The woodcutter felt a little worried.
No.
Rather, the worry in his heart had grown a little heavier.
After all, ever since he found the Young Scholar...
Ever since he saw his younger brother in a sorry state unlike anything he'd ever seen before...
The worry in his heart had never gone away.
In fact, it had only continued to grow.
His younger brother...
Something really was wrong with him...
The woodcutter could only hope...
That if his younger brother didn't see the Black Monster in a moment, he would be able to let go of his beliefs...
And completely forget... the so-called Black Monster...
The Young Scholar came back to himself.
He shook his head.
Then headed toward the gate of the residence.
The woodcutter followed.
The gate swung open with a push.
It seemed that even after the uninvited guest had just paid a visit, the owner of the residence hadn't thought to lock the gate.
Then again, it made sense.
He hadn't expected...
That they would return here again so soon.
The Young Scholar hurried along.
Before long, he was even running.
"Little brother."
The woodcutter hurried after the Young Scholar.
He held the umbrella over him.
There!
The Young Scholar had run so hard he was nearly out of breath, but at last he saw the well that had left such a deep impression on him.
Its peeling, weathered exterior fit right in with the abandoned residence.
The Young Scholar couldn't stop in time and slammed into the well.
His upper body pitched forward.
The intense sense of déjà vu left him dazed.
He saw his own blurry face in the well water.
"Little brother!"
The woodcutter grabbed the Young Scholar.
"Are you all right?!"
He pulled