Wol didn't move immediately.
He stayed where he was, just inside the shadow of the alley's entrance, watching.
Up close, the details became clearer.
Jo Mak looked worse than he remembered.
His clothes were barely holding together — layers of worn fabric stitched and restitched so many times they had lost their original shape. The outer robe hung unevenly from his shoulders, one side torn down to the sleeve. Dirt had settled into every crease, turning what might have once been grey cloth into a dull, indistinguishable brown.
His hair was worse.
Long, unkempt, matted together in uneven clumps that stuck to his face and neck. Some parts looked like they had been cut crudely with a dull blade, others left to grow wild. Blood had dried along his hairline, mixing with dust into a dark, rough crust.
And his body —
Too thin.
Not the lean build of a martial artist, but the kind of thinness that came from irregular meals and constant beatings. His frame was still there, buried beneath it all, but right now it was just wasted.
One of the thugs grabbed his collar and lifted him slightly.
"You laughing, bastard?" the man growled.
Jo Mak coughed, a weak, breathless sound, then let out another short laugh. "What... you want me to cry instead?"
The response earned him a fist straight to the face.
His head snapped to the side, his body going limp again as he dropped back into the dirt.
Wol's gaze didn't change.
Same tone. Same way of talking.
Even like this.
That confirmed it.
He stepped out of the shadow.
"You're making too much noise."
The voice wasn't loud. But it cut through the alley cleanly.
The three men froze, turning toward him.
For a brief second, confusion crossed their faces.
A kid. Standing there like he had every right to be.
The biggest one frowned. "What?"
Wol walked forward, unhurried, his steps steady against the uneven ground.
"I said," he continued calmly, stopping a few paces away, "you're being loud."
One of the other men let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "You lost or something?"
Wol didn't answer.
His eyes moved over them once.
Positions. Distance. Balance.
Enough.
The closest man stepped forward, irritation replacing confusion. "Get lost before you —"
He didn't finish.
Wol moved.
It wasn't fast in a flashy way. There was no exaggerated motion, no wasted movement. Just a single step forward and a short, precise strike.
His fingers drove into the man's throat.
Not deep enough to kill. Just enough.
The man's voice cut off instantly, his body folding forward as he collapsed to his knees, choking on air that wouldn't come.
The second thug reacted a moment too late, swinging wildly.
Wol tilted his head slightly, the fist passing just past his cheek. His hand came up, catching the man's wrist mid-motion, twisting — not violently, but with exact control.
A sharp crack echoed.
The man screamed.
Wol released him immediately.
The third one hesitated.
That was his mistake.
Wol stepped in, closing the distance before the man could decide whether to fight or run. A single strike to the side of the neck — clean, controlled.
The man dropped.
Silence returned to the alley.
Wol exhaled lightly and adjusted his sleeve.
Behind him, Jo Mak let out a quiet, uneven breath.
"...You done?" he muttered, not even lifting his head.
Wol glanced down at him.
Up close, the smell of alcohol was stronger. Cheap. Harsh. Mixed with blood and dirt.
"You can stand?" Wol asked.
Jo Mak didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he let out a weak breath, then spoke — slow, rough, but clear enough.
"...You here to collect something?"
A pause.
"Unpaid tab... maybe?"
His lips pulled into a faint, crooked smile despite the blood.
"...Or what... you here to rob me?"
Another short, dry laugh followed.
"Bit late for that..."
Wol looked at him for a second. Calm. Unbothered.
"Doesn't seem like you have much to rob," he said. "I was just passing by. Heard the noise."
Jo Mak's gaze lingered on him a moment longer, as if weighing the answer.
"...Lucky me," he muttered.
"You can stand?" Wol repeated.
Jo Mak snorted weakly. "You planning to carry me?"
"Not really."
"...Then yeah. I'll manage."
It took him a moment.
He rolled onto his side first, coughing, then pushed himself up with visible effort. His balance wavered, but he stayed upright somehow, leaning slightly to one side.
His eyes finally lifted toward Wol.
Sharp. Not trusting.
"...You new around here?" Jo Mak asked, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"No."
Jo Mak studied him for a second longer. "Then you're stupid."
"Maybe."
That earned a short, dry laugh.
Jo Mak glanced at the unconscious men on the ground, then back at Wol. "...You didn't take anything."
"No."
"...Didn't ask for anything either."
"No."
Another pause.
"...Weird."
Wol turned slightly toward the alley entrance. "Can you walk?"
Jo Mak followed his gaze, then looked back at him. "...Where?"
"Somewhere you can sit without getting kicked."
Jo Mak let out a breath through his nose. "That sounds expensive."
"It's not."
"...You sure?"
As if on cue, his stomach let out a low, unmistakable growl.
Jo Mak froze for half a second.
Then clicked his tongue, annoyed. "...Ignore that."
Wol turned and started walking. "Come if you want."
For a moment, Jo Mak didn't move.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Wol's back.
No arrogance. No pity. Didn't even look back.
"...Tch."
