The man called Roan.
When Bido faced that man,
for the first time, she felt that it was not her body,
but her soul that reacted first.
It was not that she was frightened,
nor that she felt threatened.
Rather, it was as if a thread that had already been connected somewhere had suddenly been pulled taut.
The moment their eyes met,
what came to her before the thought of running away was the sensation that it was already far too late.
She did not know why.
Only—
she was being drawn in.
As if she were being quietly pulled in a direction that had been decided long ago.
Every time she tried to attach a reason to it, the feeling only seemed to recede farther away.
So Bido decided not to explain that sensation.
Not to understand it,
but merely to accept the fact that it had existed—
“Ah.”
Miryeong’s voice cut off the end of her thoughts.
Bido raised her head.
“But about Hajin.”
Miryeong leaned back in her chair,
looking at Rangnan as she spoke.
“His Mirkin went berserk.”
The berserking of a Mirkin was not a rare phenomenon.
But in Hajin’s case, something had been different.
Too fast,
too sudden.
And too powerful.
As if he had not drawn up the power himself, but something had surged in from somewhere else.
Miryeong did not explain that difference in words.
Instead, she paused for a moment.
“It was strange.”
That was all.
Leaving behind only the sense that “there was something else.”
“Thanks to that, we nearly all died.”
Only then did Miryeong turn to Bido.
“But,”
“you did something, didn’t you?”
Bido could not say a word.
Miryeong shifted her gaze to Rangnan and continued.
“She did something to Hajin with that sword.”
Her tone was not one of explanation.
It was more like she was laying out something that had already happened.
“She didn’t fight him,”
“she just stabbed him lightly.”
Miryeong chose her words for a moment, then added briefly.
“And then Hajin completely calmed down.”
That one sentence contained the entirety of that day’s outcome.
Hajin’s Mirkin had not run wild after that,
nor had it spread to those around him.
It was far too clear a change to dismiss as luck.
Even after hearing that, Bido could not answer.
Only the sensation from that time remained in her head.
It had not been a moment when she had resolved to accomplish something,
but a vague certainty that it seemed as though doing so would work.
There had been no reason,
nor had she known the method.
Only—
she felt that if she did so, she could stop it.
So she had reached out,
gripped the sword,
and in that moment alone, she had not hesitated.
She still could not distinguish whether that had been her own judgment,
or a sensation permitted by the sword.
Rangnan did not deny Miryeong’s words.
“I see.”
It was a short reply.
Strangely, there was neither surprise nor doubt in it.
He looked at Bido.
Not for long.
As if confirming something, he merely let his gaze rest on her once.
“A dragon weapon is not something one learns.”
Rangnan spoke calmly.
“When the time comes, one simply comes to know how to use it.”
His words sounded less like instruction and more like bringing up a fact he had already known.
“That sword possesses Tiamar’s power.”
Rangnan paused for a moment.
It was not a silence for choosing words,
but a silence for separating meaning.
“The power of sealing.”
That single phrase summarized the matter.
“It is not a power that destroys.”
“Nor is it a power that erases.”
Rangnan continued calmly.
“It is simply a power that locks a flow.”
Only then did Bido recall what she had done from another perspective.
She had never pushed power against power,
nor had she tried to break anything.
Only—
she had felt that things could not be allowed to continue as they were.
“The Mirkin that had gone berserk had already left his hands,”
“and it was in a state where it could no longer return by its own will.”
Rangnan merely stated that fact plainly.
“What you did was not eliminate it.”
His gaze touched Bido again.
“You locked that connection.”
“So that the rampage could no longer continue.”
“That was what Tiamar’s sword was originally capable of,”
“and the one who used it that way was you.”
His words ended there.
He did not explain further,
nor did he predict what was to come.
Even so, Bido could feel it.
At the very least, it was clear that his words were not praise.
“Ah…”
Bido let out only that single syllable.
It was less like she understood,
and more like something in her head was overlapping without finding its proper place.
As if he had expected that reaction, Rangnan continued without the slightest haste.
“The one who could properly wield that sword was Tiamar, its original master.”
“And now—”
“only you.”
Those words did not cast out a possibility.
Nor did they present a choice.
They simply set down a fact that had already been settled.
Bido’s breath returned a little late.
“But…”
She shook her head.
“In the end, I couldn’t protect Hajin.”
There was neither excuse
nor emotional turmoil in those words.
There was only the result.
“I did stop… the rampage, but…”
“That was all, wasn’t it?”
She did not look at Rangnan.
Nor did she look at Miryeong or Aslo.
Bido’s gaze naturally slipped toward another scene.
That man.
Roan.
