The academy courtyard slept under a pale wash of moonlight. The lanterns had long been extinguished, leaving only the chirping of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves. Most students rested behind wooden doors and paper walls, drifting into peaceful dreams.
Hana was not one of them.
She paced the length of her narrow dorm room, hands clasped behind her back, her mind racing. Woojin's warning from earlier refused to leave her head.
"Someone was following us."
Her pulse quickened. If another assassin had tracked her… or worse, recognized her… then being in the academy was no longer just dangerous—it was a death sentence.
She paused by the window, sliding it open slightly. The night breeze whispered against her skin. Every shadow on the courtyard path seemed to breathe. Every movement in the trees felt like a threat.
Stop it, she scolded herself. Fear only gives them power.
Still, she couldn't deny it: something had shifted in the air since the alley attack. Something unseen… watching… waiting.
A soft knock jolted her.
Hana froze. Three knocks—spaced evenly, quietly. A deliberate rhythm. Not a student. Not a teacher.
Woojin.
She opened the door an inch, and his stern face appeared, illuminated by the moonlight.
"We need to talk," he said.
She stepped aside, letting him in. He closed the door with barely a sound and stood with his back against it, his posture rigid, guarded.
Hana crossed her arms. "You look like you're about to tell me the sky is falling."
"It might as well be," Woojin replied. "I found evidence."
Her stomach clenched. "Of the person following us?"
He nodded, pulling something from his sleeve—a torn strip of black fabric. At first glance it looked like ordinary cloth… until he turned it, revealing a small embroidered sigil at the corner.
A dragon coiled around a sword.
Hana's blood turned cold. "That's impossible."
"You've seen this before?" Woojin asked sharply.
She forced her expression to stay neutral. "Only heard of it."
That wasn't a lie. She'd heard of them. She'd studied them. She'd been trained specifically because of them.
The Black Serpent Order.
A secret brotherhood of elite killers, feared even among assassins. And loyal only to the highest bidder.
If they were here, then someone powerful wanted her dead.
Woojin watched her too closely, eyes narrowing. "You're hiding something."
"I hide many things," she said, her tone light. "It's essential for survival."
"That's exactly what worries me."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Woojin… why are you helping me? You barely know me."
His jaw tightened. "Because I see things others don't. And what I see—when I look at you—is someone who acts indifferent, but carries wounds deeper than she lets on."
Hana stared at him, heart stopping for half a second.
Who gave him the right to speak like that?
Before she could retort, he continued quietly.
"You're dangerous," he said. "But not in the way that threatens others. I think… you're dangerous to yourself."
Her breath caught.
This man… this annoyingly observant scholar… was going to ruin her.
She turned away, pretending to fuss with her bedding. "Self-sacrifice is overrated."
Woojin didn't smile. "You say that like someone who's already chosen it."
Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.
Then—
A sharp rustle outside the window.
Woojin's hand went immediately to his hidden blade. Hana's fingers flew to the small dagger strapped under her sleeve.
They exchanged a look.
Not imagination.
Not paranoia.
Someone was outside.
Woojin mouthed: Stay behind me.
Hana mouthed back: Not a chance.
He scowled at her. She rolled her eyes.
They moved toward the window silently, every step calculated. Hana pressed her back against the wall, blade ready. Woojin approached from the opposite side.
Another noise—closer this time.
A shadow shifted… then darted.
Woojin launched himself through the window first, hitting the ground with the silent grace of a trained fighter. Hana followed instantly, sweeping the immediate area with sharp eyes.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No presence. No breath of movement.
But something lingered—
A scent of jasmine and steel.
The calling card of the Black Serpents.
Woojin scanned the trees, muscles tense. "They were here."
Hana nodded. "Yes."
He turned to her. "Why target you?"
"I should be asking you," she snapped, defensive. "You're the one from a high-ranking family. Maybe it's your enemies."
"My enemies don't leave sigils," Woojin replied calmly. "Yours seem to."
She stiffened. She didn't want him connecting dots he shouldn't. But Woojin wasn't stupid. If she kept reacting like this, he'd figure out everything.
And she could not afford that.
Hana forced her tone neutral. "Perhaps they simply mistake me for someone else."
Woojin's eyes locked onto hers. "You don't believe that."
Of course she didn't. No assassin in the Order made mistakes like that.
And yet—
Why now?
Why here?
Why her?
Her mind raced.
Unless…
Unless someone from my past finally tracked me down.
The thought tightened a fist around her lungs.
Woojin suddenly stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're in danger. And whether you trust me or not, I'm not letting anything happen to you."
She blinked up at him, startled.
His eyes held no doubt, no hesitation—just quiet certainty.
Warmth curled unexpectedly in her chest. She hated that feeling. It made her weak. Vulnerable.
"Woojin," she murmured, "you shouldn't get involved."
"It's too late for that," he said. "The moment I saw you in that alley… I already chose my side."
What side? she wanted to ask. Mine? Or the truth you're trying to uncover?
Before she could speak, something sliced through the air—
A small weighted dart embedded itself in the tree trunk beside them.
Hana grabbed Woojin and pushed him back just in time.
A silent message dangled from the dart, written in black ink.
We have found you.
Your time in the light ends.
Return… or die in the shadows.
Woojin's face hardened. "This is no random threat."
Hana stared at the message, her pulse thundering.
Her past had found her.
Her enemies were closing in.
And worst of all…
She wasn't the only one in danger anymore.
Woojin stepped in front of her protectively.
"We're leaving," he said. "You're not spending another night alone."
She glared. "I don't need protection."
"You do tonight," he said, and his voice carried a strange mixture of anger… and fear.
Fear for her.
Hana swallowed hard, unable to look away.
For the first time in years, she wasn't afraid of dying.
She was afraid of losing someone who didn't even belong to her.