Jo Mak shifted his weight and started walking.
Slowly. But he followed.
The smell of food replaced the stench of the alley before Jo Mak even realized how far they had walked.
The streets changed as they moved. From narrow, broken paths to wider roads. From silent watching eyes to the louder, layered noise of the merchant district. Jo Mak's steps slowed slightly as they entered the more crowded area.
People noticed. Not Wol. Him.
A beggar walking into places he clearly didn't belong.
His shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't stop.
Wol didn't comment on it. He just kept walking until they stopped in front of a familiar storefront.
Yeonhwa-ru.
Jo Mak looked up at it, then at Wol.
"...You're joking."
Wol stepped inside.
After a brief hesitation, Jo Mak followed.
The moment they entered, the atmosphere shifted. Clean floors. Warm light. The faint smell of food instead of rot and alcohol.
Jo Mak instinctively slowed. He didn't belong here.
"Wol!"
Nari's voice cut through the space. She rushed from behind the counter, stopping right in front of him. "You disappeared again this morning. Do you have any idea —"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her eyes shifted. To Jo Mak.
There was a brief pause.
Jo Mak's body stiffened slightly, already expecting it.
Instead —
"...Your friend?" Nari asked, tilting her head slightly.
Wol glanced at Jo Mak once before answering. "Something like that."
Nari looked at him again, then back at Wol. "...You always pick interesting people."
Wol shrugged faintly. "You'll get used to it."
She huffed. "I'm not sure I want to."
Jo Mak blinked.
That wasn't what he expected.
Nari turned and gestured casually. "Sit. Both of you. You look like you'll collapse if you stand any longer."
Jo Mak hesitated. He looked down at himself. At his torn clothes. The dirt. The blood. Then at the clean floor beneath his feet.
"...You sure?" he asked quietly.
Nari raised an eyebrow. "Do you see anyone stopping you?"
Jo Mak didn't answer.
He stepped forward.
And sat.
Still unsure. But he stayed.
Jo Mak sat across from him, still watching.
The table between them wasn't empty for long.
Nari returned with two bowls, setting them down with a soft clink. Steam rose immediately, carrying the rich scent of broth and freshly cooked noodles.
"Eat before it gets cold," she said, glancing once at Jo Mak before turning back.
Wol had already picked up his chopsticks before she finished speaking. He didn't wait. He simply started eating.
Jo Mak didn't.
The steam drifted past his face. The smell hit him fully now — warm, deep, layered in a way that made his stomach tighten again. But he didn't touch the bowl.
Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on Wol.
"What do you want?" he asked.
There was no hostility. Just suspicion.
Wol finished his bite before answering.
"I don't want anything," he said simply. Then he glanced at the untouched bowl. "But it seems like you do. So why aren't you eating?"
Jo Mak didn't look at the food.
"There's no kindness without a cause in this world," he said quietly. "So why are you helping me?"
Wol set the chopsticks down across the bowl.
"You reminded me of someone," he said finally. "A close friend."
"...Is he a beggar too?"
"Yeah. He was a beggar."
Jo Mak leaned back slightly. "Hm... never thought being a beggar came with that kind of advantage."
He let out a faint breath. "Most of the time it's just a curse. Pity. Or getting beaten up."
He looked back at Wol. "So where is he?"
Wol didn't look up. "He died."
Jo Mak stilled. "...How?"
"He had something to do. Left after making a promise. Never came back."
A small pause.
"I found out two years later."
Jo Mak looked at him for a moment. "...My condolences. He must've been a good friend."
"He was."
The silence lingered.
Jo Mak shifted, then grabbed the bowl and started eating.
Fast.
"It's good," he muttered. "Really good."
He didn't slow down.
"The flavors... balanced properly... been a while since I had something like this."
Wol watched him briefly, then resumed eating.
"It's the best you'll get in this city. So eat."
They continued quietly.
At some point —
"What was his name?" Jo Mak asked.
Wol's chopsticks paused mid-air.
He didn't hesitate.
"Seo Han."
The name came out naturally. Too naturally.
It wasn't Jo Mak's real name. It was a name he would take in the future — when he changed his identity and began rebuilding himself from the shadows.
Jo Mak frowned slightly. "...Strange. That name feels familiar."
He shook his head. "Probably heard it somewhere."
Wol said nothing.
By the time the bowls were empty, the tension had shifted.
Wol stood first.
He exchanged a brief glance with Nari at the counter.
"Come back without disappearing next time," she said.
"I'll try."
She snorted. "You won't."
He turned and walked out.
Jo Mak followed.
Outside, the air felt cooler.
"...You leaving?" Jo Mak asked.
"Yeah."
A short pause.
"...Do you need help with anything?" he asked. "Eating without paying still feels off... even as a beggar."
Wol looked at him once. "Yeah," he said. "I do."
Jo Mak's eyes sharpened. "What kind?"
Wol turned, already walking. "Walk with me."
Jo Mak stood there for a second.
Then clicked his tongue.
"...Tch."
He followed.