Mei couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were on her. It was as if a cold breath had brushed against the back of her neck, and her pulse quickened. The sensation was subtle but unnerving, lingering just out of reach like a shadow she couldn’t quite see. She glanced around but saw nothing that could explain the feeling. She was in the heart of the empire’s pride—the grand arena—where warriors and nobles alike gathered. Surely, no one here would have any reason to notice her. Yet, it gnawed at her.

Instead of dwelling on it, Mei forced herself to look up at Myong Yeo-Jung. The woman walked ahead with effortless grace, her demeanor calm and composed, a stark contrast to Mei’s current unease. Myong’s presence exuded authority, but there was something unexpectedly approachable in the way she carried herself. Mei’s curiosity bubbled up again.

“Master Myong,” Mei began, her voice slightly tentative, “how long have you known my master?” She was eager to learn more about the person her master had once been.

Myong Yeo-Jung glanced down at Mei, her lips curling into a faint smile. Her eyes glinted with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. “Ah, your master. She was actually a new disciple at the academy during my last year as a student. I’m about five years older than her.” She paused, her gaze drifting forward as they moved toward their seats.

“Five years…” Mei murmured thoughtfully, her mind working quickly to calculate the ages. “So you two weren’t exactly close?”

Myong let out a small chuckle. “Close? Not really. She was... always focused on her training, even back then. She was the sort who kept to herself, never got tangled up in the academy's social web. No interest in frivolities—no interest in men, either, at least not in the way most young women do. It was all about cultivation for her. It was no surprise she became the youngest master in academy history.”

Mei couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It seemed like a perfect description of her master—diligent, almost to a fault. “She’s always been the kind of woman who places study and training first. Play comes second.”

Myong nodded, her lips curving upward into a more genuine smile. “Yes, exactly. She might not have had much of a social life, but she made an impression. Even back then, I could tell she was destined for greatness.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of distant crowds echoing faintly around them as they neared the seating area. Mei glanced around, trying to ignore the strange feeling of being watched. The air buzzed with the excitement of the crowd, the scent of fresh grass mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and the warmth of the sun overhead. But the feeling of being under scrutiny remained. Mei shook her head and focused on the combatants in the arena, practicing their stances and strikes. The arena felt alive with energy—a true reflection of the empire’s might.

As they approached the grand seating area, Mei noticed the three disciples who had accompanied Yeo-Jung. They were standing slightly apart, talking among themselves, their expressions serene but observant. There was a quiet confidence about them, but it was clear they were still young—perhaps Mei’s age, or a little older. Despite their youth, they carried themselves with a maturity beyond their years.

One of them, a boy with messy brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes, caught Mei’s eye and smiled warmly. "Hey, Mei, right?" he asked, stepping forward with a casual ease. "I’m Jae-Hoon. Nice to finally meet you."

Mei smiled shyly and nodded. “Yes, nice to meet you too.”

The girl standing next to him, a pretty young woman with long, dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail, gave a small, polite bow. “I’m Ji-Hye,” she introduced herself, her voice soft but friendly. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk later. I’ve heard so much about your master.”

The third disciple, a tall boy with sharp features and an intense gaze, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he observed the others with a relaxed posture. He spoke with a quiet confidence. “I’m Kyung-Soo,” he said simply, not offering much more. His voice was calm but carried an air of authority, even for someone his age.

Mei nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sudden attention. She glanced at Yeo-Jung, who was quietly watching the interaction, her expression unreadable.

"Master Yeo-Jung," Mei began, a little unsure of how to continue the conversation, “I was just talking with you about my master, Umi.” She turned to Ji-Hye, Jae-Hoon, and Kyung-Soo. “Do you all have a master too?”

Kyung-Soo smiled faintly, then nodded. “We follow Koku,” he said, almost as if it were a matter of fact.

“Koku?” Mei asked, raising an eyebrow. “The God of Joy, Fortune, and Longevity?”

Ji-Hye brightened at the mention of Koku. “Yes, Koku. He’s our patron deity. We’ve been taught to embrace joy and the fleeting nature of life’s good moments. To seek balance, you know?”

Jae-Hoon leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling. “It’s not just about luck or getting rich, Mei. It’s about finding happiness in the little things, and keeping a positive spirit no matter what challenges come our way. Our god is about longevity in the sense of sustaining joy throughout your life.”

Kyung-Soo added, his tone thoughtful, “Koku teaches us that fortune is something you earn through your actions—through kindness, generosity, and the celebration of life. It’s about living a long, fulfilling life by cherishing every moment.”

Mei listened intently, captivated by the easy sincerity in their voices. “That sounds... really different from what my master believes,” Mei murmured, almost to herself. “My master says that strength comes from pushing through hardship, not from enjoying the good moments.”

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Ji-Hye smiled gently. “Your master’s path is one of discipline and perseverance. But Koku’s path is about balance—embracing both hard times and good, and always remembering that joy can be found even in the darkest hours.”

Jae-Hoon grinned. “That’s why we follow Koku. To find happiness in whatever life throws at us.”

Mei smiled softly, feeling a sense of warmth from their words. She hadn’t expected to be so moved by the discussion, but there was something comforting in the idea of finding peace and joy, even in small ways. It was a refreshing perspective, one she’d never really considered before.

