The night before Murkfang's disappearance, he shared something with Byung that would haunt him long after. It wasn't clear why Murkfang would choose him, of all goblins, to bear such a burden. Yet the words carved themselves into his mind, leaving no escape once spoken.
"Byung, can I trust you?" Murkfang asked, his gaze fixed on the pale moon.
Byung hesitated. He knew the weight that came with such words. Trust, once given, was a chain that bound both parties. But hesitation or not, there was only one answer.
"Yes…" he said quietly.
"When you look at the goblins, what do you see?" Murkfang asked. His tone was heavy, almost testing.
"Friends…" Byung replied, childlike in his honesty. But he quickly noticed Murkfang's expression—sharp, unconvinced.
"I know you can speak properly," Murkfang pressed, glaring. Byung's body stiffened, instinctively bracing as if for punishment.
"It's fine," Murkfang said, softening as his eyes returned to the moon.
