"oner like you... you say?" Yang Mi muttered.

  And suddenly—

  The memories crashed into her—Merciless, Uing.

  A childhood shaped by the gnawing grip of Hunger.

  A vilge where famine was not an occasional tragedy but a way of life.

  The nd, cracked and barren, stretched endlessly—lifeless beh the relentless sun.

  The air—thick with dust and decay, heavy with the stench of siess ah.

  And as if that weren't enough, bandits would desd, stealing the meager scraps they fought so hard to hold onto.

  The orphanage—a pce that existed in name only.

  Not a home.

  Not a shelter.

  Just four crumbling walls that barely shielded them from the cold.

  A, within that desotion, there was her.

  The old granny, frail as a dying ember yet still burning with the warmth of unditional love, cared for them with what little she had left.

  She would give them whatever scraps she could find, though it was never enough to fill their hungry bellies.

  But how could she offer them food when there was o give, as the vilge chief hoarded every st morsel for himself?

  How could she save them when her own body was on the brink of colpse, teetering dangerously close to the edge of death?

  In that cursed pce, a single piece of bread could decide between life ah.

  Going three days without food was not unheard of—it was expected.

  She watched her juniors—hollow-cheeked, brittle-boned, eyes dimming with every breath.

  Some closed their eyes and never opehem again.

  How many had she lost—loved ones, family, and dearest to her?

  To hunger.

  To siess.

  To the bde of a bandit's dagger.

  And in their final moments, in voices barely above a whisper, they would say—

  "If there's a life, like Granny said… I'd love to eat a full meal every day."

  A dream so small.

  A wish so simple.

  Yet so unattainable.

  Deep down, they knew.

  It was nothing more than a hollow prayer—a desperate lie to fort their starving souls before death took them.

  And she—who had sacrificed her own share time and time again for starving juniors—was barely aer off.

  She, too, had e close to that same abyss.

  A—

  The Nobles.

  The ones who passed through their vilge from time to time, ed in silks softer than any straw mat they had ever known.

  Their carriages gleamed uhe sun, followed by hundreds of guards.

  Their perfumes—sweet, intoxig, suffog—cshed against the stench of death and rot that g to the vilge.

  Their ughter—light, careless, mog—drowned out the desperate cries of the starving.

  For them, a single jewel upon their fingers was worth more than a year's supply of food for the orphanage.

  Ahey never so much as spared a crumb.

  Not a gnce.

  Only filthy looks cast down from their t seats, eyes filled with quiet disdain.

  As if huself was offensive.

  As if their suffering was beh notice.

  A sharp, bitter pain twisted in her chest.

  She had thought she buried these memories long ago.

  But now—

  Fwoop!

  A siear.

  Warm.

  Unbidden.

  A small teardrop rolled down her fwless cheeks.

  Her fingers brushed against it before she even realized it was there.

  "...Tears?"

  "Is it really... tears?"

  "Mine?"

  "Why...?"

  "I thought I had lost the ability to cry ever sihe day... I lost everything and swore o lose anything again."

  Suddenly, Reon's voiapped her back to reality.

  "What's wrong with you?" Reon asked, his tone light, but his gaze oddly unreadable.

  "If you're unwilling, then I'll take my leave. I don't think the Blood Oath will hold a if I haven't shared any information to begin with," Reon said.

  She blinked.

  Regained herself.

  Quickly, she wiped her cheek, f her voice back to normal.

  Her expression hardened once more, the walls she had built carefully over the years returning with full force.

  "W-Wait!" she stammered, her voice wavering. "I'll pay it. Just answer me, holy."

  Reon's smirk returned, more mischievous than ever.

  "Deal. Now, ask whatever you want."

  As she posed herself, Reon's thoughts ran wild.

  Was she really g just now?

  Yang Mi—Sto Yang Mi?

  No. No. No way.

  I must have imagi.

  There's no way she'd shed a tear.

  She didn't even flinch when the protagonist was on the brink of death, about to be killed by that man in the novel.

  To her, Yang Lie was too weak to even handle such threats.

  In fact, she was far more determio kill that man herself than to shed a siear over the situation.

  And now... she would cry over a handful of gold s?

  Impossible.

  That small sum was nothing more than grains of sand slipping through her fingers.

  And even if she truly was g now...

  Would I really let this ce slip away?

  Hell nah!

  Making money was still the top priority.

  Yang Mi exhaled, steadying herself.

  "The true enemy behind my brother's life—who is it? And what is his purpose?"

  Reon's pyful air faded.

  For a moment, he was silent.

  Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his voice dropping into something lower.

  Something heavier.

  "Once you hear his name, you're likely to get entangled in Yang Lie's mess. Are you sure you're ready for this, Yang Mi?"

  Her eyes narrowed.

  "Do you think I'm like those Outer Sect wastes? I'm prepared for anything to ter him, for my brother. Just say it."

  Reon sighed, shaking his head.

  "You're strong, but not at his level. Not yet."

  "Just say it already, bastard." Yang Mi snapped, her patiehinning.

  Reon chuckled, stretg leisurely.

  "As you wish, my dy. After all, I'm getting paid."

  Then his expression darkened.

  His words came cold, sharp, and ced with an unspoken warning.

  "The oruly after your brother's life is—"