There were many eyes in the dawn market.

Merchants moved busily, restaurants prepared for the morning rush, and laborers carried goods. Seti and Dung Beetle navigated the market, taking a circuitous route to avoid unwanted attention as they made their way to Jang-man’s bar.

By the time they arrived, the morning sun had almost fully risen.

“You’re late.”

A stranger stood at the entrance of the bar.

The man, with short hair, wore a perfectly pressed vintage military uniform and carried a handgun on his hip. He looked every bit the soldier.

“Do you know how late you are? Not by an hour but by a day. A whole day! Do you have no concept of time?”

It seemed he and Seti were already acquainted, as he shot her a menacing glare.

It was a blatant threat. Dung Beetle’s hand instinctively went to the dagger hidden in his coat, but Seti stopped him. Her voice was low and steady, and she didn’t even blink as she replied.

“So what?”

“…What?”

“Did I tell you to wait? You decided to come and wait on your own.”

Her voice was utterly cold, a stark contrast to the tone she used with Dung Beetle.

“If you don’t like it, draw your gun.”

“…”

“Nothing to say? Then step aside.”

The man glared at Seti and Dung Beetle, his gaze sharp as a knife. After a tense moment, he clicked his tongue and grudgingly stepped away from the door.

“…This had better be worth my wasted time.”

“That’s for Grandma to decide.”

Ignoring the man’s parting remark, they entered the bar.

Inside, the bar looked much the same as when Dung Beetle had left it. The floor was still dented, the ceiling still broken. At least there were a few chairs and a table left.

“You’re here?”

At the table, Jang-man was drinking with a thin old white man. Upon closer inspection, Dung Beetle noticed that the man wasn’t sitting on a regular chair…

A wheelchair?

Dung Beetle narrowed his eyes slightly. The wheelchair’s wheels were pristine, not a speck of dust on them.

As he lifted his head, he found himself face-to-face with the old man in the wheelchair.

The man had a face covered in liver spots, protruding cheekbones, and a long hooked nose. He looked like a witch from a fairy tale.

“Seti, is this the one you mentioned?”

“Yes, this is him. What do you think, Grandma?”

“…Interesting. His mana is as refined as an elf’s.”

His gaze, cold as a snake’s, swept over Dung Beetle’s entire body.

“How can a human possess such control? It’s strange indeed. I would’ve regretted not seeing this with my own eyes.”

The old man said this as he pulled some papers and a pair of glasses from the side of his wheelchair.

“Don’t just stand there. Come, have a seat.”

Without hesitation, Dung Beetle pulled a chair over and sat at the table. Seti stood behind him.

“Shall we start with business?”

“Yes, let’s.”

“Alright, first…”

The old man, now wearing glasses, opened up the papers and spoke.

“What do you plan to use as your new name? Have you thought of an alias?”

Dung Beetle glanced at Seti briefly, then returned his gaze to the old man.

“Yeomyeong. If I’m to assume a new identity, I’ll go by the name Yeomyeong.”

“…Yeomyeong? Not a bad name. What about your family name?”

This time, the answer came from Dung Beetle’s side.

“Cheon. His family name should be Cheon. Cheon Yeomyeong. It has a nice ring to it.”

All eyes turned to Jang-man, who was sipping his drink.

A brief silence followed as the old man gave Dung Beetle a questioning look, asking if he agreed with the choice.

Dung Beetle nodded without a word. He had to. After all, Cheon was the family name of none other than… his former crew leader.

“Cheon Yeomyeong, not bad. I’m no fortune teller, but I’d say it’s a vast improvement over Dung Beetle.”

“…”

…Is it that bad?

Dung Beetle considered arguing but remembered that everyone he’d recently met had reacted similarly to his name. So he kept his mouth shut.

“Shall we move on? Yeomyeong, what do you plan to do with this new identity?”

“Do I have to tell you that?”

“Of course. I’ll be your guarantor.”

A guarantor? At this, Dung Beetle shot Seti a confused glance.

But Seti looked just as bewildered as he did.

“Grandma? What are you talking about?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’ll vouch for him. That way, the government won’t dare investigate.”

“Hold on. That’s…!”

