The decision had been made.
Yet the world did not change.
No doors opened in the mountains. No ship came to wait for Meruem at the foot of Mitu's dwelling. No man arrived with a map of the Cursed Continent under his arm and the exact location of Folklore circled in red ink.
Komugi was still lying in the next room.
The wind kept striking the shutters.
And the Cursed Continent remained somewhere beyond a world Meruem barely knew.
He sat for a long time.
An unusual posture for him.
When he had once decided to eliminate someone, the interval between will and action had never mattered. Distance, walls, armies—these were only quantities.
This time, the problem could not be reduced so easily.
He could run faster than most humans.
Cross a mountain.
Break a ship.
Crush anyone who blocked his path.
But he did not know where Folklore was.
He did not know how to reach the Cursed Continent—legally or even physically.
He did not know how long the journey would take.
And above all…
He did not know how much time Komugi had left.
Meruem raised his eyes.
— How much?
Mitu, who was putting several vials away in a cabinet, did not turn around.
— How much what?
— How long can she last?
The old woman slowly closed the wooden door.
Edrin, sitting near the wall, stopped rolling the coin between his fingers.
Mitu remained silent.
Meruem understood immediately.
— You don't know.
— No.
The answer was dry.
Without comfort.
Meruem preferred it that way.
— An estimate.
— That would be lying to you.
She finally turned around.
In the dim light, her single eye looked even harsher.
— Her condition is not an ordinary illness. Her Nen does not simply diminish. It constantly seeks a balance it can no longer maintain.
She placed two fingers against her own chest.
— Imagine someone walking on a rope.
Then she shifted her hand slightly.
— I can correct her position when she leans.
Another movement.
— I can slow certain imbalances.
Her hand stopped.
— But I cannot remove the rope.
Meruem listened without looking away.
— So Death Judge cannot cure her.
— I already told you that.
— We want to understand why, precisely.
Mitu exhaled faintly.
— Because you are still looking for a flaw in my words.
Meruem did not answer.
She was right.
Mitu took a small cup, filled it with water, and placed it on the edge of the table.
— Come closer.
Meruem looked at the cup.
Then at her.
— Why?
— Because unlike what you seem to believe, not everything that exists was created to be understood from a distance.
He stood up.
Edrin smiled faintly.
Meruem ignored him.
Mitu placed her index finger against the rim of the cup.
— This is Komugi.
She tilted the container slightly.
The water shifted.
— This is her aura.
She straightened the cup.
The water returned.
— This is what her body normally does.
She tilted it again.
Then suddenly straightened it.
The water oscillated.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
— Now imagine that every correction creates a new oscillation.
She steadied the cup with her hand.
— Death Judge can do this.
The water stopped moving.
— I can intervene.
She removed her hand.
The water began to oscillate again, slightly.
— But I do not replace the system.
Meruem watched the movement.
— Would Folklore do it?
Mitu looked at him.
— According to reports.
— Not according to your experience.
— No.
That answer mattered.
Meruem recorded it immediately.
Folklore was not yet a certainty.
Only the best available hypothesis.
A dangerous idea appeared in his mind.
What if the plant did not work?
He crushed it immediately.
Not because it was impossible.
Because it was not yet useful.
He had to solve problems in order.
Find Folklore.
Only then would its effectiveness matter.
A faint sound came from the next room.
Meruem vanished from where he stood.
Mitu did not move.
She already understood what had happened.
Komugi was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Or trying to.
One hand on the mattress.
The other gripping the blanket.
Her breathing was faster than a few minutes earlier.
— What are you doing?
Komugi turned her head.
— I'm getting up.
— No.
— But I thought—
Her legs touched the floor.
Her knees gave out.
Meruem caught her before she fell.
She did not even have time to cry out.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Komugi seemed more annoyed than afraid.
— My legs cheated.
Meruem looked at her.
— Your legs don't think.
— Then they're even worse at Gungi than I thought.
Edrin, arriving behind them, turned his face away.
Mitu entered as well.
She did not need to order Meruem to put Komugi back on the bed.
This time, he did it on his own.
The old woman sat beside her and placed her hand on Komugi's wrist.
Her aura changed.
Subtly.
Not like a fighter's.
Death Judge carried something almost uncomfortable to observe. Mitu's aura did not truly envelop Komugi. It seemed to listen to what was inside her.
As if the old woman were pressing her ear against an invisible door.
Komugi closed her eyes.
One minute.
Then two.
Meruem noticed the tension in Mitu's fingers.
He said nothing.
When she finally withdrew her hand, her expression had grown more serious.
— So?
— She must stop traveling.
The sentence fell without warning.
Komugi opened her eyes.
Edrin froze.
Meruem remained perfectly still.
— Repeat that.
Mitu held his gaze.
— Repeated travel, temperature changes, exertion, fluctuations in aura around her… all of it accelerates the crises.
Meruem spoke slowly.
— You said you could stabilize her.
— Temporarily.
— You agreed to take care of her.
— And I am taking care of her.
— Then why—
He stopped.
Mitu had raised a hand.
A small gesture.
Insignificant.
But no one would have interrupted the King like that before.
— Because medicine does not obey your interpretations, Meruem.
Silence.
— When I told you her condition could be stabilized, I never said she could cross the world as if nothing had changed.
She leaned slightly forward.
— If you truly want to save her, stop deciding based on what you are capable of enduring.
