Nay

"Nay nay… nay…"

The faint voice barely reached Seo Reun over the sound of his own footsteps crunching against the dry, cracked earth. At first, he ignored it, assuming it was the wind or his exhaustion playing tricks on him. But then he heard it again, closer this time.

"Nay… Nay!" They sounded frustrated this time.

Seo Reun sighed and came to a slow halt. Tilting the wide brim of his straw hat up, he turned his gaze toward the tiny child who had been trailing behind him for some time now. The child's cheeks were puffed out, filled with air, an unmistakable sign of frustration.

The sight was unusual. People usually went out of their way to avoid him, crossing the road or quickening their pace the moment they spotted him. His tattered robes, stolen from the last village he had passed through, marked him as someone to be wary of. The dark, frayed layers hung loosely off his frame, dirt-streaked and torn at the hems. He hadn't taken them for comfort but out of necessity, his previous attire, though far finer, would have drawn too much attention. The last thing he needed was an encounter with bandits. To make up for the theft, he had left his old robes folded neatly atop a rock where he had taken these. A fair exchange, in his eyes.

The midday sun was merciless, glaring down upon the land with an unforgiving heat. His clothes clung to his skin, damp with sweat. He was certain he smelled unpleasant, it had been ten days since he had last bathed in a river, and in that time, he hadn't come across so much as a trickling stream. His water supply had run out two days ago, leaving his throat dry and scratchy. He swallowed, but it was a futile effort. He had to keep moving and hope that he would soon come across a stream or river.

Adjusting the black wooden box strapped securely to his back, he reached up to ensure the heavily bandaged sword was still fastened tightly. The cloth wrapping was old and frayed, bound in several layers to keep prying eyes away from the weapon beneath.

Though he had been aware of the child following him, he had deliberately tried to ignore him, convincing himself that the boy would eventually give up and turn back. What he hadn't expected was the child keeping pace with him. Now, there were only a few feet between them.

Seo Reun had walked briskly, hoping to shake the boy off. Yet, to his surprise, the child had only quickened his steps, skipping and hopping in an effort to keep up. Now, watching the small figure puffing along behind him, Seo Reun felt a twinge of guilt. The boy might have been lost from the start, but by forcing him to speed up, he had likely led him even further astray.

"Nay… Nay!" The child called loudly.

This time, Seo Reun stopped completely and turned to face the child. He didn't speak right away. He had long since learned that in unfamiliar lands, understanding a person's dialect was crucial before responding. He had traveled too far, crossed too many borders, and each time he encountered someone new, he had to carefully listen to their speech before imitating their accent well enough to blend in, at least until he reached the next region, where he would have to start the process all over again.

The child, who barely reached his torso, bounced on his feet with excitement. He wore a simple tunic and pants, both slightly oversized, and his short, unkempt hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. From his attire, Seo Reun assumed him to be a boy. The child's energy was boundless, a stark contrast to Seo Reun's own exhaustion. He had been longing for rest, yet he had pressed on, partly because of this very boy who had left him no choice but to keep moving.

Suddenly, the child jabbed a small finger at him and grinned, the frustration gone and now replaced with excitement. "I knew it! I knew it! Your eyes are the same color as Brother Dong's!" He annouced.

Seo Reun stiffened.

Instinctively, he looked away, cursing himself for being careless. He had let his guard down, simply because it was a child.

His eyes, vivid green, unnatural in these lands had always set him apart. He had never encountered another person with the same shade. The first time he had revealed them to a stranger, they had screamed "Demon!" and fled in terror. The second time, a group of travelers had become so fascinated that they had attempted to pry his eyes from their sockets while he slept, claiming they would fetch a high price in the black market.

Since then, he had kept them hidden beneath the brim of his hat or behind his hair, avoiding prolonged eye contact whenever possible. But now… this child was claiming that someone else had his eyes? Someone named Brother Dong?

Curious as he was, Seo Reun forced himself to push the thought aside. He still had a long journey ahead, and a lost child was not his concern.

"Do you know the way back home?" Seo Reun finally asked, carefully shaping his words to match the child's accent. He didn't need long to mimic someone's speech, especially a child's, and there was no one else around to overhear him. Only the occasional birds flapped their wings overhead, their calls breaking the otherwise oppressive silence. He detected no signs of human presence nearby, which meant he didn't need to be overly cautious before speaking.

"Yes! Over there!" The boy pointed behind him without even turning to look.

Seo Reun raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

As he spoke, he turned slightly, noticing how intently the child was trying to get a clear look at his face. In response, he reached for the small scarf tied around his neck and pulled it up over his mouth and nose, creating a makeshift mask. If no one had taught this boy not to follow strangers, Seo Reun figured he would make himself appear more like one.

The boy finally glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see something familiar. But the moment he did, he froze.

His excitement drained from his face, replaced by creeping realization. There was nothing behind him—no familiar landmarks, no village lights, no path leading home. Just an endless stretch of dirt and rocks, the same featureless road they had been walking for who knew how long.

A heavy silence fell between them.

Then, the boy's lower lip trembled. His small fists clenched.

And before Seo Reun could react.

He burst into tears.

"A lost child," Seo Reun muttered under his breath. He made no attempt to move closer, irritation flickering in his chest at the situation he had unknowingly created. He watched as the boy cried, his small frame shaking with each sob. Seo Reun had never dealt with children before and had no idea how to interact with them. He wasn't even sure if he was scaring the child or why he was crying in the first place. But he could see the fear written all over the boy's face, and strangely, it reminded him of himself of the way he had cried as a child.

Except, he had never cried this hard. Never to the point where mucus streamed from his nose like it did with the boy in front of him. Mucus was considered dirty, a sign of weakness. He had never been allowed to get dirty unless it was from training.

"You should go back and find whoever you're with," Seo Reun said after a long pause, hoping it would put an end to the child's tears.

It didn't.

Instead, the boy's wailing grew even louder. Seo Reun let out a sharp breath, turned on his heel, and began walking away, deciding to leave the child to his tantrum.

But the moment he moved, the boy scrambled after him, running to catch up while still sobbing.

"Brother Dong... Brother Tien... I want to go... ho... me..." the child wailed, his words breaking apart between hiccupped sobs.

Seo Reun stiffened. This was dangerous.

A child crying this loudly could attract unwanted attention—wild animals, bandits, or worse. Humans without a pure mind would come seeking an opportunity, and that was something he could not allow. He had survived this long by avoiding trouble, not inviting it.

His body tensed, and without thinking, he stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned, his head tilting at an unnatural angle as he stared down at the boy.

"I told you to leave. Why are you still following me?" His voice was sharper this time, edged with frustration.

The boy only sobbed harder, his face a blotchy mess of tears and dirt. Seo Reun narrowed his eyes, trying to recall anything from his training that might help him understand what he was doing wrong. He had told the boy to go home. That should have been enough.

Then, like a flicker of lightning, the realization struck him.

If he left the child here alone, the boy would be easy prey. Wild animals could be lurking in the shadows, waiting for an easy target. Even worse, a passing stranger with ill intentions could take advantage of him.

Leaving the boy alone was not an option.

Without another thought, Seo Reun reached out, grasped the child's small hand in his own, and turned back the way they had come.

Wordlessly, he started walking.