“Seti.”

The air between them grew icy. The old man raised his gaze, locking eyes with Seti.

“Where did you plan to send him? The Academy? The Special Affairs Bureau? Neither, I’d wager.”

“…”

“You were likely thinking of having him be a mercenary or a hunter, weren’t you? Am I wrong?”

Seti’s face twisted noticeably. He must’ve struck a nerve.

“…So what?”

“I’m saying it’s pathetic. Just pathetic.”

“And what do you know about my plan?”

“There’s nothing to know. It’s bound to be clumsy and dangerous.”

With those words, an uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Jang-man, unable to withstand the tension, grabbed his drink and left the table in a hurry.

Left awkwardly between the two, Dung Beetle—or rather, Yeomyeong—slid his chair back. Putting some distance between himself and the table, he looked at both of them.

“May I ask what exactly the two of you are discussing?”

“Nothing important. Grandma here is just meddling.”

“Meddling?”

“Grandma’s an extraordinary person. If she vouches for you, certain governments would practically beg to have you.”

“Which means…”

“She wants you to join her fold. What else?”

The old man remained silent, listening to Seti’s words without interruption.

Only when she had finished did he speak, slowly and calmly.

“Yeomyeong. I don’t know what she’s promised you, but I advise you not to follow her.”

“…”

“It’s a sincere warning. Walk the righteous path. Following her will only waste your talent.”

It was a confident declaration. Seti stared incredulously at the old man, and Yeomyeong, who was observing it all, recalled Seti’s past.

“…Are you two really related?”

“Blood is shared between us. That’s why I don’t mind her calling me Grandma.”

There was a profound contempt in the old man’s voice, despite the supposed familial connection.

“...Blood is shared.”

He recalled Seti’s evaluation of her parents: Dad was a junkie, Mom was a whore. The words “blood is shared” carried a different weight now.

When he fell silent, the old man spoke up again.

“Yeomyeong. Do you know that she’s just a puppet created by the Korean government?”

“…A puppet?”

“Grandma!”

Seti shouted, but the old man ignored her, smiling slyly.

“Born in a lab without love, she’s nothing more than a piece of meat. Bound by a golden cage, she’s just a puppet.”

“…”

“Why entrust your future to her? Your youth and talent would be wasted.”

The old man extended a hand to Yeomyeong. Her hand emanated mana similar to that of Pahyanggyul, as if there were a kindred connection.

“Take my hand. I’ll lead you down the right path.”

Yeomyeong stared at the old man’s hand, then glanced at Seti, who was trembling. After confirming her face, he looked back at the old man’s hand.

“May I know your name?”

“People call me Sili.”

“…Sili.”

Yeomyeong took a moment, then grasped Sili’s hand.

“I knew you’d make the right cho—”

The next instant, he drew the dagger from his coat and swung it.

His intention had been to sever her throat, but he ended up making a long cut across it instead, unfamiliar with wielding the weapon in his left hand.

It was a fake.

Blue powder, not blood, seeped from the wound. It was mana in powdered form.

“…Didn’t you say you had no knowledge of magic?”

Seti blinked at the dissolving image of Sili.

“I don’t.”

“Then how did you know it was an illusion?”

Yeomyeong considered his answer as he looked at her.

The uneasiness he had felt since talking to the soldier at the entrance.

The pristine wheels on the wheelchair.

And, most of all, the odd sensation of mana emanating from the body… Instead of explaining all of this, he summed it up in one word.

“Instinct.”

At that moment, the bar door slammed open, and the soldier from earlier stormed in.

“Instinct? Instinct? You figured out my magic with instinct?”

The soldier’s expression mirrored Seti’s as he stared at Yeomyeong.

He marched over to Yeomyeong, grabbing his wrist.

He then attempted to inject mana into Yeomyeong’s wrist, but the superhuman’s body repelled the external mana, rejecting it entirely.

A feat only possible for those with superhuman bodies. The soldier’s face contorted.

“…You’re really not a mage?”

“…”

“Sis, what is this guy? Is he another case like us?”

“...Sis?”

As soon as Yeomyeong echoed the word, the soldier’s body began to dissolve.