The room smelled of dried herbs, old incense, and something deeper—something ancient that clung to the walls like memory itself.
Meruem stood silently while the old woman spoke.
Mitu—known among the few who dared seek her as a Nen seer, a healer, and a relic of a forgotten age—leaned on her staff, her clouded eye fixed on him. The other eye, sharp despite its age, never left his face. She spoke slowly, deliberately, as though each word carried weight far heavier than sound.
"On the eastern edge of the world," she began, "beyond any officially recognized map… lies what humans call the Cursed Continent."
The name alone was enough to chill the air.
"According to a classified document written by the Researchers of the Protectors," Mitu continued, "there exists a remedy for Nen-related afflictions that cannot be healed by conventional means. A substance that interacts directly with the essence of aura itself."
Meruem did not interrupt.
"Their expeditions were never approved," she added. "They were illegal. Hidden. Erased from records the moment they began."
She exhaled, a weary sound escaping her chest.
"One hundred and fifty people crossed into that land."
A pause.
"Only two returned."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"One of them," Mitu said, "inhaled the spores of a creature—half mammal, half plant. It exhaled them through a trumpet-like organ growing from its skull. Those spores devoured his Nen from the inside. He died screaming within hours of his return."
Her staff tapped lightly against the stone floor.
"The other… survived by chance. Desperation."
Meruem's eyes narrowed slightly.
"He forced his dying companion to consume every plant they encountered. Roots. Leaves. Sap. Anything that looked remotely edible. And in doing so…"
She lifted her head.
"They discovered it."
Her voice dropped.
"A plant the researchers later named Folklore—the Divine Rose."
The words echoed in Meruem's mind.
"It grows near a small lake, high atop a mountain," Mitu said. "The water there reacts to life itself. According to the fragments left behind by the survivor, Folklore does not merely heal Nen."
She met Meruem's gaze.
"It rebalances it."
Meruem felt it then—a faint tightening in his chest.
"Let me be clear," Mitu added sharply. "This story is still classified as unofficial. The Protectors possess far greater resources than the Hunter Association ever did. They bury truths more efficiently."
She straightened slightly.
"I am telling you this only because you come from Aldebaran."
At that name, something shifted.
"If that old man sent you to me," she continued, "then he trusts you."
She sighed, a long breath escaping her lips.
"And that alone… makes me curious."
Throughout her explanation, Mitu had never stopped watching Meruem. She observed every minute reaction—his breathing, the tension in his shoulders, the stillness of his posture.
He did not look shocked.
Nor afraid.
Only… thoughtful.
Meruem moved.
With a simple, controlled motion, he sat on the nearest intact stone bench. His posture was upright, his hands clasped calmly before him. To anyone else, he might have appeared polite.
To Mitu, he looked like a judge contemplating a verdict.
"If I summarize correctly," Meruem said evenly, "Komugi is stable—for now."
Mitu nodded.
"She is not in immediate danger."
"But without this plant," he continued, "her condition will worsen. Slowly. Inevitably."
"Yes."
"And access to the Cursed Continent," Meruem added, "requires a complex procedure."
"More than complex," Mitu replied. "It is forbidden."
Meruem did not respond immediately.
Inside his mind, thoughts unfolded with cold clarity.
Humans…
They built cages and named them laws.
He had seen it repeatedly since awakening in this fragile body. Systems created not to protect life—but to control it. Organizations ruling from shadows. Councils deciding who may live, who may explore, who may know.
And yet, those same rulers violated their own rules when profit demanded it.
A system designed to limit the many… for the benefit of the few.
The irony was almost amusing.
The narrator's voice rose quietly, unseen:
For the first time, Meruem understood that to save Komugi, strength alone would not suffice.
He would have to enter the human world—not as a king, but as a participant.
To obey its rules.
To wear its masks.
Even if every instinct within him rejected it.
But beneath that realization…
Another decision had already been made.
A far simpler one.
I will save her.
No matter the cost.
Meruem lifted his head.
"We understand," he said calmly. "We will go to this continent."
Mitu's breath caught.
"We will retrieve the plant."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
No doubt.
No negotiation.
The air around him seemed to grow heavier, as if responding to the resolve he radiated.
Mitu felt a chill crawl down her spine.
What kind of being… she wondered, can hold such certainty?
She had seen warriors. Kings. Fanatics. Monsters.
But this—This was different.
The expression on Meruem's face was not reckless.
It was absolute.
A man prepared to sacrifice anything—perhaps even his own soul—to achieve his goal.
After a moment, Meruem spoke again.
"I have one request."
Mitu looked up.
"Please," he said, bowing his head ever so slightly, "take care of Komugi while we are gone."
Her eye widened.
"With her condition," Meruem continued, "and the environment of the Cursed Continent, it would be impossible for us to protect her fully. Any risk—no matter how small—is unacceptable."
He paused.
"We will not endanger her life further."
Silence stretched.
Mitu closed her eyes.
She considered refusing.
She should have refused.
The responsibility was enormous. Dangerous. Foolish.
And yet…
After a long moment, she opened her eyes again.
"Very well," she said slowly. "I will do you this favor."
Meruem looked up.
"If Aldebaran entrusted you to me," Mitu continued, "then he must have his reasons. And if the girl remains under my care, I can intervene immediately should her condition change."
She exhaled.
"I will watch over her."
The narrator whispered softly:
In truth, Mitu herself did not know why she agreed.
Whether it was respect for Aldebaran…
Or curiosity toward the future of these two beings—so closely bound by fate.
She could not say.
She had every reason to refuse.
Yet she accepted.
Because something about their path unsettled her.
What awaits them?
What will Meruem become once Komugi is healed?
The mysteries of Nen did not end with humanity.
If a plant from the Cursed Continent could react to aura…
Then perhaps that land held truths far older—and far more dangerous—than any human system was prepared to face.
And as Meruem rose to his feet, already preparing for the journey ahead…
One thing was certain.
The world would not remain unchanged.
Not after the King made his decision.