A Quiet Farewell in Katon

Their final evening in Katon Village did not end with a grand farewell banquet under Kantwi’s direction.

It was simply a meal prepared with a little more care than usual, a little more refinement, and ingredients a little more expensive than ordinary—served in slightly greater abundance than the everyday table.

The remaining houseguests, Mundor and Storey, had already begun their drinking early at the village tavern, so dinner was laid out on the open wooden veranda of the detached annex where Hwanin was staying. Isilite, freshly returned from her last leatherworking lesson, joined them along with Kantwi and Emergency Food.

Kueet.

Emergency Food ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠took part, though not at the same table. He neither sulked nor squawked in protest. He simply beamed with pure happiness over the mountain of meat and the mountain of vegetables piled high on the decorative table set out exclusively for him.

After the meal, while they sipped tea as dessert, Kantwi spoke with open regret and reluctance.

“So tomorrow is the day you leave us, Lord Hwanin. It has only been two days, yet it feels as though a full week has passed. Hahaha.”

“I must have been such a burden that time itself slowed down for you.”

When Kantwi startled at the reply, Hwanin smiled to show it was only a joke. The landlord wiped his brow with a handkerchief as though he had just escaped disaster and let out a long breath.

“I casually mentioned your words to the Freehold Apostle. The effect was remarkable.”

“Is that so.”

“He wept openly and kept murmuring how fortunate it was. Afterward he seemed somewhat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠relieved, so I doubt we will hear any more talk of him resigning his apostleship. Still, I would strongly advise you to dispose of the robe you wore on the road to Parhist.”

“I had already decided to do so. Too many eyes saw both me and Isilite.”

The apostle would certainly file a report concerning him to Parhist. Among the travelers who had glimpsed him the previous night, many had already departed that morning or afternoon. They would reach Parhist ahead of him and spread word of the Soul Master.

A party of two. A Soul Master without aura, accompanied by a slender female warrior. And a white-hooded robe.

If he walked the streets of Parhist still wearing that white robe, his identity would be exposed in an instant.

“And should you find yourself without suitable lodgings upon arriving in Parhist, please seek out the address written here. It is an estate managed by an acquaintance of mine. He will receive you with every courtesy.”

Kantwi held out a note and a letter. Hwanin accepted them with a small smile.

“I am truly grateful that you would go to such lengths for a complete stranger.”

“It is I who should be thanking you.”

Leaving many further words unspoken, Kantwi drained the last of his tea, remarked that the hour had grown late, bowed at the waist, and returned to the main house.

Hwanin watched the landlord’s retreating back through narrowed eyes.

“…….”

He turned the letter and note over in his fingers without speaking.

More than two hundred days had already passed since he had fallen into this world. A faint sense of dissonance had begun to settle over him.

“There are more violent incidents than I expected. Cities show plenty of dark undercurrents. People believe in the Garden of the Gods and fear Honjae, yet so many of their actions have nothing to do with love or peace.”

“……Pardon?”

Isilite, who had been clearing the teacups and teapot, rounded her eyes at his quiet murmur.

“What do you make of the fact that so many people dread Honjae yet behave as though they do not fear them at all?”

“Hmm…… perhaps simply because they are people?”

Surprised by the unexpected answer, Hwanin looked at her. Isilite scratched her cheek lightly and continued.

“I think most people do not look at the world as high or as wide as you do, Master. When I was still a bandit leader myself, the farthest I ever planned was a week ahead—scouting the next target and managing the gang.”

“…….”

“So maybe they just act on whatever impulse strikes them in the moment. And when moderately bad people and moderately good people live together, accidents happen, fights break out, people die and kill…… I think that is simply how it is.”

Her words cut cleanly to the heart of human nature. Hwanin gave a short laugh and carefully put away the letter Kantwi had left.

“You are right. People commit crimes while thinking, ‘I’m only moderately selfish, only moderately stupid—I won’t get caught.’ That is what people do.”

