The Chief took a step back, then another, as exhaustion finally caught up with embarrassment. His breathing was shallow, chest rising unevenly as the strain of lost vitality reminded him that pride alone could not hold a body upright forever.

"I… cannot," he said at last, voice low but steady with effort.

"I already have a wife. And a son."

The merchant woman blinked once. Then again.

And then she laughed.

"HAHAHAHA–!"

The sound rang loudly through the market street, sharp and unrestrained, drawing curious glances from nearby stalls and passing pedestrians who slowed their steps without daring to come closer.

"So?" she said, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing away dust. "What does that have to do with me?"

The Chief froze.

"…What?"

"I asked whether you'd marry me," she continued bluntly, eyes unwavering. "Not whether your life is clean."

Mu Long's jaw dropped.

Diala stiffened where she stood. "Shameless…" she muttered under her breath.

Even Kiaria raised an eyebrow, though his expression otherwise remained unreadable.

The merchant woman stepped closer, circling the Chief openly, her gaze sharp and unapologetic as it swept over him. "You were an old man five breaths ago," she said, poking his chest without hesitation. "Now look at you."

She leaned back slightly, appraising him from head to toe. "Straight spine. Clear eyes. Strong pulse."

She nodded to herself. "Handsome enough."

Then she added casually, as if discussing the weather, "If I didn't help you, you wouldn't see the next day."

The Chief's ears flushed red.

"My wife is alive," he said again, firmer this time. "She disappeared. I'm still searching for her."

"Good," the woman replied without pause.

The word struck harder than insult.

"…Good?"

"If she were dead, you'd hesitate," she said matter-of-factly. "This way, you're just unavailable–not unwilling."

Mu Long choked.

"W–What kind of logic is that?!"

"Experienced logic," she shot back. "I have a son too. You don't see me crying over empty beds."

She jabbed a thumb toward the baskets beside her. "Life here doesn't wait for loyalty to come home."

The Chief tried to speak, but no words came.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice slightly. "Besides," she added, "you didn't reject me."

"I–!"

"You sighed and turned away," she cut in smoothly. "Men who truly reject don't hesitate."

The Chief stood stunned, her words tangling around him like a net.

Kiaria, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke. "You're very direct."

She glanced at him briefly. "Indirect men die faster."

Then she turned back to the Chief and grabbed his wrist again, this time firmly.

"Marry me," she said, slower now, each word deliberate. "Stay here. I'll help you leave later if you want." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "But while you're here, you're mine."

The Chief felt the air around him thin, as though even breathing had been claimed.

"I don't even know your name," he said, grasping at the only opening he could find.

She grinned. "Then you'll learn it after agreeing."

Mu Long leaned toward Kiaria and whispered, "…Patron, is this still a treasure hunt?"

Kiaria replied calmly, "No. This is a social trap."

The merchant woman heard him and smiled wider. "Smart one," she said. "You understand this place."

She turned back to the Chief once more. "So?" she asked lightly. "Marry me now. I can give you anything you want–anything."

She paused.

"…Or do you want to see how persistent I can be?"

The Chief swallowed. This island… is far more dangerous than I thought.

Her gaze drifted, casual and unhurried, before settling on Diala. A slow smile crept onto her lips.

"Well," she said, as if discussing produce prices, "if you don't want to marry me–then betroth that little girl to my son."

The air did not freeze.

It died.

Mu Long's breath caught mid-inhale.

The Chief spun around. "W–What did you just say?!"

The merchant woman shrugged. "Marriage is marriage. Bloodlines matter." She glanced at Diala again. "She's clean. Strong. Pretty enough."

That was all.

That was enough.

Kiaria moved.

There was no rush of wind. No distortion of space. No warning ripple of power. One blink of the merchant woman's eyes–and he stood beside Diala.

The next moment, he was there.

So close that she could sense him without feeling anything at all. No breath. No chill. No killing intent.

Just presence.

He did not raise his hand. Did not grab her. Did not speak.

He only looked at her.

A stare without anger. Without threat. Without emotion. His face held no tension, no curiosity, no judgment.

His eyelids did not blink.

Time stretched unnaturally.

