awake,
that she was breathing,
and that she could speak.
And so,
they were waiting.
For a while, Bido said nothing.
She kept her gaze on the sword,
then slowly lifted it.
Her eyes met Miryeong’s,
and she immediately avoided that gaze.
She looked at Aslo,
and lastly turned to Rangnan.
Rangnan neither nodded nor urged her on.
To Bido, that silence felt like permission.
Bido steadied her breath once,
then steadied it again—
and opened her mouth.
After that, her words did not continue for long.
Her sentences broke off often,
and the pauses where she caught her breath were longer.
Someone lowered their head,
and someone could not look away.
Bido did not lay out what she had experienced exactly as it had happened.
She skipped over the middle,
and her words broke off several times.
Even so,
no one there felt the story was lacking.
When the story ended,
no words remained in the room.
Only,
the fact that what Bido had gone through and returned from was far from ordinary remained there in silence.
Miryeong did not say anything right away.
She knew Bido’s story had ended,
but she could not immediately open her mouth.
Instead, her hand moved first.
But it rose to near Bido’s shoulder,
then stopped in the end without touching her.
Even that short distance felt difficult to cross right now.
If only she had been by her side.
If only they had moved together.
Such thoughts tangled inside her, unresolved.
Miryeong clenched her teeth and lowered her head.
Aslo was not looking at Bido.
His gaze rested on the sword,
and from its edge, a very old memory rose to mind.
When he had first faced Zhao, the former master of that sword.
He had no longer been human.
Devoured by the sword,
he had been a being moved only by blood and madness.
No words, no will, nothing had remained.
That day,
Aslo had not faced the sword.
He had had to cut down the madness.
Power wielded without reason,
an obsession with no visible end,
he had had to sever all of it in the end.
Without saying a word, Aslo clenched and unclenched his hand.
He did not like the fact that his memory
seemed to overlap with what Bido had experienced.
Rangnan looked at Bido once more.
Not at the wound,
but at the way she breathed.
The angle at which she held the sword.
The tension that did not loosen even after she finished speaking.
And—
within Bido,
a sensation that was very slightly out of alignment.
Rangnan did not miss it.
It was still too early to call her stable,
but she was clearly different from before.
Rangnan said nothing to anyone.
He merely accepted in silence
that he could no longer leave Bido as simply someone to be “watched.”
Just then,
there came a knock at the door.
A short, cautious knock.
“May I come in?”
It was Erdin.
Opening the door and entering, he looked once over the atmosphere in the room,
then carefully continued.
“I think we need to leave now.”
No one immediately questioned him.
Erdin briefly averted his gaze and added the reason.
“The healer said that if we want her to rest here any longer, there will be an additional fee.”
A moment of silence.
“And…”
Erdin continued.
“The amount was rather absurd.”
Even after finishing, Erdin parted his lips once more, then closed them.
He wore an expression that seemed unwilling even to bring up the word negotiation.
His hand pressed down on the edge of the ledger.
Strength entered his fingertips,
and the paper stopped just before it crumpled.
This city was proving far too easily
that “transaction” was a more accurate word than “treatment.”
With that one sentence, the situation was sufficiently clear.
Bido remained silent throughout their conversation.
It was not that she had nothing to say,
but that she felt there was no place for her words to reach.
Among voices that set prices, a person was lighter than a number.
That lightness made her feel somewhat sick,
and Bido could not bring herself to lift her head.
The bedsheet crumpled between her fingers.
Even that small sound felt far too loud to her now.
This city did not allow one to stay because of wounds.
It had no interest in what came after one’s usefulness ended.
If there was something needed, one had to pay.
If not—
one had to leave.
Rangnan nodded.
“We’ll go to the inn.”
Miryeong silently approached Bido’s side.
This time, she reached out
and made sure she touched her.
Aslo also rose from his place.
The party moved quickly.
Melanie, who had already finished treatment and been resting, joined them as well.
His condition had clearly improved,
but a faint weariness still remained on his face.
The party headed back to the “Three-Forked Road” inn.
The inside of the inn was still noisy,
flowing on as if nothing had happened.
When they opened the door and entered,
one person was already there ahead of them.
It was Mendel.
She had been standing with her back against one wall,
and when she saw the group, she lifted her head.
“What’s this? Why did everyone come together?”
Her tone was no different from usual,
but her gaze immediately went to Bido.
And,
her breath stopped for a moment.
Mendel said nothing.
Only,
her face showed that she had realized at once that things were not as usual.
The innkeeper’s expression did not change even when he mentioned the extra fee.
Providing more rooms was merely a transaction.
The room assignments were decided briefly.
Bido, Miryeong,
and Mendel in one room.
Aslo, Erdin,
and Melanie in one room.
Rangnan and Muryeong used the last room.
Keys were handed over,
and no more words were exchanged.
As each door closed,
the inn returned once again to its usual noise.
But,
that night was not going to pass as usual for anyone.
The room was dark.
Only one lamp was lit,
and its light swayed slowly along the wall.
Bido was sitting on the bed.
Her hand was still gripping the sword.
Miryeong stood for a while,
then cautiously opened her mouth.
“…I’m sorry.”
Her voice was low, not hurried.
Bido lifted her head, then soon shook it.
“No.”
She paused briefly, then spoke again.
“I was rash.”
Miryeong blinked.
“I followed on my own.”
Bido continued.
“I thought it would be all right,”
“and I thought I could handle it alone.”
Mendel was leaning against the opposite side of the bed with her arms crossed.
“Next time, let’s do it together.”
Mendel spoke gently.
Bido smiled faintly.
Though it was a little awkward to call it a smile.
“Yes…”
After hesitating for a moment, Miryeong approached Bido and lightly pressed down on her head.
“From now on.”
“Don’t decide on your own.”
Bido slowly nodded.
Within that exchange,
the air in the room grew a little lighter.
In another room.
Aslo sat on the edge of the bed.
He had removed his equipment,
but his hands hardly moved from atop his knees.
Melanie was lying back against the bed, checking the condition of his body.
“Looks like I’ll recover faster than I expected.”
He said.
Erdin nodded as he organized the ledger.
“It would be best to move early tomorrow.”
Aslo only nodded briefly,
saying nothing.
Though he did not look at his own sword,
his face looked as if the weight of it still remained in his hand.
And in yet another room.
Muryeong stood silently in one corner of the room.
Rangnan stood by the window, looking outside.
The moon was not visible,
and the city was still noisy.
Rangnan thought of Bido, who would be asleep.
She had survived, but she was clearly in a different state than before.
Bido’s Mirkin had not been handled consciously.
It had reacted to fear,
and had only barely stopped after paying a price.
And—
the moment the sword had left Bido’s hand.
It had been brief,
but not a length of time he could say had not existed at all.
Rangnan erased that possibility from his mind and drew it again, over and over.
“It may be able to move.”
It was a mutter to himself.
Muryeong did not respond.
Rangnan stepped away from the window
and headed to the bed without putting out the light.
He could only hope that this night would end quietly.