The man stopped before a door at the back of the hall and pushed it open, revealing a modest office beyond. He gestured inside. "I think it's best we speak in private. Please... after both of you."
Kaiser and Drobar exchanged a glance, then followed.
The office was small but richly appointed. A large desk dominated the center, its surface polished to a deep, gleaming sheen—the kind of expensive wood that took decades to grow and cost a small fortune to acquire. Shelves lined the walls, filled with scrolls, jars of unknown contents, and strange artifacts.
The masked man walked around the desk and lowered himself into a high-backed chair that seemed made for someone of his size. He sighed a contented sound and then, slowly, reached up and lifted his mask.
The face beneath was... unremarkable. A man of middle years, with weathered skin, sharp brown eyes, and hair that had once been dark but was now streaked with grey. He was shirtless, wearing only long linen pants tied at the waist. His body was covered in black tattoos—intricate tribal prints that coiled around his arms, spread across his chest, and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.
He stared at them for a long moment. Then he gestured to the two chairs facing his desk.
"Sit."
They sat.
"So," the man—Brinn—began, leaning back in his chair. "What's your deal? Going into such a forest. Haven't you heard the stories?"
Drobar shrugged. "Well, stories are stories. Our reasons are our own." He met Brinn's gaze evenly. "Maybe at the end of it, we'll prove those stories wrong."
Silence.
Then Brinn threw his head back and laughed—loud, genuine, booming laughter that filled the small room and echoed off the walls. "Hahahahaha!" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Ha! I like how overly confident you are."
Kaiser and Drobar did not laugh. They sat in matching stillness, their expressions serious, their eyes fixed on the tattooed man.
Brinn's laughter faded. His smile remained, but something shifted in his gaze—a new respect, perhaps, or simply curiosity.
"Very well, then." He folded his hands on the desk. "I will not ask for your names, as it won't matter. But I am Brinn. Just Brinn. At your service."
He paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued.
"I'm sure you are both aware of the legend of the City of Gold. Paititi. The king who grew so absorbed in gold that he was punished by the gods, and so on."
They listened intently.
"Well." Brinn's voice dropped, becoming softer, more serious. "It was not divine judgment. It was actually... the king's own doing. He summoned a being from the underworld to bring him prosperity. That is how he was able to amass so much gold, despite his kingdom being small and located in the middle of nowhere."
He leaned forward slightly. "He contracted with a being so vile that it did bring greatness—but at a cost. People started dying mysteriously. Children could not make it past the age of two. Food became scarce, even as the kingdom drowned in gold." Brinn's eyes darkened. "And their king was so absorbed with gold. He had an illness of the soul. He did not pay heed to his people's suffering."
Drobar shifted in his seat but said nothing.
"So the people protested," Brinn went on. "And after a while, they turned to the same dark being for help—to overthrow their king."
He crossed his tattooed arms. "Many people made their own wishes. One asked for rain for water to drink. Another asked for sun to make crops grow. Another asked for an illness to befall on the king as punishment."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
"But the being grew tired of hearing so many conflicting wishes. So instead of granting them, it twisted them all together—and brought destruction upon the entire city." His voice grew quieter. "The being kept the gold for itself, deep in the caves."
He sat back. "No one can access the gold now. The curses are still alive. The terrain is still unpredictable. Monsters roam freely." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "And this is not confirmed, but they say a few spriggans protect the gold inside the cave."
Drobar frowned. "Spriggans?"
Kaiser answered without looking at him. "Woodland spirits. Tree-like monsters, you would say."
Brinn smiled—a slow, approving curve of his lips. "You sure do know your stuff, Master Black Magis."
Kaiser's body went rigid. His red eyes locked onto Brinn's face.
Brinn raised a hand, palm open. "Haha, don't be alarmed." His voice was easy, unbothered. "I am well versed with people. Their peculiarities and where they come from." His gaze traveled over Kaiser. "And you, sir, look definitely different."
Kaiser pushed aside what Brinn had just said. "But spriggans act on orders. So that means—"
"The defiled being," Brinn finished. "It orders them to protect the gold. Yes. That means the being is still inside." He leaned back in his chair. "Look, your journey will not be easy. So I wish you the best of luck."
Both men went quiet. Then Kaiser placed the small pouch of silver coins on the table again. "Just take the money."
Brinn didn't reach for it. Instead, his eyes gleamed. "Other than silver, what I really want is... that small pouch in your pocket."
Kaiser froze. He turned his head slowly and looked at Brinn with sharp ferocity. This man was no ordinary person—to be able to sense something like that.
Slowly, Kaiser pulled out the small, light red pouch made of velvet. He showed it briefly to Drobar.
Drobar looked at the pouch, then at Brinn. His body tensed. "You're good. Too good to guess something like that." His hand inched toward his weapon. "What are you?"
Brinn laughed loudly. "Hahaha! Now, now. I am just a humble village man blessed with clairvoyance. Being in this village next to a spooky forest for a long time... it exposes you to many things, you know...something you cant even explain sometimes."
Kaiser's voice was cold. "Why do you want this? Other than a bag of silver coins?"
Brinn's smile faded slightly. "I've had enough of money." His gaze fixed on the velvet pouch. "But I can feel that what's inside that pouch is worth more. It gives me a good feeling, you know. Something valuable—like a stone of power."
Kaiser's brows furrowed deeper. "Too bad. I won't give it to you." He tucked the pouch back into his pocket. "Settle for the silver."
He turned and walked toward the door. Drobar followed after shooting Brinn one last glare.
Brinn laughed again—cheerful, unbothered. "Hahaha. Alright, then. Oh! Before I forget." His voice sharpened slightly. "Do be careful at the base of the forest, too. A white ghost lurks around it."
Both men stopped at the word white. They looked back.
Drobar spoke first. "White ghost? Like a being in white robes and white hair?"
Brinn nodded, tapping his chin. "Yeah, yeah. Wow, words do travel fast." He leaned forward. "A few months ago, the villagers saw a white ghost skipping from one tree to another. Sometimes it comes with a glow—like it was searching for something." He shuddered dramatically. "They say the thing has weird-coloured eyes. And sharp teeth. And claws. A woman ghost, if you get it."
He wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't know about you, but I would stay far away from that being. Ish. It gives me the chills just thinking about it."
Kaiser and Drobar looked at each other.
They knew exactly what or who that "white ghost" was.
It was definitely Ayumu.
They both sighed—long, tired, and deeply familiar.