The sounds of the market faded, swallowed by a silence deeper than absence. The merchant woman's confident smile stiffened, facial muscles locking as her throat tightened painfully.

Something was wrong.

Not pressure.

Not suppression.

This felt like standing before something that had not yet decided whether her existence required acknowledgment.

Her heartbeat spiked violently. Cold sweat traced her spine. Her knees weakened, instinct screaming warnings her mind could not translate.

She tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Only then did Kiaria lean forward slightly, not to dominate, not to intimidate–only to be closer.

"Do not place your words on her," he said.

Low. Flat. Emotionless.

The merchant woman staggered backward, crashing into her stall as baskets rattled and golden beads spilled across the ground. She raised her hands instinctively, voice breaking.

"I–I was joking! I didn't mean–!"

Kiaria did not answer. He turned and walked back.

The moment his back faced her, her legs gave out. She collapsed, gasping, clutching her chest as if she had narrowly escaped drowning.

Mu Long swallowed hard. "…That wasn't murderous intent."

Diala stood frozen, fingers clenched into her sleeves.

"Mother!" the boy cried, rushing to her side. With trembling hands, he retrieved a Golden Berry Bead and pricked her finger. After several failed attempts, a single drop of blood finally fell.

The bead drank.

Vitality surged back into her body as color returned to her face. She leaned back against the stall, breathing steadily once more.

The market noise crept back hesitantly.

Kiaria had already moved to the front of the group. The Chief stepped back instinctively, no longer leading. Mu Long followed. The formation settled naturally.

Diala stood behind Kiaria's left shoulder. Princess Lainsa stood on his right.

Kiaria looked at the merchant woman at last.

"Now," he said calmly. "Get into the business."

He continued evenly, "Tell us about this place. And the Golden Berry Bead."

The merchant woman nodded slowly, eyes lowered. "Yes," she said hoarsely. "I will."

Kiaria did not repeat himself.

He did not need to.

"Then start with these beads," he said at last, voice steady and unraised.

There was no threat layered beneath the words. No urgency. No impatience. And yet, the sentence struck the merchant woman like cold steel pressed against her spine–an order that denied even the privilege of hesitation.

"Everything," he continued evenly, gaze fixed upon her without wavering, "from their origin. Spill it out."

Her body reacted before her thoughts could organize resistance. She straightened abruptly, shoulders stiffening, breath hitching once before words poured out in an uneven rush, syllables colliding as though she feared silence more than speech.

"They are condensed Yang Qi," she said quickly. "Formed on land. The swamp itself is oversaturated with Yin Qi–overflowing, seeping into everything it touches. That Yin spreads outward, creeping toward nearby regions if left unchecked."

She swallowed, forcing herself to slow, though fear still drove her pace.

"The forest you crossed," she added, gesturing vaguely behind her without turning, "is protected by the Vermillion Continental Array. That array cleanses Yin Qi. Anything Yin that comes into contact with it gets purified, redirected, broken down before it can corrupt the land."

Princess Lainsa's eyes widened slightly.

"An array of that scale…" she murmured, then spoke aloud, curiosity slipping past caution. "Who created it?"

For the first time since speaking, the merchant woman hesitated.

"A… goddess," she answered carefully. "We don't know her name. Or her true identity. Only that the array predates written records. The knowledge of it was passed orally–from elders to elders."

Before Princess could ask more, Kiaria's voice cut in.

"Who made it is irrelevant," he said flatly. "Continue."

The words were not sharp.

But they cut.

The merchant woman nodded rapidly and pressed on.

"Swamp creatures," she explained, hands trembling as she gestured downward, "excrete Yang-attributed waste deep within the swamp. Normally, that would destabilize the region entirely. But because the forest acts as a cleansing zone, the excess Yang is absorbed by the purified land instead."

Her fingers curled.

"The soil reacts. It sprouts enclosed leaves–protective sheaths. Within them, Yang condenses into these beads. Each bead…" Her voice faltered for half a breath. "…marks a new death in the swamp."

Silence followed.

Not shock.Not outrage.

Only a heavy, shared understanding.

"Fine," Kiaria said after a moment.

His gaze shifted–not to her face, but to the wooden caskets stacked beside her stall, where Golden Berry Beads lay piled far beyond what should have been naturally possible.

