After a huge ruckus, the two elders from Gang of Justice reluctantly depart, leaving the place in a mess—wooden chairs smashed over heads, shattered windows broken with bodies, and their iconic wooden sign on the door with 'Yi', or 'justice', written on it, now split into two pieces stuck in the ground. 'Anyone who was injured should head inside to get patched up. Everyone else help me clean up the mess. If any of our customers see this, they're going to be scared away.' Windscoot says this as he takes the lead and grabs a broom with one hand, his other pressing on a cut on his forearm. 'Hey, kid. You're the one who should go get patched up. If you hadn't blocked that blow for me, my head would've been split open.' 'It's just a little cut, I'm not afraid of blood—okay, okay! Enough glaring at me, uncle. I'll go wrap it up once I'm done cleaning.' The former bandits begin to clumsily clean up the mess. Today their 'escort agency' has far less members than when they were bandits, and the situation seems much more somber after this bout of chaos. Someone picks up the broken 'Yi' and says: 'Are we gonna toss our Justice away just like that?' Windscoot takes the broken sign and sighs without speaking. The Gang of Justice had broken up, and the escort agency's business was unlikely to improve. Was everything he had done so far the right thing to do? 'Hey,' The uncle jabs at him, 'You did nothing wrong. It was those two who extorted our customers. If they'd carried on with it, it would've been hard for us to continue this line of work.' 'Exactly! I finally learned to read a few words recently too. Wouldn't it all go to waste if our agency goes bankrupt?!' 'And all those super-hard-to-remember passcodes too!' 'Don't get me even started. Those damn traffic rules keep giving me fines round the clock! I won't forgive anyone who makes all my effort go to waste!' 'Haha, isn't that because you're too dumb?' The crowd chats about the efforts they've put into their new lives, filling the air with laughs. Windscoot unfurrows his brow, and pats his own head, as if trying to expel the hesitation within himself. The next day, the wooden 'Yi' sign appears again at the escort agency's entrance. 'For now, I just stuck them back together with some nails. I'll make a new one when I have time.' Windscoot returns to his usual cheerful tone. 'Nah, don't bother! This is a pretty unique look. Look at the top and bottom halves—now they're joined even closer than before!' 'Exactly, isn't it the trend these days to have, uh, a logo or whatever? We should trademark it!' Sounds of agreement follow. 'Really? I'll go find someone to turn it into an actual logo then, and print it on our clothes and gear. But remember: you asked for this, so no refusing to wear your future uniforms.' Windscoot's beaming smile draws a crowd of complaints. Learning to write up orders, practicing martial arts, keeping proper accounts—everyone is busy getting the escort agency on the right track.