“Maybe I’ll try to look for joy in the little things,” Mei said thoughtfully. “Perhaps there’s more to life than just constant striving.”

Yeo-Jung, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “You’ll find your path, Mei. No one’s journey is the same. Whether it’s Koku’s way or your master’s, remember that there’s strength in finding balance between them.”

The disciples were still beaming at Mei’s open response, and their excitement was palpable, but Yeo-Jung’s eyes narrowed, and she cleared her throat sharply.

“Alright, enough. Don’t you think you’re being a bit too eager to convert our guest?” she chided with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms in mock sternness.

The disciples blinked in surprise, their smiles faltering for just a moment.

“You forget,” Yeo-Jung continued, her voice turning slightly more playful, “Mei already has a deity. I’m sure she doesn’t need your persuasive skills.” She glanced pointedly at each of them, her gaze cool but affectionate.

The disciples seemed to catch themselves and exchanged sheepish looks, their cheeks flushing slightly.

“You’re right, Master,” Kyung-Soo said, bowing slightly with an apologetic smile. “We got carried away.”

“Sorry about that, Mei,” Ji-Hye added quickly, her voice tinged with embarrassment. “We just wanted to share our god’s teachings with you.”

Mei smiled, feeling the warmth of their sincerity but also grateful for Yeo-Jung’s subtle reminder.

“Thank you,” Mei replied softly, before turning to Yeo-Jung with curiosity. “Master Yeo-Jung… who is your god?”

Yeo-Jung paused for a moment, her playful demeanor slipping as she regarded Mei with a curious, knowing look. "I serve a god of balance, much like Koku, but with a different philosophy. It's… not quite relevant for this conversation, but if you're interested, I'll tell you about them later."

Mei nodded, then, as if on impulse, decided to share something about herself as well. “My god is Vasu-Jin,” she said, her tone quieter now, “the serpent god of venom.”

The air seemed to freeze for a moment. The disciples blinked at Mei in shock, exchanging awkward glances. It wasn’t just the name of the god—it was the nature of it. "Venom" had an ominous sound to it compared to the bright ideals of Koku.

Yeo-Jung’s eyes twitched for a moment, and then she smiled—though it wasn’t quite as effortless as usual. A small, knowing laugh escaped her lips as she tried to brush the tension away. “A venomous serpent, huh?” she said, her smile widening, though there was an edge to it. “That’s... certainly different.”

For a moment, it was all too quiet. Mei watched her fellow disciples carefully, who were still processing the unexpected revelation. Then, Yeo-Jung clapped her hands together, her eyes brightening as if nothing had happened. “Well, we’ll save that discussion for another time. I’m sure we’ve all had enough of theology for now.”

The disciples slowly nodded, their discomfort gradually easing, and the conversation shifted back to more neutral grounds.

----------------------------------------

Ryohei leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed on the young girl in the distance. She was sitting among the crowd, her features serene, yet unmistakably familiar. His heart stuttered in his chest. Those eyes. There was no mistaking them—piercing blue, filled with an intensity that could freeze the very air around her. He had seen those eyes before. He had seen them on a face that had haunted his dreams for more years than he cared to admit.

The arena around him blurred as his focus sharpened entirely on her. It’s impossible. She can't be...

He had seen that face once, years ago, the day he had condemned her to die. She had been no more than a child, innocent and bright, with a defiance that would not be broken—even as the rope tightened around her neck. The memory surged through him like a tidal wave, the vivid images of the execution still burned into his mind.

But this... this girl in front of him was alive. She was here, in the flesh, exactly as he remembered. How can that be?

The breath in his chest seemed to freeze as he watched her, still and unmoving. His hand gripped the railing before him so tightly his knuckles turned white. The crowd’s cheers faded into nothingness. There was only the steady beat of his pulse, and the quiet voice in his mind growing louder.

Is it possible? Could this be... a second chance?

He wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, especially not to Saisei, the god who had once abandoned him, the god whose presence still felt like an uncomfortable weight on his soul. But a small, fleeting part of him wondered if this was a blessing—a chance to right the wrongs of his past. He had taken so much, caused so much pain… could this girl, standing before him now, be Saisei’s way of offering redemption? Or was it simply a cruel twist of fate?

A surge of hope ignited in his chest, and then just as quickly, it was snuffed out. He would never allow himself to believe in such a gift, not without the certainty that it was truly his to claim. Not after everything.

"No," he muttered softly, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the thought. "It’s just... coincidence."

Kuronuma’s presence at his side went unnoticed as Ryohei’s eyes stayed locked on the girl. His mind raced, unable to accept the possibility, yet unable to dismiss it either. Could this girl be the same one from his past? Was she truly the reincarnation of the child he had sentenced to death so long ago? If she was, what did that mean for him? For his path?

"Lord Ryohei?" Kuronuma’s voice broke through the fog in Ryohei’s mind, though it sounded distant, muffled.

"Find out everything you can about her." Ryohei’s voice was cold, a command as much to himself as to his trusted lieutenant. "Everything."

Kuronuma nodded, silently slipping away into the crowd without another word. Ryohei's gaze followed the girl, his heart filled with a strange mix of dread and longing.

He would not admit to Saisei that he had even considered the possibility of this being a divine gift. That would be foolish. But he would see this through. If the gods truly were offering him a second chance, he would take it—on his own terms.

The memories of his arrogant pride filled youth still haunted him at times.