That Organization is Mysterious!

His short blue shirt fluttered faintly in the breeze, worn threads at the cuffs appearing and disappearing in the sunlight. It looked somewhat old, setting him in stark contrast to the well-dressed merchants and passersby around him.

He kept his head lowered, his gaze occasionally sweeping over the stalls on either side. The mixed scents of the marketplace lingered around his nose—the rich grease of roasted meat, the bitter tang of herbs, and the faintly bloody smell drifting from the livestock pens in the distance.

His heart beat a little too fast, and his fingers unconsciously tightened around the cloth bag in his hand. Inside were two bags of medicinal herbs he had just bought from the old man, their considerable weight giving him an inexplicable sense of reassurance.

Asuma walked beside him at an unhurried pace, the hem of his gray robe swaying gently with each step. A few flecks of mud stained its corners, making him look like a down-and-out traveler who had wandered far and wide.

His face was still smeared with the layer of mud and ash he had deliberately applied, yet a faint smile lingered at the corner of his lips, as though he had everything around him firmly in hand.

Aoba secretly glanced at him, and the unease in his heart eased slightly.

Asuma's composure was not an act, but the accumulation of years spent walking the edge of a blade.

He was always like this. No matter what kind of predicament he faced, he could always make people feel as though everything was under control.

The marketplace street was not very wide, with stalls packed along both sides. The wooden racks were hung with all manner of colorful wares—bright fabrics, gleaming bronze vessels, and baskets of vegetables freshly picked from the fields, carrying