Do Yeon was never quiet—not unless he was scheming. Yet as he walked beside Jin Seol through the crooked alleys of the lower district, words failed him.
It had been five years since they last spoke. Five years since he'd left the Beggar Sect in search of a better life. And though his tongue had sweet-talked soldiers, traders, and even bandits out of their coin, standing beside Jin Seol again left his chest heavier than he expected.
He glanced at Jin from the corner of his eye.
The boy he once knew was leaner now—sharpened by pain, honed by something unspoken. The same cold eyes, but heavier. Calmer. Tired.
"You're really alive," Do Yeon finally said, as if confirming it for himself.
"I could say the same to you," Jin replied, his voice low.
Do Yeon smiled, but it faltered.
"You know, after I left… I always figured you'd show up somewhere eventually," Do Yeon said, smiling softly. "Maybe in some sect, maybe causing trouble. But then… things got quiet. I guess I just hoped you were still out there."
Jin didn't respond.
Do Yeon didn't push.
Instead, he kept talking. That was always how it worked.
"I started small. Pitched a deal to a spice trader heading east. Got robbed two days later, but I learned. Got better. Started selling real goods. Traveled with a caravan to Hanju, then the coast. I've been to more towns than I can count."
He grinned and held out his hands.
"Now I'm broke again, but I've got connections, a mule cart, and a reputation for smooth words and fair deals."
Jin nodded slowly. "You did well."
The words were quiet, but something about them made Do Yeon's grin return—this time for real.
"What about you?" Do Yeon asked. "Still punching walls and stealing scrolls?"
Jin's lip twitched. "Something like that."
They walked in silence for a few more steps before Do Yeon looked up at the sky.
"Strange, isn't it?" he said. "Running into you again like this."
Jin's eyes lingered on the road ahead. "Maybe it was supposed to happen."
Do Yeon gave a quiet breath of laughter—less a chuckle, more a release of something he didn't know he'd been holding.
"Then I'm glad it did," he said, softer now. "It's good to see you, Jin."
⸻
Later that night, they sat outside a shuttered bakery, sharing stale flatbread and half a dried plum Do Yeon had bargained off a drunk noble's servant. Do Yeon talked, and Jin listened.
They spoke of nothing and everything: old teachers in the Beggar Sect, the taste of pickled radish from the market stalls, a girl Do Yeon once tried to charm who turned out to be married to a weapons dealer.
The warmth between them was easy. Like no time had passed.
But beneath Jin's calm, there was a storm brewing.
He hadn't told Do Yeon anything. Not about the pills. Not about the crossbow. Not about the pain that still visited him each night in the form of burning memories and blood-soaked dreams.
He wouldn't. Not yet.
No one could know what he carried.
Not even Do Yeon.
⸻
Elsewhere, beneath the flickering torches of a quiet war chamber, So Taek read his latest reports in silence.
The crossbow had been seen in three provinces now. Word had spread faster than expected. Too fast.
His men had failed to track the original source—but several versions had been reverse-engineered by local craftsmen.
"It's spreading," he muttered.
A courier burst into the chamber moments later, pale-faced and trembling.
So Taek didn't like interruptions.
"Speak."
"There's movement… on the northern front," the boy stammered. "A coalition of minor sects have begun mustering forces. A messenger was caught. He carried a seal belonging to the Black Grove Sect."
So Taek's eyes narrowed.
Black Grove was small, but reckless. If they were the first to strike, it would ignite the border into war before the spring thaw.
He turned back to his map, fingers brushing the place where the Beggar Sect used to be stronger—where a certain alley now birthed strange rumors.
"Let them think they're first," he said softly.
"We'll be last—and still the ones standing."