The late afternoon breeze danced softly across the courtyard of the pavilion, swaying the surface of the pond in shimmering ripples. But the tranquility shattered like thin ice at the sound of a sharp voice.

  Gugum, Jaka, and Lila turned instinctively toward the sound.

  Two young men strode purposefully down the stone path. Gugum immediately recognized one of them - Sagara. The arrogant youth from yesterday. His presence hadn't changed; it was still wrapped in the same air of pride and disdain. Beside him walked another figure: tall, dignified, his long hair tied neatly, his robes flowing like silk under the dying sunlight. There was a subtle authority in his steps, an aura that made it clear, he was no ordinary disciple.

  Sagara approached without hesitation, not even offering a glance of courtesy."What are Second-Class disciples doing here? Leave. You're staining this place with your presence," he snapped, eyes flicking toward Jaka and Lila like a blade.

  Jaka's jaw clenched. Lila held tightly to his sleeve. They froze, tension coiling in their limbs.

  But before either could speak, Gugum stepped forward.

  "I invited them," he said, his voice steady as stone. "They're here with me. The real question is, why are you here?"

  Sagara's gaze locked onto his, and in that moment, something invisible cracked in the air between them. As if two forces had just begun to stir against each other.

  The man beside Sagara halted a step behind, watching with quiet interest—like a calm sea hiding its tides.

  "Sagara," the man called his name gently, but his voice held weight. He then turned to Gugum, his eyes assessing him with a calm yet penetrating focus.

  "Hmph." Sagara snorted, giving Gugum one last cold glare before stepping back, standing behind the other man like a shadow returning to its source.

  "My apologies for my junior's rudeness," the man said. His tone was respectful, yet carried the poise of someone used to command. "He's... strong-willed."

  Gugum's attention shifted to him fully now.

  "I am Tirtalaga," he said, bowing slightly. "A core disciple of this sect."

  "Gugum," the reply was brief, his nod just as measured.

  Their eyes met. Tirtalaga smiled gently, but something behind that smile made Gugum's instincts murmur with unease. It was the kind of smile that never touched the soul. Calm on the outside. But what hid beneath?

  Jaka suddenly stepped up beside them. "We've just remembered an unfinished task, sir. We'll take our leave." Lila followed, offering only a silent nod. The two disappeared quickly down the path, as though fleeing from something more than just discomfort.

  Tirtalaga didn't spare them even a glance. To him, it was as though they had never existed. Sagara watched them go with a sneer of disdain.

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  "I heard the Sect Leader himself personally introduced you as a new disciple," Tirtalaga said smoothly. "That is... exceedingly rare. Naturally, I became curious."

  Gugum gave a polite nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

  He kept his tone even, though he couldn't help but notice Sagara's mocking grin from behind.

  Tirtalaga's smile didn't falter. "I won't intrude further on your rest. We'll surely meet again."

  He turned and walked away.

  Gugum watched as the two disappeared down the path. Just before they vanished completely, Sagara turned his head and made a gesture with his fingers, clear and sharp: This isn't over.

  Gugum said nothing. He looked away and returned his gaze to the koi-filled pond beside the pavilion.

  "…So it won't be peaceful after all," he muttered.

  He turned to the still-locked pavilion door. "When can I even rest?" he sighed.

  The sun began to dip below the tree line, casting the courtyard in a golden-orange hue. The pond glistened, and the trees whispered under the wind. Gugum sat by the water's edge, his eyes far away.

  "Mother... I came here because of you. I only hope... this was the right path."

  His memories drifted back to the quiet of Wind's Silence Valley. Her voice, her lessons, the sharpness of her discipline softened by her presence. Life had been difficult, yes, but clearer than this tangled web of unknowns.

  He let out a long breath.

  Unbeknownst to him, a presence approached. Silent. Unannounced.

  Saras stood behind him.

  She didn't speak. Just watched. Observed the young man who, without realizing, had disturbed the stillness of her world.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly.Why?

  Why is it that when I see him… I don't feel like myself?

  Eventually, she stepped forward.

  "Ahem," she cleared her throat lightly. "I forgot to give you the room key."

  Gugum jumped, startled. He turned around quickly, his heart skipping a beat.

  How didn't I notice her?

  "I—I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come," he said stiffly.

  She didn't reply. Only held out her hand.

  Gugum blinked. Still flustered, he instinctively reached out—and grasped her hand.

  Silence.

  Saras froze.

  So did he.

  Then, he saw it.

  The key.

  Realization hit him like a crashing wave."I... I misunderstood," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. "I thought…"

  Saras didn't speak.

  Her expression faltered. That cold, unreachable air she always carried... cracked.

  It was the first time a man had touched her like that outside of combat or instruction.And strangely... she wasn't angry.

  She dropped the key. It landed gently by his feet.

  Gugum looked up, afraid she was furious.

  But Saras didn't yell. Didn't scold.She simply turned—and walked away.

  "Nona! Forgive me. I didn't mean to..."

  She didn't stop.

  Her steps quickened, not from anger, but to escape. Escape from being seen... like this.

  Gugum stood in stunned silence. He finally bent down and picked up the key.

  "If this were the Lodra Forest," he muttered, "I'd have died a hundred times for being this careless."

  He unlocked the door. The moment he stepped in, his breath caught.

  The interior was vast and meticulously arranged. Wooden furnishings, golden-threaded curtains, and a stillness that exuded sacred calm. Everything radiated refined simplicity. This was no ordinary guestroom.

  He stepped past the front room and into the chamber behind the veil.

  A large bed., and there, in the corner, was an entrance unlike any other, its boundary swaying gently, as though formed by liquid glass. He couldn't see inside.

  After setting his things down, he bathed, changed clothes, and rubbed a faint, woodsy fragrance onto his wrists, the one he'd bought at the village down the mountain.

  As the scent rose softly in the air, he remembered a voice.

  "You stink."

  He smiled faintly. "Not this time... I hope."

  Then his eyes returned to the strange watery veil.

  He reached out.

  Coolness greeted him. Not just to the skin, but to the spirit.

  Driven by curiosity, he stepped through.

  Inside, the room was small. Empty. But the air… it pulsed with calm, pure essence.

  "Looks like a place... to meditate," he whispered.

  He turned to leave.

  And paused.

  Something at his waist was trembling.

  He touched his belt, and found the hidden bundle. Wrapped deep within…

  The Ancient Scrolls of Wind and Earth.

  For the first time...

  They stirred.