Late at night, a knock pulled Iro from sleep.
She slipped from her bed and crossed the room, one hand brushing the dagger she kept close out of habit more than fear. When she opened the door, cool night air spilled in.
Merun stood there under the moonlight. His hair was damp, clothes were cut, shoulders sagging with fatigue.
"You're back," she said, the relief in her voice catching her by surprise.
He nodded once.
Then she noticed someone behind him.
A boy hovered half-hidden in the dark, thin frame wrapped in worn clothes. He flinched when her eyes met his, shrinking back as if expecting a shout—or worse.
"…A kid?" she asked softly.
Later, the hut was warm again.
A small pot simmered over the fire, and the smell of stew filled the room. The boy—Muji—sat near the hearth, eating carefully, fast but controlled, like someone who had learned not to trust full bowls. He didn't speak, didn't look up, just focused on finishing every bite.
Outside, Merun and Iro sat on the steps, cups of hot milk resting between their hands. Steam rose and disappeared into the night.
Muji stayed silent.
Merun didn't.
He told her what had happened—about the village, the poisoned well, the deaths. About the sister burning with fever. Sakai. The duel. The lie that turned a crowd into a cheering storm.
Iro listened without interrupting. Her expression tightened as the story went on.
When Merun explained why the boy had done it, she let out a quiet breath.
"…He's just a child. He's barely seven," she said.
"Yeah," Merun replied.
They sat with that for a while.
"Then why bring him here?" she asked, not accusing—just curious.
Merun looked out into the dark.
"I don't know," he admitted. "What he did matters. People died." He shifted the cup in his hands. "But it wasn't cruelty. It was fear. Love, in a messed-up way."
He paused.
"It wasn't just him. It was everyone around him. The village. The people in charge." His voice dropped slightly. "So… do you think I was wrong?"
Iro thought about it.
"I don't think it's about right or wrong," she said at last. "...What I do know is that you did saved someone."
He blinked.
"And," she added, "his sister's going to live. She was taken in. Apparently, she's being raised as Maeda's successor."
Merun let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
"…Good," he said. "Guess Maeda wasn't completely dogshit after all." He tilted his head. "You think the Beggar Sage planned all of this?"
Iro shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe he just lets things happen and watches what people do with them."
Merun sighed, massaging his temples.
She glanced back toward the hut.
Muji sat near a candle now, eyelids heavy, spoon moving more slowly as warmth and exhaustion caught up to him.
"What about him?" she asked.
Merun followed her gaze.
"He won't get away scott-free," he said. "But he won't pay in blood either... He'll help people. Contribute to humanity. That's the only way forward I see." After a moment, he added, "Think you could help him find his way into the Beggar Sect someday?"
Iro studied the boy for a bit.
"I can try," she said.
The candle flickered.
"Good work ag—"
SNORE.
The sound surprised her, "What? Are you asleep already? At least sleep inside!"
———
The next morning came too quickly.
Mist still clung to the ground as Merun and Iro made their way beyond the huts, towards the small hut outside the village.
Only Merun entered as he found him waiting where he always did.
Only this time, the Beggar Sage was young.
Lean frame, relaxed posture, dark hair tied loosely behind his head. He looked no older than twenty, sitting cross-legged as if he'd been there all morning.
"Well if it isn't the masked villain," he said with a grin. "You're getting famous, you know."
Merun didn't slow down.
In a blink, he was there—fist clenched in the Sage's collar, lifting him clean off the rock.
"You," Merun hissed. "What the fuck was that test?"
The Sage dangled comfortably, still smiling.
"Was it planned?" Merun demanded. "Did you send me there knowing what would happen? Knowing I'd have to decide something like that?"
The Sage's eyes flicked briefly.
"It was a coincidence," he said calmly. "But we knew there was a high likelihood of all that happening."
He smiled. "… It resulted in one rather happy ending."
Merun's grip tightened. "Don't."
"Saika Maeda," the Sage continued. "She eats three meals a day, has a warm bed at night, with both academic and martial education. That wouldn't have happened without you."
Merun's jaw clenched.
"And her brother?" he asked.
The smile vanished.
"If it were up to me," the Sage said, voice hardening, "I would have dragged that punk to prison and had him executed."
"What?"
"Age doesn't absolve guilt," the Sage went on. "If the world learns that being a child shields you from consequence, then criminal organizations will simply start using children. Couriers. Assassins. Scapegoats."
Merun scoffed. "That's a stretch."
The Sage met his gaze evenly. "In this country? Nothing that deplorable is impossible."
Silence fell between them.
Merun released him.
He stepped back, fists trembling—not with rage, but thought.
"…At the end of the day," Merun said slowly, "the choice was mine." He looked down at his hands. "And I don't believe the kid deserved to die. It wasn't just his fault. The village failed him. The system failed him."
He raised his head.
"Maybe that makes me biased. But I'll accept that." His voice steadied. "I only need to follow what I believe is right."
The Sage studied him for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
He reached into his robes and tossed something.
Merun caught it reflexively.
Another scouter.
"This one's new," the Sage said. "Tracks all the way up to ten thousand... or around early Martial Senior level. We've tested it across Panama." He tapped the one resting on his own temple. "You should finally be able to see how powerful you've become."
Merun turned it over, impressed despite himself.
"…Not right now, though," the Sage added, "I have a question first."
Merun frowned. "What is it?"
The Sage tilted his head.
"What are your thoughts on having children?"
Merun stared at him, horrified.
"…You," he said slowly. "You know I'm eleven, right?"
The Sage smiled. "You said you were an adult."
"Yes, but—" Merun gestured wildly. "Can we follow Panama's standards on this one?! Why even ask?"
"Nothing," the Sage said lightly. "Nothing at all."
A horrible thought passed Merun's mind.
How strong would a half-panaman-human, half-saiayan be?
Merun squinted. "Can I ask a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Can I have a Martial Path?" Merun said.
The Beggar Sage paused in thought, "...I don't see why not? Why ask?"
"...Can beasts and monsters have a Martial Path?"
The Beggar Sage's eyes widen. "...You mean to say, you don't have a Martial Path yet?" He reached his hand out, "Give me some of your hair."
"That's a weird thing to ask."
"Stop joking around. Just give it to me and I'll have the sect's scientists do some research... Unless you don't want to know if you can have a Martial Path?" He asked cautiously.
Merun sighed, "Fine."
"Why do you keep meeting me in different bodies?" Merun said as he cut off bits of his hair. "It's… off-putting."
"Oh, that." The Sage shrugged. "Convenience. I can be on one end of Panama and on the other just an hour later. Switching bodies is faster than travel."
Merun's expression darkened.
"You know you're killing yourself every time you do that, right?"
The Sage's eyes narrowed just slightly.
"...You know more than you let on," he murmured. "And yes. I figured that out a long time ago." He smiled faintly. "It doesn't bother me anymore."
Merun looked away.
"Anyway," the Sage said, clapping his hands once. "Enough chatter. Your final task."
Merun groaned. "Here we go."
"Go south," the Sage continued. "To the city of Ise. Find the man named Bankei."
"…How far?" Merun asked warily.
"Sakai took you three days of nonstop running, didn't it?"
Merun sighed "...How far is it this time?"
The Sage grinned, ignoring his question. "We've integrated a map into the scouter. It'll be easier now."
He turned serious.
"You should hurry. Bankei is on death row."