The whisper outside the window felt colder than the night air.
Woojin didn't move. He didn't even breathe. But Hana felt his entire body sharpen beside her—tense, ready, protective in a way that made her chest tighten.
The voice repeated, softer but clearer this time.
"She belongs to the dark."
Hana's grip on Woojin's arm tightened before she realized it.
She released him immediately, but the damage was done—he had felt her fear.
Woojin shifted closer, shielding her without speaking. Only the faint glow of the lamp lit the room, casting tall, trembling shadows on the walls. Outside, the presence lingered, silent and waiting.
Hana inhaled slowly.
"Don't provoke them," she whispered.
Woojin's jaw clenched. "And if they provoke me?"
"They want you to step outside. They want a reason to kill you."
Woojin didn't look away from the window. "And if they want you?"
"They'll take me," Hana said flatly. "They won't hesitate."
The truth sat between them, heavy and sharp.
Woojin finally turned toward her. "Then I'll give them a reason to hesitate."
"No," she hissed, grabbing his wrist again. "You can't fight what you don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
Hana froze.
Explain?
How could she explain a past written in crimson and shadows?
A childhood shaped by blades instead of toys?
A life built from orders, oaths, and silent screams?
Her throat tightened. She shook her head. "Not now."
"Then when?" Woojin asked softly, but firmly. "When will you trust me?"
The word trust felt like a knife.
She looked away, unable to answer.
Another whisper came from outside—mocking, taunting.
"Tell him, Nightblade."
Hana's blood ran cold.
That name.
Her old name.
Her assassin title.
Woojin stiffened. "Nightblade?"
Hana's heart dropped.
Woojin turned to her fully now, eyes searching hers. "That's you?"
Her breath faltered.
"Hana… is that who you are?"
Silence.
It stretched long enough for the whisper outside to laugh—a low, cruel sound.
"She is not what she seems, Scholar."
Woojin ignored the voice. His gaze stayed on Hana.
"Hana… look at me."
She did.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Woojin's eyes softened—not with fear… but with something unbearably gentle.
"You don't have to hide from me."
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak past the tightness in her chest.
"I was trained as a weapon," she whispered. "Raised to kill. To follow orders. To disappear."
Woojin listened without flinching.
"The Black Serpent Order owned me. For years. I escaped. But no one leaves them alive."
A harsh breath escaped her.
She expected him to recoil.
To step back.
To see her as the monster she had been taught to become.
But Woojin simply reached out… and wiped away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.
"Hana," he whispered, "you survived what should have broken you. That doesn't make you a monster."
She shook her head. "You don't understand."
"I understand this," he said slowly. "You're here. With me. Fighting to live a different life."
Her lips trembled. "They'll never stop hunting me."
"Then I'll stand with you."
"You'll die if you do."
Woojin's thumb brushed her cheek again. "Then I'll die choosing you."
Her chest shattered.
She looked away, blinking hard. "You're a fool."
"And you're worth being a fool for."
She grabbed his wrist to stop him from touching her again, but her hold was shaking.
"Woojin…" she breathed. "I'm dangerous."
"So am I," he whispered. "Just… in different ways."
Before Hana could speak again—
The window burst open.
A figure in black landed inside the room—silent, swift, predatory.
Hana reacted first, shoving Woojin aside as the intruder's blade slashed through the space where his throat had been a split second earlier.
Woojin rolled to his feet, drawing his hidden dagger.
Hana didn't hesitate.
She launched herself at the masked attacker, her body moving with instinctive, lethal grace—each motion sharper, faster, more precise than anything she'd shown before.
Woojin watched in stunned realization.
This is who she really is.
Hana's blade clashed with the intruder's, sparks showering across the floor. He was skilled—far too skilled to be a simple scout. His movements were fluid, deliberate, disciplined.
A kill-squad leader.
"Nightblade," he hissed behind his mask. "Your master calls you home."
Hana snarled, "I have no master."
She kicked him back, but he twisted mid-air, landing with inhuman control.
Woojin moved to join in.
"No!" Hana barked. "Stay back!"
But the intruder lunged—this time not at Hana.
At Woojin.
Hana's heart stopped. "NO!"
She threw herself between them just as the blade arced toward Woojin's chest. Steel tore across her arm—blood splattering the floor.
Woojin's eyes widened. "Hana!"
Pain erupted up her shoulder, but she didn't stop. She used the momentum to slam her elbow into the attacker's jaw, knocking him back enough for Woojin to pull her behind him.
"Hana," he breathed, horrified, "you're bleeding—"
"Not the time," she hissed, wiping blood from her arm.
Woojin stepped in front of her—protecting her now.
"Move, Scholar," the intruder snarled. "She belongs to us."
Woojin lifted his blade, stance steady. "She belongs to no one."
The intruder's eyes narrowed. "Then you will die for her."
He lunged.
Woojin blocked—barely—but the impact sent him stumbling. The assassin was stronger, faster, trained to kill without hesitation.
Hana saw Woojin faltering—and something inside her snapped.
"No more," she whispered.
And then she moved—
Not like a student.
Not like an academy girl.
But like the Nightblade she once was.
Her dagger flashed, slicing through the air with deadly precision. She landed behind the assassin, twisting his wrist until his blade clattered to the floor.
He snarled, swinging a fist.
Hana ducked, spun, and drove her knee into his ribs.
He staggered.
Woojin threw his blade, hitting the assassin's shoulder. Not enough to kill—but enough to slow him.
Hana seized the opening—pressing her blade to the man's throat.
"Tell your master," she hissed, voice trembling with a fury born from years of running, "if he wants me… he can crawl out of the shadows himself."
The assassin smirked beneath his mask.
"Very well."
He slammed his fist into the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
When Woojin relit a new lamp—
The assassin was gone.
Only blood drops and a faint whiff of jasmine-and-iron marked his departure.
Woojin rushed to Hana. "Let me see your arm."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
"I've bled worse."
He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face him. His voice shook with anger and fear and something deeper.
"Hana. You were willing to die for me."
She swallowed. "I couldn't let him kill you."
Woojin brushed her hair back gently, his fingers lingering behind her ear.
"Then understand this," he said quietly, painfully, "I won't walk away. Not now. Not ever."
Her breath caught.
"Why?" she whispered.
Woojin leaned his forehead against hers—slow, intimate, grounding.
"Because I've already chosen you," he breathed. "Long before tonight."
Hana felt her resolve crumble.
Just a little.
Just enough.
She closed her eyes—not giving in fully… but not pulling away either.
For tonight, that was enough.
Because tonight…
Woojin had seen all her darkness—
And still stayed.