The trees didn't ask questions.
The wind didn't demand answers.
And for the first time in weeks, no one was trying to kill them.
But Sim Gwan still couldn't speak.
---
They found an abandoned campsite two miles off the main path. Tucked into the hills. Sheltered from wind.
Baek-Ha checked it for traps, then settled him down without a word.
She didn't press.
Didn't ask why he hadn't spoken since the fight.
Just built a fire. Cooked porridge. Sat beside him.
He tried to speak once mouth open, throat dry but the words turned to ash before they could form.
It wasn't fear.
It was too much.
Too many things inside him, clawing over each other, none big enough to become a sentence.
So he said nothing.
For three days.
---
They spent the days walking.
At night, she made soup.
She talked. Told stories he half-heard. Mocked his expressionless face with lightness he didn't deserve.
And she didn't leave.
That was all that mattered.
---
On the fourth morning, they saw him.
The monk.
He was kneeling at the edge of a stream, robes soaked, hands cupped in prayer. His face was thin. Hollow. Eyes pale as snow.
And he had no ears.
Only scars.
Baek-Ha reached for her blade.
Sim held up a hand.
The monk turned smiled.
And bowed.
---
He didn't speak.
He moved.
Gestured for them to follow.
Led them to a quiet garden carved into the rock behind a waterfall. Small shrine. Bamboo mats. Cracked stone statues worn smooth by time and wind.
He offered them food. Water. A place to rest.
He asked for nothing.
Just watched.
When night came, he tapped his chest.
Then pointed at Sim.
Then at a scroll on the altar.
Sim approached.
The scroll was plain. Old. Sealed with red wax.
He broke it.
Inside: a single line, written in brushstrokes so precise they looked alive.
> "Silence is not failure. It is the sword that waits."
Sim inhaled sharply.
And finally the words returned.
"I'm tired of being hunted," he said.
Baek-Ha looked up.
"I'm tired of being a thing that happened to me," he continued. "Tired of waiting for permission to matter. Tired of thinking I was only strong because someone pushed me far enough."
Baek-Ha stood.
Walked over.
And sat beside him.
She didn't speak.
She just reached up.
And gently touched the scar behind his right ear the first one he'd ever gotten. The one he'd hidden under his hair. The one no one ever noticed.
The one he got before he became Sim Gwan.
He flinched.
Then leaned into her hand.
---
They stayed the night in the garden.
Under stars. Under silence. Under something soft neither of them could name.
---
The monk left before dawn.
No note. No trail. Just gone.
But where he sat, there was a stone bowl filled with mountain ash.
And carved into the earth beneath it:
> "When you're ready, burn the name.
When you're free, choose the next."
---
Sim Gwan stared at the ash for a long time.
Baek-Ha watched him.
"You want to?"
He shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
He looked at her.
Then said:
"Because I want you to be there when I do."
---