Come to think of it, Earth had been full of people who committed crimes that made one wonder whether they were in their right minds. Stealing from unmanned convenience stores. Smashing free condom dispensers to take the contents. Raiding a phone shop in the middle of the night only to walk off with a few display-model smartphones.

More than anything, impulsive crimes far outnumbered carefully planned ones. Even planned crimes were often born of desperate poverty. Some people simply lived by a different code, where crime itself was a way of life.

This world would be no different. The only true distinction from Earth was……

The existence of souls, and the existence of heaven.

Did those who feared the corruption of the soul yet still committed crimes simply refuse to believe in the afterlife? Or did they have some other refuge of faith?

Muttering inwardly that Kantwi had left him with these complicated thoughts, Hwanin rose from his seat and spoke to Isilite.

“We leave early tomorrow morning. Best to sleep early tonight.”

“Yes, Master. Good night.”

“You as well. Sleep well.”

Before the sun had even risen, Hwanin woke, dressed in his leather gear, and stepped out onto the veranda. There he found several items wrapped in cloth and a single letter waiting for him.

He had sensed someone approach during the night, yet Emergency Food, sleeping on the veranda, had shown no concern, so he had remained lying down.

“…….”

The note was from Kantwi.

Packed lunches for the road, the dried tea leaves Hwanin had once praised, an elegant porcelain liquor bottle, and a small silk pouch. Inside the pouch, five gold coins glittered even in the darkness.

“Master, preparations for departure are complete.”

Isilite arrived with Kurti and Emergency Food, speaking in a soft whisper.

“Let us go.”

Riding Emergency Food toward the village’s southern gate, Hwanin glanced back once toward Kantwi’s mansion. Built halfway up the hill inside the village, the house was clearly visible even in the dark. A light burned in one of the third-floor windows—likely the landlord’s own room. The silhouette standing by the window was surely Kantwi himself.

Whether the man could see him or not, Hwanin offered a silent bow of respect, then turned his gaze forward once more.

“Whaaaat?!”

Around midday, after seeing Hwanin off, Kantwi was still nursing a brutal hangover when Yurpa burst in and shouted. The sound split his skull; he groaned in agony.

“Elder Sister, my head is killing me. Please lower your voice.”

“When did he leave?! Why?!”

“Why else? Lord Hwanin had his own schedule to keep…….”

Answering weakly, Kantwi recalled the events of a few hours earlier.

He had spent the entire night without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sleep, nursing cup after cup of liquor, and had watched Hwanin depart in the pale pre-dawn light. He had exhaled a long, dramatic breath. Even so, the heavy stone lodged in his chest refused to lift.

“…….”

Kantwi’s first impression of Hwanin had been that of a young master from a high-ranking family—a scholarly, gentle noble who simply enjoyed travel, or perhaps the son of a powerful clan.

It was a reasonable assumption. The man rode a rare and expensive Green Kue and kept a classed combatant as his attendant. There had been no reason, and no evidence, to think otherwise.

So Kantwi had invited him into his home as a guest. Should any villager offer insult to such a person, disaster might follow.

Once he had brought Hwanin home, Kantwi had treated him with sincere hospitality. He had given him every consideration, even offering his cherished traditional annex so the guest might rest in comfort.

Yet the image he had first formed of the man began to crack almost at once.

The story of how he had obtained the Green Kue, the ordeal of escaping an open labyrinth, and the fact that the same Green Kue could dominate a 3rd-class attendant in combat—apparently because Hwanin himself had taught the bird fighting techniques.

……Kantwi had heard of training that stripped a Kue of fear to make it battle-ready, but teaching it actual combat arts?

Then came the sparring match in which Hwanin had casually floored a 4th-class fighter among the houseguests. Kantwi had forgotten all dignity and grown openly excited. The old cliché of an unclassed man thrashing a classed warrior still had power, after all.

The next day the Green Kue itself had also floored the 4th-class fighter. And the 3rd-class warrior who served as attendant had won a decision against the same 4th-class opponent.

