Even after the man vanished, the valley remained where it was, as though nothing had happened.
The water was flowing,
and the wind passed between the rocks.
The place where the moonlight had lingered was slowly fading as well.
Hajin was already laid on the ground.
His body was neither neatly arranged
nor contorted, merely set down there.
As though someone had placed him there with the utmost care.
Only then did Miryeong’s legs give out.
She had not meant to sit.
It was simply that the act of standing and holding herself upright had come to an end.
Miryeong sank down where she stood and did not lift her head for a long while.
Bido moved a little later.
She went straight to Hajin’s side and knelt.
There was a brief hesitation before she reached out.
Bido carefully placed her hand against Hajin’s neck.
It was cold.
There was no longer any pulse to be felt.
No trace of Mirkin’s presence,
nor any lingering current.
Bido stayed still for a moment, her hand remaining where it was.
Miryeong slowly raised her head and looked at the scene.
There was no need for words.
It had already been confirmed.
Bido withdrew her hand.
That hand lingered in the air for a moment before slowly lowering.
Only sound remained in the valley once more.
It was the same scenery as before.
Perhaps that was why this moment felt even more unfamiliar.
Everything seemed to be over,
but no one said so.
After that, only the things that had to be done remained.
They could not leave Hajin’s body there.
Bido and Miryeong took him and returned to Seuchia.
They had to deliver the news to Yeonrin,
and there was no way to avoid saying it.
Hajin, who had gone missing, had been found.
Looking only at that fact, the request had not failed.
The contract was settled that way.
The things left in the cave also needed to be dealt with.
It was a place people had avoided,
and now the reason had become even clearer.
That became the city’s responsibility,
and passed out of Bido and Miryeong’s hands.
The road back to the inn did not remain clearly in memory.
The feeling beneath her feet,
nor the faces of the people they passed, were distinct.
Bido was aware only of the fact that she was walking.
Though the moonlight had already disappeared,
it felt as if that light still remained inside her eyes.
Her body was saying it wanted to rest,
but her mind could not sort anything out.
And so a day passed.
—
The next day.
When they opened the door,
there were already people inside.
Rangnan and Aslo.
When the two saw Bido and Miryeong, they rose from their seats without a word.
There were no questions asking what had happened.
The moment they saw Miryeong’s state,
and the moment they saw Bido’s face,
that question seemed to become unnecessary.
Aslo was the first to shift his gaze.
To Bido’s hand,
and to the fact that it was empty.
He said nothing.
Rangnan looked at the two of them for a moment, then spoke quietly.
“Sit down first.”
It was neither an order nor an urging.
Bido and Miryeong sat down without a word.
A brief silence flowed through the room.
That silence was neither uncomfortable
nor cold.
It felt merely like the time before one chose their words.
Bido did not know where to begin.
So she brought out the thing that stood foremost.
“Hajin…”
“He did return.”
Bido stopped speaking for a moment.
“But,”
“he did not return alive.”
Aslo closed his eyes, then opened them again.
Rangnan said briefly,
“The request is over.”
Bido could not lift her head at those words.
“We were able to stop it.”
“But,”
“after that, we couldn’t do anything.”
When the words ended, a brief stillness passed through the room.
Miryeong was the first to break that silence.
“…Someone stood in our way.”
“…It wasn’t a matter of being strong or anything like that.”
Even after she had spoken, Miryeong could not find her next words for a moment.
“It wasn’t that we happened to run into an unlucky opponent just once.”
Aslo looked at Miryeong.
Miryeong did not avoid his gaze.
“There was definitely something… different.”
Those words were closer to confirmation than explanation.
“I’m not saying we couldn’t fight.”
“And it wasn’t that there was no need to fight, either.”
Miryeong slowly clenched and unclenched her hand.
“We were there,”
“but there was nothing we could do.”
Bido quietly continued.
“Hajin was…”
“He was definitely alive.”
Those words were close to certainty.
Bido steadied her breath for a moment, then went on.
“After that being touched him…”
“Hajin was dead…”
Rangnan’s gaze changed by the faintest degree.
“There were no wounds, either,”
Bido continued.
“It was just… holding him.”
Miryeong shook her head.
“I don’t even know where it appeared from.”
“I don’t know what it did.”
“And I don’t know where it disappeared to.”