The moment their eyes had met,
it had felt less as though power had surged in than as though the world itself had reacted a beat too late.
There had been no time to think about what she should do.
He had done nothing,
and yet it had seemed as though everything had already taken his side.
It was completely different from the moment she had stopped Hajin.
Back then, she had at least possessed a vague certainty that it seemed possible—
but in front of Roan, even that sensation had not been granted to her.
So Bido quietly added,
“That person…”
“was completely different.”
Those words were neither a declaration of defeat
nor a confession of fear.
Only—
an instinctive judgment that he could not be placed on the same line.
For a moment, no one in the room continued speaking.
That silence told them in advance
that the next topic would by no means be light.
Only after listening to Bido’s words to the end did Rangnan open his mouth again.
“Do not be impatient.”
His voice was low, but it drew a clear line.
“You have only just come to know that sword.”
He did not say that she had discovered it,
nor that she could wield it.
“That is all.”
Rangnan took one step closer and looked at Bido.
“What you must do now is not prove what you can do with it.”
He paused briefly,
then continued a little more slowly.
“Do what you must do.”
“The time will come.”
There was no certainty or prophecy mixed into those words.
Only the weight born of experience.
“For that time,”
“do what you can do even now.”
The air in the room settled slightly.
As if to fill that gap, Miryeong opened her mouth.
“Yeah.”
This time, her tone was meant to brush things off lightly.
“You’re already doing well.”
Bido listened without being able to raise her head.
“If you hadn’t been there,”
Miryeong let out a short breath.
“would I be standing here?”
It was neither laughter nor a joke.
The words were tossed out as though she were simply stating a fact.
A brief silence flowed after them.
Aslo said nothing.
He merely nodded quietly.
Everyone could tell that small movement meant agreement.
Only then did Bido let out one long breath.
There were still more things she did not know,
and Roan’s figure did not disappear from her mind, but—
what she had to do now felt a little clearer.
“But Rangnan.”
Miryeong folded her arms and tilted her head.
Her tone was not meant to change the mood,
nor did her voice add to the gravity.
It was simply—
like a question that had to be asked in this situation.
“Are we really supposed to keep staying here like this?”
At those words, Bido looked around for the first time.
The room of an inn.
A place where they had laid their bodies down temporarily.
A space she had thought they would leave after a short stay.
But already, one day, then two, had passed.
Rangnan did not answer for a moment.
It was not that he was hesitating.
It was closer to the time taken by someone who already knew the answer to deliberately arrange his thoughts again.
“Yun will be handling things well.”
Only one name fell quietly.
Miryeong’s expression showed that she already understood the meaning of those words.
But Bido did not.
“This person Yun…”
Her voice was cautious.
“What is he doing?”
The question was less curiosity about Yun as an individual
and more a question asking why they were staying here.
This time, Rangnan looked at Bido as he spoke.
“It is the work the Silver Moon Order is doing.”
And for the first time, the direction of the conversation changed.
“Arku is not yet the Empire’s land.”
Those words stated a fact,
and at the same time contained the precariousness of the present.
“But the Empire has already entered it.”
A branch of the Church of the Sun God.
Political intervention.
Changes in laws and customs.
Rangnan did not list the details at length.
There was no need to do so now.
“The reason the Empire does not occupy it by force is simple.”
“Because there is no need to fight.”
Miryeong clicked her tongue softly.
“Of course.”
Rangnan nodded.
“Arku is called a natural fortress.”
“The cost of waging war there would be too great,”
“and there is no justification.”
“So the Empire enters slowly.”
“And if it makes Arku its own territory,”
Rangnan delayed his words by a beat.
“the roads to the south and the east will open.”
Only then did Bido vaguely sense the scale of the story.
It was not a problem concerning Arku alone,
but the broader current that followed behind it.
“That is why the Silver Moon Order,”
Rangnan continued,
“is preventing Arku from becoming the Empire’s territory.”
It was a simple statement.
But within it lay all the silence up to now,
and all the quiet movements.
“They do not fight.”
“The moment they stand out,”
“they have already lost.”
The room fell quiet again.
Bido felt the place where she stood slowly becoming clearer.
She was not yet at the center,
but she had already set foot in the innermost part.
In that way, the story was quietly being pushed toward the next stage.
For a moment, no words passed through the room.
Then—
Knock, knock.
A careful sound of knocking rang at the door.
Miryeong was the first to shift her gaze,
and Aslo rose silently from his seat.
When the door opened, Mendel poked his face in.
“Uh… would now be all right for a moment?”
His expression was one of someone trying to smile lightly, only to swallow his words.
“I heard something a little strange.”
His gaze swept once over everyone in the room.
It was enough to convey that the news was certainly not good.