By then Kantwi had begun to sense something deeply wrong.

An unawakened, scholarly, impeccably mannered young master of high birth who could instruct both a 3rd-class warrior and a Green Kue in combat techniques, and who could personally thrash a 4th-class fighter……

……Could such a person even exist?

His bewilderment had barely settled when, that very night, a bomb had dropped on Katon Village.

A lofty pilgrim walking the path of spiritual sanctity had uncovered an Akryung—an evil spirit that had been lurking in the heart of the village.

And that pilgrim of souls had been none other than his guest?

Not an ordinary Soul Master, but a high-ranking one capable of summoning souls into the physical world?

Kantwi’s breath had caught in his throat.

A formidable martial artist who treated 4th-class combatants like infants, a scholarly young master of high birth, and a high-ranking Soul Master all in one?

As if his head were not already spinning, a crisis had erupted in the village. He had spent the night in emergency meetings, chairing the merchants’ council in place of the dazed apostle. The following day he had raced about without sleep, quelling every disturbance that arose.

That was probably why, after dinner, while sharing a warm cup of tea with Hwanin, his tension had finally loosened and he had made a careless mistake.

Those ruffians—troublemakers of the village, yes, but children he had watched grow from infancy. A small, pitying curiosity had made him wonder whether they had found peace and rest after death. He had let the question slip, only to be met by the eyes of a judge who condemned the wicked.

Fortunately his long experience meeting all sorts of people had allowed him to smooth the blunder over, yet even now cold sweat beaded on his skin and his chest felt heavy.

And so Kantwi had thought:

Lord Hwanin would not look out of place even as the king of a nation.

Once that thought took root, he had somehow emptied six bottles of liquor……

“So where did he go?!”

“Elder Sister, please, your voice…….”

“I said where did he go!!!”

Terrified that his skull might actually split, Kantwi wiped cold sweat and managed to force out that Hwanin had left for Parhist.

“…….”

Apparently that was the answer she wanted. The sudden silence made him sigh in relief. Only then could he look properly at Yurpa, who stood chewing her thumbnail with a storm of emotions crossing her face.

……The White Flower phenomenon?

Yurpa’s hair was pure snow-white, neatly combed, and she wore a modest gray robe that matched it perfectly. Gone was the usual revealing dress that left nothing of her figure to the imagination; now every inch of skin except her neck and a strip of wrist was demurely covered.

Surely not.

One more line was added to the evaluation of Hwanin forming in Kantwi’s mind.

A martial artist who could thrash 4th-class fighters, a young master of high birth, a pilgrim of souls—and the owner of “peerless stamina” capable of fully satisfying even a member of the Heupjeong-.

Thinking that even he would have fallen for the man if he had been a woman, Kantwi drained an entire bottle of cold water and asked,

“Elder Sister, you have fallen hard for him, haven’t you?”

“……Look at how I have changed. The man who remade me like this is the first of his kind.”

A flush rose to her cheeks as she continued with a shocking confession.

“That is not all. Can you guess what I tried to do after the White Flower took me? I wanted to pour every unsold item in my shop—and my entire fortune—into my special bag and give it all to him. I did not feel the slightest regret. Money can always be earned again by crafting more magic tools.”

The self of that moment had been herself and yet not herself. She had intended to gift him everything she owned without a second thought.

Even if she had come to her senses a few days later, she might have felt a twinge of regret, but she would never have truly regretted it. What she had prepared were goods, coin, and valuables—none of the materials needed for crafting magic tools. As she had said, a few years of work would have restored it all.

“But he…… refused. He turned down a fortune worth at least two thousand five hundred gold coins without batting an eye. Could you refuse that without a single blink?”

Kantwi was equally stunned. Two thousand five hundred gold coins was the sum of his entire personal wealth. Magic tools were easy to convert into cash, yet the man had rejected them?

