Three days had passed since leaving Haruno Village. The moment Mira Narasa crossed through Trevia's city gates, she found herself stopping involuntarily. The smell was different. Not the sweetness of mountain medicinal herbs, but the dust of stone, the oil of fried foods, and the heat of thousands of people mingled together assaulted her nose. Market stalls lined the stone-paved streets as far as the eye could see, flags swayed in the wind, and martial artists walked about in groups here and there. Some wore training gi, others wore armor, still others wore foreign-style garments. The Trevia Martial Arts Festival—the continent's largest martial arts tournament—was on the eve of its opening. Seraphina Lawin walked ahead. Her deep crimson curled hair stood out even in the crowd. The thirty-two members of the mercenary company had already been sent to the garrison, leaving only three of them here. The Trevia Martial Arts Arena—a stone-built circular amphitheater with a capacity of eight thousand—had its administrative building adjacent to the north side of the arena, a dimly lit stone structure. Several martial artists were lined up at the registration window, and Amagi Retsu joined the end of the queue. Mira stood slightly behind Retsu, watching the exchange at the window. His back remained unchanged. His spine was perfectly straight, his shoulders free of unnecessary tension. That day on the cliff path, the arm that had grasped her wrist remained in her memory with that same weight. It was Retsu's turn. The registrar was a middle-aged man who spread documents across his desk and opened his mouth in a routine manner. "Your school name and affiliated dojo," "Spiral God Life-Death Fist. No dojo. Single-line succession," "Your certification," "I don't have one," The registrar's hand stopped. "...The Spiral God Life-Death Fist," the man flipped through the documents and pulled out a separate file, "was officially classified as discontinued during the Great Chaos—the inter-school war from approximately two hundred years ago. Since no certifying body exists, I cannot recognize your eligibility to compete," Retsu remained silent. He did not argue. It was the truth. The Spiral God Life-Death Fist had suffered devastating losses during the Great Chaos, and since then had continued only through single-line succession. There was no organization anywhere that could issue a certification. Footsteps approached from behind. Seraphina stood beside the registration window and produced a small metal badge. The Iron Ring Mercenary Company's silver insignia—indicating the third-highest rank by trust and achievement. She placed it quietly on the registrar's desk. "Iron Ring Mercenary Company Captain, Seraphina Lawin. I am applying for provisional registration of this man as a martial artist belonging to our company," The registrar looked at the badge and straightened his posture slightly. The silver insignia's credibility was genuine. "...Provisional registration, accepted," The procedures completed, the three of them exited the administrative building. Seraphina walked beside Retsu, lowering her voice. Her golden eyes glanced at him sideways. "[cold]Now you can compete. You are currently under my protection—understood?" Her voice was calm. But beneath those words lay calculation. Retsu silently accepted that weight. A few steps behind, Mira witnessed the entire exchange. The moment Seraphina produced the silver badge, the registrar's attitude changed. With that speed, with that certainty. That woman had intended to do this from the start. She had calculated from the beginning that she would create a debt for Retsu. Mira gripped the cord of her leather bag a little tighter. There was a dull sensation in her chest. Not quite pain. But something was definitely lodged there. ◆ The next morning, the first day of the martial arts festival began. Just before Retsu lined up to compete, he placed his hand on the front of his gi. Then he removed his upper body, peeling the white cloth from his arms and tying it around his shoulders. It was the law of the Spiral God Life-Death Fist. By exposing bare skin to the open air, one draws ki from the entire body, dramatically increasing power and sensation. But it also meant exposing a physique built solely through training before eight thousand spectators. A massive roar echoed from the depths of the passage. The moment Retsu stepped into the arena, the crowd fell silent for an instant. It lasted only a second, but it was unmistakable. A martial artist with his upper body bare had appeared—that alone concentrated the gaze of eight thousand spectators at a single point. The next moment, they erupted. Jeers, exclamations of surprise, and laughter mixed together, becoming a massive wave of sound that reverberated through the stone amphitheater. From the premium seats, Seraphina watched. Her golden eyes tracked Retsu standing in the arena. The spectators' voices, the surrounding heat—none of it mattered. Only that man was visible to her. The flawless contours standing in the light. From the general seating, Mira also watched. The match was one-sided. Retsu's strikes, wrapped in spiraling ki, shattered his opponent's defense, and he defeated three consecutive opponents. His movements were without waste, his emotions invisible. He simply delivered the necessary strikes to the necessary places with the necessary force. As Mira watched, she felt something strange. Retsu's body, now that his gi was removed, was exposed to the eyes of many. Those shoulder lines, that arm density—Seraphina saw them too. From the premium seats, with eyes that missed nothing. Every spectator saw the same thing. That was when something in Mira's chest became clear for the first time. It was not some grand emotion of wanting to monopolize him. It was simply—when she walked the cliff path with that person, the sensation of that arm grasping her wrist