About Two Years and Nine Months Later
JeArk Garrison had long since shaken off its desolation. The settlement now teemed with life, though its rebirth carried with it a tapestry of strange, conflicting rumors. Among the most persistent were tales of a twin-bladed immortal—each story more fantastical than the last.
Gami and her family arrived amidst this clamor, their steps cautious, their hearts uncertain. Could such wild accounts truly be Goi's doing?
Gathered around a creaking table at a modest inn, they sifted through the scattered gossip, trying to separate truth from embellishment. In the end, they dismissed most of it as nonsense. Just as they reached their quiet conclusion, a young man—seated a few tables away—jerked his head up at the sound of Goi's name.
Without hesitation, he approached, eyes wide with wonder.
Gami and her family, long accustomed to reactions like these, offered him a brief explanation. Overcome with joy, the young man insisted they accompany him home.
As they followed him through the busy streets, Dui leaned toward Sui with a mischievous grin.
"If he's offering us a meal, Goi must really have been here."
Sui chuckled, clapping Dui on the back, and they continued toward the young man's home.
There, in the courtyard of a modest house, a woman was washing the dust from a young boy's feet. She rose with a warm smile as they approached, clasping Gami's hands in greeting.
She guided her to the veranda, while her husband disappeared into the kitchen, returning soon after with a low wooden table laden with simple, hearty fare.
Seated before the humble feast, Gami and her family listened as the woman began recounting her memories. Dui, already won over by the boy, entertained him with playful gestures while half-listening to the story.
When the woman's voice faltered, her husband eagerly took over. His tone was steady at first, but grew animated as he spoke, his eyes shining with emotion.
He told them of Goi's battle against the demons—how the earth had seemed to tremble under the clash, how the very air had changed.
At the height of his excitement, his voice cracked. His wife, laughing gently, pressed a bowl of rice wine into his hands.
He accepted it with a sheepish smile, then declared, "I heard it myself—the voice of the boar demon."
Sui, refilling his own cup, raised an eyebrow.
"Wait, you just said Goi only shook his bronze bells… and you heard it speak?"
The man nodded solemnly.
"I know how it sounds. But I swear it—upon my life—I heard it."
Sui leaned forward, but Gami tapped her fingernail lightly against the table, signaling him to hold his questions.
The man tilted his head, as though peering backward into memory.
"The last of them... it spoke as if some terrible chain had been broken. It confessed everything—how it had chosen a fool of a man, infused him with its power… and made him governor. In return, that man stole from his own people, feeding the demons with food meant for the villagers."
He lifted his bowl again, but before he could drink, his wife gently pressed her finger against the rim and instead placed a piece of fruit between his lips.
Gami leaned forward.
"Was it the demons who ordered the children buried alive?"
The man shook his head.
"No, Lady. That cruelty was his own. When the granaries were emptied, he set fire to them—to cover up the shortage before Gahn Shindo could discover it."
The woman took up the story, her voice dry and edged with bitterness.
"And when that wasn't enough, the demon joked that fewer mouths would solve the problem. It was just a jest. Even the demon didn't think he'd be fool enough to act on it. But then… he issued the decree."
Sui clenched his fists under the table.
"A man so worthless that even demons mocked him... How could such a man—"
Before he could finish, Dui piped up, still tousling the boy's hair.
"So how did my brother deal with him?"
The woman turned her gaze to Dui, and smiled faintly.
"He made the governor write out every one of his crimes by his own hand... and had us deliver the confession to Gahn Shindo."
Her husband added, pride swelling in his voice, "And a month later, Gahn Shindo himself came to JeArk Garrison—to offer a personal apology and appoint a new governor."
As the others began praising Gahn Shindo's swift and righteous action, Gami's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
She had no fondness for Gahn Shindo—neither for his hypocrisy nor his feeble rule.
But young Dui, mistaking her troubled look for disappointment in Goi's choice, hurried to comfort her.
"Does this mean Goi's finally learning politics, just like your father wanted, Sis-in-law?"
Their uncle Zeali snorted softly.
"If only it were that easy, boy. This is merely the first step into a much tougher world."
But Sui smiled. "Still... perhaps it's a sign he's changing. Don't you think so, Gami?"
Gami said nothing at first. Then, instead of a smile, she released a long, wistful sigh.
"I just wish... he could have stayed the way he was. The way he was before he left me."
She lifted her bowl and took a slow sip of wine, letting the bitterness rest on her tongue.
Sui, sensing her sorrow, tried again.
"But still—if he's honoring your father's wishes, isn't that something to celebrate?"
Gami lowered her gaze. And shook her head.
"I no longer care what my father wishes. Whatever he says, whatever he demands—it means nothing to me now. What I wish now is..."
Her voice softened into a whisper.
"I just want him to do whatever his heart desires. As long as he stays with me..."
Her words hung in the air like a quiet prayer. The woman beside her reached out and clasped Gami's hand gently. Gami returned the touch with a silent nod, her palms tracing the woman's knuckles in wordless gratitude.
The heavy air slowly lifted, and their hosts, their curiosity blooming anew, began asking more about Goi. Laughter and stories wove through the small home, stitching old memories into new hopes.
And so, Gami and her family spent their night in JeArk Garrison, with the warmth of companionship filling the small home.