"Now tell me this," he continued calmly. "How did you do this?"

The merchant woman shuddered.

Her breathing quickened, shallow and uneven. Sweat traced her temples as she opened her mouth–then froze. No sound came out.

Her son noticed immediately.

His gaze flicked toward the surrounding stalls, to merchants pretending not to listen, to the subtle tightening of the crowd's formation.

"Mother…" he whispered urgently.

Then, unexpectedly, he stepped forward.

He knelt.

Not before Kiaria.

Not before the Chief.

Before Diala.

"P–Please," he said, lowering his head, voice breaking under strain. "Can you… can you not ask this right now? Others are watching us."

Diala looked down at him.

Her expression did not soften.

Your mother started this.

I will not interfere.

She deserves whatever follows.

She did not voice the thoughts.

She simply did not respond.

Princess Lainsa sensed the tightening atmosphere and stepped forward.

"Patron," she said quietly, eyes scanning the market. "Let's skip that question for now."

Kiaria turned his head slightly toward her.

"…Is that so?"

There was a pause–measured, deliberate.

"Since you say so," he replied, tone unchanged, "I'll let her breathe for a while."

The cadence felt uneven, fractured–words aligned, intent not entirely so.

Princess frowned faintly.

For the first time, concern touched her eyes–not for the merchant woman, but for Kiaria himself.

"Patron," she said carefully, "Shade–both of you, follow me. Chief, help this woman rest for a moment."

Her voice carried authority.

Not borrowed.

Not forced.

Chief blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

That was… unmistakably a Queen's tone.

Yet she had included the merchant woman in her command, blurring the hierarchy just enough to make him hesitate.

I regret leading this team, Chief thought grimly.

I thought I escaped that shameless woman's mouth.

Now Lainsa throws me right back to her. Damn it.

Still, he obeyed.

Chief lifted the merchant woman carefully into his arms.

"Ahem."

Mu Long coughed loudly.

"Chief," he added with a grin, "this is public. Doing things like this here–kids are watching."

"Shut up," Chief snapped without hesitation.

He leaned closer to the merchant woman, lowering his voice until only she could hear.

"You alright?" he asked coldly. "Sorry for interrupting your… business. Everything started because of me. But you made one grave mistake."

Her eyes flicked up.

"You dragged that little girl into your plot," he continued, tone sharpening. "If your son weren't standing here, your head would already know the smell of blood-soaked soil."

She laughed weakly.

"If you marry me," she said shamelessly, "everything will be forgotten. Peaceful."

"Tch." Chief clicked his tongue. "You really don't learn, do you?"

He smirked faintly. "Better call Patron to handle you again."

He lowered her onto the temporary seat inside her stall.

"You're heartless," she snapped. "Don't you know women should be handled gently? I'll teach you later–after I claim you."

"Indeed," Chief replied dryly. "Women lack bones in their tongues. And their length is excessive."

"HEY!" Princess's voice rang out from afar. "I heard that! Me and Shade will teach you with our fists later!"

Chief flinched.

"…I forgot," he muttered. "They're girls too."

"Don't worry," the merchant woman said brightly, blushing. "I'll protect you."

"Tch. Protect yourself first," Chief replied flatly.

Mu Long chuckled.

"Chief," he said lazily, "private businesses later. We've been standing here a while. Getting bored."

"Get lost," Chief growled.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward and hammered Mu Long on the head with a curled fist.

"OW–!"

"What was that for?!" Mu Long protested. "I was just adding fuel!"

"Fuel?" Chief hissed, leaning in. "How long have you worked with me? Can't you see we're in a danger zone?"

Mu Long blinked. "What do you mean?"

"She's hiding more than truth from us," Chief murmured calmly. "She's hiding it from neighboring stalls too. Those beads–whatever methods produce them aren't clean."

He glanced at the surrounding market.

"Find ways to calm the situation," Chief finished. "Instead of laughing like an idiot."

Mu Long's grin faded.

"…I see."

And for the first time since stepping onto the mainland, the market no longer felt like a place of trade–

But a battlefield not yet stained with blood, where secrets waited patiently to bleed.

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