The Next Route

"Look at what?"

Asuma lounged lazily against a pile of goods, his tone carrying a hint of teasing. "You really want to go looking for that so-called ruin?"

"Not a ruin!"

Aoba shot him a glare. "I mean sneaking over to check out the caravan's cargo.

"They're guarding it so tightly. There has to be something fishy going on!"

"You've really got some nerve, kid."

Asuma laughed and patted Aoba on the shoulder. "Fine. We'll check it out tonight after they've gone to sleep.

"But let's be clear first—if something really happens, don't expect me to clean up your mess."

"Tch, like I need you to clean up after me!"

Aoba snorted, but his gaze had already settled on the caravan's wagons.

The wagons were covered in thick tarps, with guards taking turns keeping watch around them. Their defenses looked airtight.

As the night deepened, the desert temperature plummeted. The cold wind swept sand into their faces, stinging painfully.

Aoba pulled his cloak tighter around himself, but his eyes shone with an almost frightening brightness.

He lowered his voice and said to Asuma, "Hey, if we really uncover some huge secret, do you think we'll earn a major merit?"

"A merit?"

Asuma gave a scornful laugh. "Stop dreaming, Aoba.

"The desert isn't that simple.

"If there really is a secret, we'll be lucky just to make it back alive."

"Pah, don't jinx it!"

Aoba glared at him, though a faint unease had begun to stir within him.

The desert night was terrifyingly quiet, broken only by the wind and the occasional cry of a camel.

Aoba's gaze swept across the caravan's wagons, but the leader's cryptic words surfaced in his mind unbidden—"To you, it's a shortcut. To us, it's the entrance to hell."

Kawaki Aoba's gaze shifted from the campfire