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Finally.
The capital pulses with a life it hasn't known in months.
Vendors shouting from every direction. Weapons. Fruit. Animals. Meat. Grain. Merchandise without end.
Lights dancing across faces. Music cutting through the cold air. People laughing as if the war never happened.
Or perhaps — because it did.
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In a quiet room far from the noise.
Mabu sits. He looks at the wall.
Inside his head: the graves. So many. Rows that don't end on the other side of the Wall. Names he doesn't know on headstones he never read.
A knock at the door.
He stands. He opens it.
Karki. Yuzuha. Totoki.
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Karki is wearing a mocking ceremonial hat. He blows a small horn with complete pride.
He drops to one knee and extends his hand toward Mabu:
"Will you come to the festival with me, Mabu?"
Yuzuha bursts out laughing behind him.
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"Hahaha—"
She spits blood suddenly.
"Ow… I still haven't fully recovered."
Mabu smiles. He takes Karki's hand and rises.
He turns toward Totoki — standing quietly, messing with his own hair with his fingers while looking at Mabu with a sideways smile.
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Totoki steps back: "Damn you. I spent two hours on that."
Mabu laughs.
That same morning, somewhere else entirely.
The commander of the First Assassination Squad stands before his numbers in a line.
"Numbers One and Two: remain in the palace. You don't move."
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"Numbers Three and Four: on the capital's walls. Eyes open at all times."
He pauses.
"Numbers Five, Six, and Seven: circulate through the festival. Don't draw attention. You have the wanted list with you. If you see any of them — don't act alone. Report to Linsan immediately. You'll find him at the palace door."
"Understood, sir."
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Night descends on the capital.
The festival lights illuminate every corner. People fill the alleys.
The old man sits in one of the side cafes. In front of him — a cup of tea, steam rising slowly.
His hands on the table. His face calm.
The noise around him doesn't reach him. He's somewhere else entirely — in a quiet no one shares with him.
Meanwhile, Mabu and the group move between the stalls.
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The bottle-knocking stall.
Mabu picks up a ball. He focuses. He throws.
A few bottles fall.
He throws again. They all fall.
The vendor reaches out and catches the remaining bottles before they drop. He looks away as if nothing happened.
Mabu looks at him: "Why did you catch them?"
"I didn't catch anything."
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Again.
Mabu picks up another ball.
He throws with full strength.
Half the bottles fly. He throws a second time. The rest fall.
The vendor moves quickly again — but he can't manage it this time.
Mabu holds out his arms and flexes in front of the vendor with a completely serious expression.
Yuzuha takes the first stuffed bear. Then the second. Then the third.
Ten bears. She can't carry them all. Mabu dances in delight.
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The vendor's face turns red. He erupts shouting.
Mabu answers with the same energy. His eyes go wide as he shouts back, mimicking the vendor exactly.
Yuzuha grabs him by his shirt and slowly pulls him backward.
Mabu holds his stuffed bears and walks away, still grumbling.
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Another game. Totoki wins.
Mabu stops and puts his hands on his hips in genuine outrage.
Thian grabs Mabu's stuffed bear and bolts.
Mabu chases him through the middle of the crowd. People watch in bewilderment.
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Above one of the rooftops.
Number Five moves through the area, scanning everything with his eyes.
He stops suddenly.
In the alley below — a person walking with a wooden sword across his back. Early twenties. Tall. Moving with a group.
Number Five opens the wanted list slowly. He compares.
Wooden sword. Tall. Early twenties.
His hand tightens on the list.
Him.
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He spots Number Six on the adjacent rooftop.
He moves to him quietly.
"Look. I found one of the wanted."
"Which one?"
"The one with the wooden sword. Western alley."
Number Six nods: "I'll go inform the Deputy. You stay here and watch him."
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The palace door.
Number Six enters. He finds Linsan standing.
"Report, sir. We've found one of the medium-priority wanted. The wooden sword carrier. Western end. Number Five is tracking him now."
Linsan nods: "Continue surveillance. Don't move until he reaches his residence. Then the Second Squad closes in."
"Understood."
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Number Six leaves.
Linsan remains standing. He thinks.
I don't think I'll send anyone this time.
He moves — alone — toward the western end.
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Number Five, above the rooftop. He hears footsteps behind him.
He turns. Linsan.
"Where is he now?"
"In a house in one of the nearby villages, sir."
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Linsan stops.
"A nearby village?"
"Yes, sir."
Linsan looks toward the door again. Something moves in his eyes that hasn't moved in a very long time.
"Can you take me there?"
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Number Five hesitates: "I… yes, sir."
"Now. Just you and me."
They descend from the rooftop in complete silence.
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The road between the capital and the village.
Linsan walks with steady steps. Number Five walks beside him and points.
"That house. In the corner."
Linsan stops.
He looks at the small house in the darkness.
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Mabu stands at the door of the house. He turns to Thian.
"Did you see how I punched that button?"
Thian laughs: "That moment was incredibly funny."
Mabu opens the door. They enter. The door closes behind them.
Linsan above the rooftop. He watches the door — eyes narrowing.
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Linsan moves slowly. He stands in front of the window.
He looks in from the corner — unseen.
Inside the house, Mabu sits with Thian — voices, food, warmth.
Then — a shadow moves. Thian's.
Then the old man's.
Linsan freezes.
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He takes one step back.
He looks at the house again.
The old man passes in front of the window — calm. His face in the firelight. The same face. The same stillness.
Linsan's hand moves slowly to his sword handle.
Then he lets it go.
He turns:
"Stay here. Don't move. Watch the house closely."
Number Five nods and disappears — across the rooftops.
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Linsan remains standing alone in the darkness.
He looks at the house one final time.
Something moves inside him that hasn't moved in many long years.
He turns.
He walks toward the capital. His steps faster than usual.
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King Bumer's palace. Midnight.
The door to the chamber opens slowly.
Bumer sits alone at his desk. He looks at papers in front of him.
He raises his head.
Linsan stands at the door. His face carries no clear expression.
But his eyes carry something Bumer has never seen in them before.
"Linsan? At this hour?"
Linsan takes one step forward.
Bumer freezes.
He raises his head slowly.
He looks at Linsan.
He stands.
"What did you say?"
Continued in Chapter Twenty-Two