Morning crept slowly into the lower districts of the city.

  The sun had barely begun to rise above the rooftops when the streets started to stir with life. Wooden shutters creaked open along the market road, merchants rolled carts into position, and the faint smell of cooking fires drifted through the narrow alleys like a promise of another ordinary day.

  But the whispers had started long before the markets opened.

  Even in the early hours, people were already talking.

  A noble had been forced to kneel.

  Not just any noble.

  Seo Hyunmin.

  And the one who had done it was a beggar.

  Min had heard the rumors before he even left the shelter.

  Now he sat on the edge of the wooden platform outside the Beggar Sect’s crumbling building, nervously tapping his fingers against the rim of his bowl while staring down the street like a man waiting for a storm to arrive.

  Every passing footstep made him tense.

  Every unfamiliar voice made him glance over his shoulder.

  Behind him, the wooden door creaked open.

  Chunma stepped outside.

  He looked exactly the same as he had the day before. The same worn clothing, the same quiet posture, the same calm expression that never seemed to change no matter what happened around him.

  Min turned and stared.

  “You slept.”

  Chunma rolled his shoulders once, loosening the stiffness from the night. “Yes.”

  Min squinted at him.

  “How?”

  Chunma looked mildly confused. “By closing my eyes.”

  Min groaned and dragged both hands down his face.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  Chunma leaned against one of the wooden support posts and glanced down the street. The early crowd had already started moving through the district. Merchants, servants, and travelers filled the road with the usual morning bustle, though every now and then someone would glance toward the Beggar Sect’s shelter before quickly looking away again.

  The rumors were spreading.

  Min noticed the looks too.

  “See?” he muttered. “They’re talking.”

  “They usually are.”

  Min shot him an irritated glare.

  “You made a noble kneel yesterday.”

  “He knelt himself.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Chunma shrugged.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Min leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You embarrassed one of Hwang Jinhyuk’s people in the middle of a crowded market.”

  “So I’m told.”

  Min stared at him.

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  Chunma rested his arms loosely across his knees and watched the street for a moment before replying.

  “If they wanted us dead already,” he said calmly, “we’d be dead.”

  Min blinked.

  “That… is not comforting.”

  Chunma’s gaze drifted upward.

  The morning sunlight spilled into the street at an angle, illuminating something faint that most people would never notice.

  Golden particles.

  They floated through the air like dust caught in sunlight, moving slowly with the wind and the shifting currents of the street.

  Resonance.

  Since yesterday, Chunma had begun noticing it everywhere.

  He inhaled slowly.

  The golden particles trembled slightly as the breath entered his lungs.

  Min noticed the motion and frowned.

  “You’re doing that again.”

  Chunma exhaled slowly.

  The particles scattered.

  “Doing what?”

  “That weird breathing thing.”

  Chunma didn’t answer immediately. Instead he studied the drifting specks of light for another moment.

  In his previous life, power had been something tangible.

  Steel.

  Discipline.

  Armies.

  Strategy.

  The strength of men standing behind you.

  This world was different.

  Here, power floated in the air itself.

  Waiting.

  Min crossed his arms. “You’re thinking about Resonance again, aren’t you?”

  Chunma nodded once.

  “Of course.”

  Min sighed.

  “You only heard about it yesterday.”

  “And?”

  Min looked at him like the answer should have been obvious.

  Chunma tilted his head slightly.

  “If something powerful exists,” he said, “it’s worth learning.”

  Min frowned.

  “That’s not how most people react.”

  Chunma smiled faintly.

  “Most people aren’t very ambitious.”

  Min narrowed his eyes.

  “That’s a weird thing to say for someone sitting outside the Beggar Sect.”

  Chunma leaned back against the post.

  His gaze drifted toward the distant rooftops of the upper districts where the noble houses stood.

  Once, he had ruled a kingdom.

  When he became ruler at seventeen, the borders of Myronia had looked large to everyone else.

  To him they had looked small.

  The mountains beyond the kingdom had not seemed like barriers.

  They had seemed like invitations.

  Even now, sitting in the dust of a foreign street in a body that was not originally his, the instinct had not disappeared.

  It stirred quietly in the back of his mind.

  How far could this power go?

  How much of the world could it reach?

  Min was still watching him suspiciously.

  “You’re smiling again.”

  Chunma blinked.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  Min groaned.

  “You’re impossible.”

  The wooden door behind them creaked open again.

  Elder Kang stepped outside.

  The old man paused when he saw the two boys sitting there and stroked his beard slowly.

  “I hear you caused trouble yesterday.”

  Min winced.

  Chunma shrugged slightly.

  “There was a disagreement.”

  Elder Kang’s eyebrow rose.

  “That’s an interesting way to describe forcing a noble to kneel.”

  Min covered his face.

  Chunma didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest.

  The old man studied him carefully.

  “Do you understand whose pride you stepped on?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Chunma met the elder’s gaze calmly.

  “If he wanted respect,” he said, “he should have behaved like someone worthy of it.”

  Min groaned again.

  Elder Kang stared at Chunma for several seconds.

  Then, unexpectedly, the old man chuckled.

  “You’ve got a dangerous mouth, boy.”

  Chunma shrugged.

  “It works.”

  The elder shook his head slowly.

  “The city is already talking about you.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  Min looked miserable.

  “They’re also talking about who that noble follows.”

  Chunma glanced at him.

  “Hwang Jinhyuk.”

  The name hung in the air.

  Min rubbed his temples.

  “That’s the problem.”

  Elder Kang nodded slowly.

  “Men like Jinhyuk do not usually chase problems themselves,” he said. “They send others.”

  Chunma nodded once.

  That made sense.

  In his previous life, kings rarely handled insults personally either.

  They sent soldiers.

  Or generals.

  Or assassins.

  Min followed Chunma’s gaze as he looked back down the street.

  “Please tell me you’re not excited about this.”

  Chunma smiled slightly.

  “Not excited.”

  Min squinted at him.

  “Then what?”

  Chunma watched the golden particles drifting lazily through the morning light.

  “Curious.”

  Min groaned loudly.

  “That’s worse.”

  Before Chunma could reply, movement at the far end of the street caught his attention.

  A group of figures had turned the corner.

  Their clothing was cleaner than anything usually seen in the lower districts. Their steps were slow, deliberate, and confident as they moved through the street toward the Beggar Sect’s shelter.

  Min noticed them a moment later.

  His stomach dropped.

  “Oh no.”

  Chunma straightened slightly.

  The morning had just become interesting.

  And this time, the visitors were not here to beg.