Words piled up one by one,
but none of them became an explanation.
Aslo slowly exhaled.
Rangnan listened to the two of them to the very end without saying a word.
At last, Miryeong spoke in a low voice.
“It was strange.”
“Not because it was dangerous,”
“but because I couldn’t understand it.”
After those words, silence settled again.
This silence was a little different from the one before.
Rangnan and Aslo looked at each other for a moment.
No words passed between them,
but there was a clear confirmation between the two.
Aslo’s lips moved ever so slightly.
“…Surely not.”
The words stopped at that single phrase.
But that single phrase changed the temperature in the room.
Someone swallowed.
And the sound was far too loud.
Only then did Bido realize
that she had been holding her breath.
Though no one asked for a name,
everyone seemed to have thought in the same direction.
Bido felt that the silence was more certain than any answer.
Rangnan gave no reply to those words.
Instead, he slowly closed his eyes.
The space between his brows gradually narrowed.
It was not an expression of deep thought
or of anger.
It was closer to the face one made when confronted with a name they had already known.
Miryeong did not miss it.
“Rangnan. You know something.”
The question was close to certainty.
Rangnan remained still without opening his eyes.
Bido rose from her seat.
The sound of the chair being pushed back was not loud,
but it rang particularly clearly in the room.
“If there is something you know,”
Bido said,
“please tell us now.”
It was neither a plea nor an urging.
It simply seemed, in this situation, that those words were the only choice.
Only then did Rangnan open his eyes.
And still, he said nothing.
As though weighing how much he was allowed to say,
or whether it was right not to say anything at all.
Aslo also said nothing in the meantime.
By the time that silence had grown long enough,
Rangnan finally opened his mouth.
“Roan…”
The name flowed out low.
It was a sound that held neither certainty
nor explanation.
Rangnan could not continue for a moment.
Then he added, very quietly,
“…Who knows.”
With that one phrase, the conversation went no further.
Rangnan remained silent a little longer.
Only after the air in the room had settled did he speak again.
“There isn’t much I can tell you right now.”
Miryeong immediately shot back.
“Then what can you tell us?”
Rangnan did not let those words pass.
“He is dangerous.”
It was a conclusion.
There was no embellishment, nor any room for another possibility.
“He wanders the world searching for something.”
Bido did not miss those words.
“What is it?”
Rangnan looked at Bido for a moment, then turned his gaze away.
“I cannot say that yet.”
Miryeong rested her chin on her hand and spoke low.
“What happens if he finds everything he’s looking for?”
Rangnan’s gaze returned to Miryeong.
“If that matter comes to an end,”
he said slowly,
“this world will end as well.”
A brief silence descended over the room.
Miryeong snorted as though scoffing.
“What kind of—”
Rangnan did not deny it.
“But he cannot be stopped right now.”
Rangnan continued.
“It is not a matter of strength.”
“Nor is it a matter of method.”
“Right now, we are not in a position to lay a hand on him.”
Miryeong crossed her arms and said,
“So you’re saying we should just leave him be and watch.”
“No.”
Rangnan’s answer was short.
“One day, he must be stopped.”
Rangnan then added, very quietly,
“Because that is… my responsibility.”
There was a weight in those words close to duty.
Miryeong tilted her head.
“Huh?”
Bido asked carefully,
“Does it have anything to do…”
“with the Empire?”
Rangnan immediately shook his head.
“It does not.”
“He is a matter separate from the Empire.”
Miryeong clicked her tongue.
“So it’s the troublesome kind.”
Rangnan showed no reaction to those words.
Instead, he shifted his gaze to Bido.
And he did not easily look away.
“Bido.”
The sound of him calling her name felt strangely heavy.
“You cannot help but become entangled with him.”
Bido’s hands stiffened ever so slightly on her knees.
“What?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Rangnan did not answer that question at once.
“If I could explain the reason, I would have already done so.”
Miryeong said in a low voice,
“What is that supposed to mean? What are you saying now?”
Rangnan tilted his head very slightly.
“Whether it is fate,”
“or a rule meant to create another story.”
Those words sounded like an explanation, but they were not one.
Bido closed her mouth.
In the end, the conversation went no further than that.
Only the things left unspoken remained in that place.
Without even confirming whether they could go back.