The man with the flute, who had been heading west, suddenly spoke as if he had made a decision.
“Monk, I have sothing to say.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be following you anymore.”
“...What?”
“Ah, don’t misunderstand. I was never one of those Murim criminals to begin with. I did realize they were bad people. That’s my fault, I suppose. I only acted as a guide a few tis because they said they’d pay well. Now that I’m going back, I plan to leave all that behind and focus only on my music... Monk, are you listening?”
Dong-su replied with a baffled look.
“Suddenly... where are you saying you’ll go?”
“I’ll go back to where I used to live. I have no reason to travel all the way to the Western Regions and live as a monk.”
“So what you said to Sword Demon, the Sect Leader, Physician Moyong, Master Yukhap, Director Cha, and Lord Mong was all a lie?”
The flute man feigned innocence.
“You all decided among yourselves to let live and said the monk would take . When did I ever agree to that? Even my head—Lord of Haomun told to shave it, so I was forced into it.”
Dong-su, who had been silently listening, suddenly smiled as if enlightened.
The flute man asked with an annoyed expression.
“Why are you laughing? Is that mockery?”
Dong-su answered with a smile.
“Is there a law saying monks can’t laugh?”
“Well, no. But anyway, let’s part ways now. Walking the quiet road with you, monk, taught many things. I sincerely thank you. Goodbye.”
Dong-su said,
“Donor...”
“I didn’t offer anything, so don’t call that.”
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