was something only she knew. That fact, she realized, mattered to her a little. The match ended. Retsu returned to the passage. Mira shifted her gaze to the premium seats. Seraphina was there. Looking only at Retsu. What floated in those golden eyes, Mira felt she could now name. ◆ That night, footsteps echoed in the inn's corridor. It was Seraphina. She stood before the room assigned to Retsu in the White Wall Inn—a mid-class inn popular with traveling martial artists. "[serious]I'd like to check your wounds. You had some scrapes during the preliminaries, didn't you?" There was no reason to refuse. Retsu let her in. Seraphina opened a small bottle of medicine she had brought and gestured for him to sit in a chair. As Retsu sat, she knelt and began applying the medicine to the scrapes on his arm. The room was quiet. The lamp's flame flickered. Seraphina's fingers moved as if confirming the edges of the wound. Then, for a moment, they stopped. Her fingertips paused slightly on the muscle of his arm. Her breathing became quietly shallow. The next moment, Seraphina grasped Retsu's arm and tried to pull it toward herself. Retsu's hand quietly removed her grasp. He stood and took a step back, creating distance. "[serious]I'm grateful for your help. But let there be no misunderstanding," That was all he said. Something flashed across Seraphina's golden eyes. A color that could be read as anger or humiliation. But quickly, her smooth expression returned. Her lips resumed their smile shape. "[cold]...Of course. I apologize for the rudeness," Her voice was cool. Unruffled. But beneath that voice dwelt a cold will—not one that had retreated, but one that had merely changed its objective. Retsu heard it. After the door closed, Seraphina was alone. She spent a long time toying with a cup on the table. The lamp's light illuminated her deep crimson hair. This man is beautiful precisely because he keeps his distance from me. Then I simply need to create a situation where he cannot escape. ◆ The next morning, the knock on the door came early. It was an emissary from the organizing committee. A young man stood with documents in hand, reading without meeting Retsu's eyes. "The Spiral God Life-Death Fist is classified as a discontinued school in official records following the Great Chaos. Since formal objections have been submitted by multiple prominent schools, your provisional registration is hereby revoked," Retsu went directly to the organizing committee. Three committee members sat in a stone conference room. When Retsu began his protest, they hid behind documents. "It's regulation." "It's a procedural matter." "A school without a certifying body..." Words piled upon words, and the eyes listening to them were hollow. The door opened. Seraphina entered. Her deep crimson hair swayed. Upon entering, she met the gaze of one of the committee members. They exchanged a nod of acknowledgment. That alone told Retsu everything. This woman had moved during the night. She had made contact with representatives of prominent schools and guided them to submit objections. The committee members' attitude was proof that the matter had been arranged. Seraphina stood beside Retsu and spoke quietly. "[cold]If I formally enlist you as an exclusive martial artist in the Iron Ring Mercenary Company, your registration can be reapplied. However, you would need to remain with the company even after the festival," The committee members kept their eyes on their documents. Their faces showed they had known this outcome from the beginning. Retsu looked around the room once. The committee members' expressions, Seraphina's smile, the position of the door. Everything was a calculated arrangement. Isolate him, create a situation where only she could save him, take away his registration, eliminate his escape routes, and leave only one hand extended. It was a quiet trap. "[serious]I am no one's possession," He said it curtly. Seraphina's expression warped for the first time. Her smile peeled away, and what lay beneath showed itself for just a moment. "[angry]...Fine. Do as you please," She spat the words and turned on her heel. The door closed. From her departing back, the heat of anger seeped into the corridor. ◆ Retsu exited through the staff entrance of the arena. The moment he stepped onto the stone-paved street, a voice called from the crowd. "[scared]Amagi! Amagi!" Mira came running. Her pale water-colored hair swayed, and her medicinal herb leather bag bounced at her shoulder. She must have heard the news, her breath coming in gasps. A dozen meters ahead, two men stepped forward. Deep gray equipment—Iron Ring Mercenary Company soldiers. "Captain's orders. You're not to approach that man," Mira stopped. "[serious]Please step aside," Her voice did not shake. But it did not carry. One of the soldiers, without a word, pushed Mira's shoulder. Mira's body tilted. She fell to her knees on the stone pavement. Something ran through Retsu's body. Heat. His feet wanted to move. His fists clenched involuntarily. But another voice sounded in his mind. —The Law of Martial Courtesy. A customary law established after the Great Chaos. Private duels between martial artists are prohibited in principle. If a settlement must be reached, it must occur in an official venue or under the supervision of a third party. Violators are permanently expelled from all schools and permanently lose their martial artist privileges. Retsu's feet stopped. A dozen meters. The soldiers' backs. Mira on her knees. Mira looked up. Her hand still on the stone pavement, she looked at him. In her eyes, there was no fear. She was not crying. There was only a clear light of concern for him. Retsu could not move. He had walked the continent as a martial artist of the Spiral God Life-Death Fist. He had never retreated from any opponent. But in this moment, before Mira kneeling a dozen meters away, he could do nothing. A