“Do you know why? He said he was not some kept man. He said he had held me only because I was attractive, because he liked me…….”

As she spoke, Yurpa looked like a girl suffering her first, aching love. The white hair, the pale skin, and the gray robe only heightened the image of an untouched, pure maiden.

“All my life I have been pointed at as a parasite who lives by stealing a man’s essence, a mosquito that sucks a man’s vital blood. He was the first person who ever accepted me as a woman. Baby Flower Pig, can you understand how I felt? Can you even imagine what those words did to me?”

“…….”

Kantwi could find nothing to say as he watched Yurpa’s eyes fill with tears.

Had he himself not said something similar to Lord Hwanin? That Elder Sister was of the Heupjeong-, that following her would only get his essence drained?

It had been the truth, yet sometimes speaking the truth only inflicted deeper wounds. Why had he never realized that?

“Sniff. That is why I intend to follow him.”

“Elder Sister…….”

“But I cannot leave at once. I still have contracted deliveries and the shop to settle.”

Even so, the settling would take only a few days. She had come to ask him to wait just a little while—only to learn that Hwanin had left the village at dawn.

Looking at Yurpa’s red-tipped nose and quiet sniffles, Kantwi’s thoughts grew thoroughly tangled.

Was it safe to tell her Lord Hwanin’s destination? The man was a high-ranking Soul Master. If Elder Sister chased after him and became a nuisance, it would bring misfortune to her and to Lord Hwanin alike……

……No. Lord Hwanin would wrap Elder Sister around his little finger with one hand. It would not matter. In fact, it might even be better for him.

True, Elder Sister was an unmarried spinster, yet the lifespan of the Heupjeong- was roughly two hundred seventy years. She was fifty-seven this year, but her race aged so slowly that no one could call her old.

Moreover she was a 6th-class mystic artisan and a skilled crafter of magic tools. She would only be an asset on Lord Hwanin’s journey, never a hindrance.

After a moment’s thought, Kantwi spoke in a voice still rough from drink.

“Elder Sister, if you cast a hangover-relief spell on me, I will tell you something useful.”

“……If it is not useful, I will curse you with a fivefold hangover.”

Under that terrifying threat Kantwi broke into a cold sweat. Yurpa’s hand glowed with a soft blue light; the hangover that had been turning his brain to mush and trying to split his skull vanished. He exhaled a small sigh of relief.

At last he felt human again.

“Lord Hwanin most likely headed here.”

“What is this? Ruslan Estate? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You introduced him?”

“Yes. But knowing his temperament…… he may well have chosen somewhere else to settle.”

“That does not matter. As long as he is in Parhist, finding him will be easy.”

“……And even if you leave this very moment, catching up to him will be difficult. Both he and his attendant are riding Kues. It would be wiser to finish everything you need to settle here first, then pursue him with a calm heart.”

“I will. Since that is how it is, would you spread the word for me? I am putting the entire shop on a fifty-percent flat discount.”

“Heh. At that price I might as well buy everything myself.”

“Will you? Then do so. Just do not overdo the reselling, all right?”

“As if I would pick the pockets of the villagers. More importantly—”

Yurpa had been about to leave the room when Kantwi’s pointed tone made her turn back.

“I understand how deeply you have come to love him. But…… he is a greater man than you imagine. I only hope you will not let your desire block the path that lies before him.”

“If a woman stands in the way of her man when he is about to do great things, is that still a woman? A bitch like that should have her hole plugged shut so she can never drop a child.”

“Cough.”

Choking on the brutally frank remark, Kantwi coughed while watching Yurpa mount her broom and fly out of the mansion toward the village, his expression complicated.

……Lord Hwanin. I entrust Elder Sister to your care.

Yet neither Kantwi, offering that silent prayer, nor Yurpa herself realized one crucial fact.

Yurpa had no idea that Hwanin normally traveled with the hood of his dark-gray leather jacket raised, that he was accompanied by Isilite, and that he rode a Green Kue.