The world beyond the mountain was loud.
Too loud.
Carts rattled. Merchants shouted. People walked slowly—painfully slowly. The boy weaved through them like water through stones, instinctively adjusting his steps to avoid collisions.
Someone noticed.
"Fast," a voice said.
The boy stopped.
He turned.
The man standing there wore clean robes, expensive but not flashy. His smile was wide, practiced, and just a little too eager. His eyes, however, didn't smile at all.
They measured.
"You came from the mountains," the man continued. "Not many people do that on foot."
The boy said nothing.
The man chuckled. "Smart. Quiet types live longer."
He stepped closer. "Name?"
The boy took half a step back.
The man raised both hands. "Relax. Just a trader. I buy, sell, move information. Harmless."
The boy didn't believe him.
Good instinct.
They sat at a roadside stall.
The trader ordered food without asking and paid before the boy could react.
"Investment," the man said cheerfully. "Talented people are rare."
The boy ate cautiously.
The trader watched his legs.
Not his face.
Not his hands.
His legs.
"How fast can you run?" the trader asked casually.
The boy stopped chewing.
"…Why?"
"Curiosity," the trader replied. "Speed sells."
That word stuck.
Sells.
When they parted, the trader clasped the boy's wrist warmly.
"Travel's dangerous," he said. "Take this. A charm."
Before the boy could refuse, the trader tied a thin band around his wrist—light, almost unnoticeable.
"Good luck," the trader smiled. "We'll meet again."
The boy walked away.
After three steps, he was already uneasy.
That night, he ran.
Not training.
Instinct.
Fast. Far. Hard.
Yet no matter where he stopped… that uneasy feeling stayed.
Somewhere, far behind him, a trader counted coins.
"…Found you," he whispered.
End of Chapter 6