Something changed in Meruem's eyes.
Not anger.
Something colder.
More attentive.
Mitu continued.
— You could probably walk for days without sleeping. She cannot.
— We can carry her.
— You can carry her body. Not prevent her Nen from reacting.
Meruem fell silent.
The distinction was brutal.
And accurate.
Komugi turned her head slightly toward him.
— My King.
— Rest.
— I only wanted—
— Rest.
She recognized that tone.
The tone Meruem used when he no longer wanted to hear something because he had already begun to understand it.
Komugi lay back down.
Mitu pulled the blanket over her.
Meruem left the room.
Edrin tried to follow.
The old woman stopped him with a small motion of her chin.
— Let him go.
Meruem stopped outside.
The sun was setting behind the mountains.
The world was vast.
It irritated him.
He had always perceived space as something he could cross.
Now every kilometer became a question.
Every road had a cost.
Every detour could take a day.
Every day belonged to Komugi.
He looked at his hands.
These hands had once been enough.
Perhaps this was the first true humiliation of this new life.
Being able to destroy almost anything in front of him, and discovering it did not necessarily allow him to protect a single person.
— You are thinking too loudly.
Meruem turned his head.
Mitu had come outside.
She leaned against the wall.
For a few seconds, they both looked at the mountains.
— There is a place.
Meruem did not react immediately.
— For what?
— For Komugi.
His gaze settled on the old woman.
— Speak.
Mitu sighed.
— Do you always give orders even when someone is trying to help you?
— Yes.
— At least you are consistent.
She looked toward the horizon.
— Where I was born, the air is more stable. Very little industrial activity. Few Nen users. The land is fertile. The coastal climate is mild.
Meruem thought.
— A city?
— An island.
The wind lifted strands of gray hair around her face.
— Whale Island.
The name immediately resonated in Meruem's memory.
Ging.
His son.
Gon Freecss.
The boy whose Nen had also suffered something ordinary methods could not fix.
The King looked at Mitu with new attention.
— You are from Whale Island.
— Yes.
— You never mentioned it.
— You never asked.
Edrin, from inside, would probably have appreciated the answer.
Meruem did not.
— Do you still have contacts there?
— Better.
She turned toward the house.
— I still have a home.
Meruem said nothing.
Mitu continued:
— Not in the main village. On the other side of the cliffs. A part of the island rarely visited. I used to grow certain plants there before I left.
An isolated house.
Few humans.
Stable climate.
Low Nen presence.
A controllable environment.
Meruem was already assembling the data.
— You can keep her alive there.
Mitu glanced at him.
— I can improve her chances.
He hated that phrasing.
It was, however, more honest than any promise he would have preferred.
— How long to reach the island?
— Choosing routes adapted to Komugi? Several days.
— Too long.
— And choosing yours, she might never arrive.
Meruem looked at the dark line of the mountains.
He thought of Folklore.
The Hunter Exam.
The Protectors.
The Cursed Continent.
All the steps between him and that plant.
Then Komugi, a few meters behind him, unable to stand for five seconds.
His mind produced the answer before his pride could reject it.
He could not take her.
Not all the way.
Perhaps not even far.
Which meant something even more difficult.
He would have to leave without her.
Meruem closed his eyes.
An older version of himself would have asked why that conclusion required so much thought.
A King abandoned thousands daily when going to war.
But Komugi was not a subject.
She had never been a subject.
And that was precisely the problem.
— We will go to Whale Island.
Mitu did not answer.
Meruem opened his eyes.
— You will take her there.
— I intended to accompany you.
— No.
She frowned.
— No?
— We will accompany you to the island.
He looked toward the room.
— We will see that place.
Then his gaze returned to the horizon.
— After that…
He did not finish.
Mitu understood anyway.
After that, Meruem would leave alone.
The old healer studied his profile.
Something had changed since the previous day.
Very little.
Enough for her to notice.
This being had said he would do anything to save Komugi.
At first, Mitu had thought she understood the statement.
She had imagined violence.
Threats.
Sacrifices.
Bodies left behind.
But perhaps the true price was not there.
Perhaps, for Meruem, the hardest thing to sacrifice would never be his life.
It would be the certainty that he must always be the one who remained beside her.
Behind them, a weak voice passed through the door.
— My King?
Meruem turned immediately.
Mitu allowed herself a nearly invisible smile.
Some habits still resisted all decisions in the world.
He entered.
Komugi had opened her eyes again.
— I heard "island."
Meruem sat beside the bed.
— We are going to Whale Island.
— Is it pretty?
He considered saying he did not know.
Then looked at Mitu.
The old woman remained near the door.
— Very.
Komugi smiled.
— Then I'm fine with it.
Meruem stared at her.
— You accept without knowing the place?
— You'll check before leaving me there, right?
He did not answer.
Komugi smiled more.
— I know you.
A short pause.
— Maybe better than you know yourself.
Meruem looked away slightly.
The room fell silent again.
And as Komugi slowly closed her eyes, a new idea settled in the King's mind.
He had thought his decision in the previous chapter was simple.
To go find Folklore.
He now understood his mistake.
The true decision was not to leave.
The true decision would be, when the time came…
to leave Komugi behind.
On an island he had never seen.
In the hands of an old human woman.
While he advanced toward a continent from which almost no one had returned.
Meruem looked at Komugi sleeping.
To save a single person, he would have to learn something kings rarely learned.
Trust.