Days had passed in Sanwi, but the echo of the name Ciel Darkness had not faded. In the markets, people still told the story of the boy who had humiliated Moruto the merchant. Some feared him, others admired him. But all watched him closely.
One evening, as Ciel returned from one of his silent wanderings, Blisen was waiting, seated on a crate, a cigarette between his fingers.
"You can't stay here," he said bluntly.
"Why?"
"Because your name is starting to weigh too heavily. And in this land, names that weigh too much end up buried."
Ciel remained calm, but his eyes hardened.
"Then what do you suggest?"
Blisen exhaled a puff of smoke.
"Go to Darklang. There, you'll find out if your fine words really amount to anything. And if you fail, at least you'll die far from here."
Ciel didn't answer. But that night, he packed a bag. A little rice, his notebook, and the small pouch holding what remained of his bills. His mother, Cagiver, stopped him at the door.
"You're still a child, Ciel," she said, her voice trembling.
"A child doesn't write contracts, Mother," he murmured.
She placed a hand on his cheek.
"Then promise me one thing: no matter what you become, never lose your soul."
He nodded, though deep down, he already knew that this promise would be the hardest to keep.