Night settled over the academy like a velvet cloak, heavy and unnaturally quiet. The lanterns flickered weakly in the corridors, their flames trembling as if fearing the darkness itself. Hana moved through the shadows silently, her mind racing.
Woojin had seen her.
Not fully. Not everything.
But enough.
Enough to know she was no ordinary academy girl.
His expression from earlier replayed in her mind—the sharp focus in his eyes when she caught that falling blade, the tension in his jaw when she stepped between him and danger, the way he looked at her as if she were a puzzle he'd spent years trying to solve.
Hana exhaled shakily.
She didn't want him involved.
She couldn't afford anyone seeing her past creeping through the cracks.
She turned a corner, heading toward the empty training courtyard she'd scoped out days ago. But halfway there, she paused.
Someone was already inside.
Hana's fists clenched out of instinct—until the silhouette stepped into the moonlight.
Woojin.
He stood in the center of the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back, his robes stirring in the wind. He looked as if he'd been waiting for her.
Of course he had.
Hana weighed her options:
• retreat
• pretend she didn't see him
• lie
• or face him
But Woojin raised his head before she could decide.
"You were planning to avoid me," he said calmly, "which is why I came here first."
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Why did he have to be so perceptive?
"Why are you here?" she asked, voice steady but guarded.
Woojin studied her quietly, his eyes searching hers—not accusing, not hostile… simply determined.
"To understand you," he replied.
She felt her breath catch. "There's nothing to understand."
He stepped closer—not threatening, but deliberate.
"You caught a blade with your bare hand," he said softly. "And your movements… your reaction time…" His eyes narrowed slightly. "They're not normal."
Hana's jaw tightened. "Things aren't always what they seem."
"Exactly," Woojin said. "Which is why I can't ignore it anymore."
Silence settled between them, thick and charged.
Hana took a small step back. "Woojin… you're a scholar. You solve things with logic and ink. My world is different. It's dangerous."
"Then let me in," he said. "Let me—"
"No." Her voice came out sharper than she intended. "You don't understand. If you come closer to my truth… you won't be able to step out of it again."
Woojin looked at her for a long moment. The moonlight streamed down his face, highlighting the quiet resolve carved into his expression.
"Maybe," he admitted.
"Maybe knowing you will bring danger."
"Maybe understanding you will cost me something."
"Maybe your world is darker than anything in this academy."
He met her gaze—steady, fearless.
"But I don't care."
The words struck her like a blow. She swallowed hard, struggling to process the warmth, the sincerity, the stubbornness in his voice.
"Woojin… why?" she whispered.
The scholar's expression softened—the first crack in his icy composure.
"Because when you stepped in front of me today, without hesitation…" His voice lowered. "I realized you're not trying to hide because you want to. You're hiding because someone forced you."
Her breath faltered.
"How long," he continued quietly, "have you been carrying everything alone?"
The courtyard was still.
The wind held its breath.
Hana turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Her fingers trembled at her sides, the ghosts of her past clawing up her throat.
"You don't know me," she murmured. "You don't know what I've done."
"That's true." Woojin took one more step. "But I can know who you are now. If you let me."
Her walls—those walls built through years of blood, discipline, and survival—wavered dangerously.
She shook her head. "You shouldn't get involved."
Woojin let out a slow breath. "Hana… someone attacked you today. Someone skilled. Someone who clearly wasn't expecting you to be so capable. That means you're being hunted."
Her stomach twisted.
"Let me help you," he whispered.
Hana froze.
Help?
No one had ever offered her that.
Not without a price.
Not without betrayal waiting at the end.
"You can't help me," she said, forcing steel into her voice. "The people hunting me aren't just criminals. They're part of a larger network. They don't stop. They don't forgive. And they don't leave witnesses."
Woojin didn't flinch.
"Then it's a good thing," he said, "that I'm not easily intimidated."
Hana stared at him—this scholar who rarely smiled, who spent his days immersed in books and calculations, who should have turned away the moment danger appeared.
But he didn't.
He stepped closer.
For the first time since she arrived at the academy, Hana felt something unfamiliar curl inside her chest.
Trust.
Or the beginning of it.
"No one has ever…" She shook her head, unable to finish.
Woojin tilted his head slightly. "You don't have to tell me everything," he said. "Not tonight. Not yet." His voice softened. "But don't push me away because you're afraid of dragging me into danger. I walk into danger on my own terms."
She let out a shaky breath.
He meant every word.
And that scared her more than any assassin.
Before she could respond, a sudden rustle cut through the air.
Both of them turned sharply.
A dart buried itself into the wooden pillar beside Hana—silent, fast, deadly.
Hana grabbed Woojin's arm and pulled him behind her just as two masked figures leaped from the shadows, blades glinting in the moonlight.
"Move," Hana hissed, pushing Woojin further back.
He didn't argue.
The assassins advanced—fluid, coordinated, professional.
They were from the Sect.
Her past had found her again.
Hana's eyes hardened.
Her stance shifted.
Her heartbeat steadied.
No more hiding.
One assassin lunged.
Hana swerved, grabbed his wrist, twisted, and flipped him over her shoulder. He hit the ground with a thud.
The second rushed her, blades slicing through moonlight. Hana ducked, kicked upward, sending his weapon flying.
Woojin watched, stunned—not afraid, but astonished—as Hana moved like water and lightning woven together.
A final sharp strike sent the second assassin collapsing.
Hana stood over them, breathing hard, her pulse steady, eyes cold.
It was the first time Woojin saw her without her mask.
Not the physical mask—
the assassin's mask.
The real her.
She turned to him slowly.
Woojin didn't step back.
He didn't look away.
He simply met her gaze with quiet understanding.
"Hana," he said softly, "whatever this is… you don't have to face it alone anymore."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"Woojin…" Her voice cracked, barely audible. "I don't know how to let anyone in."
He stepped closer—just one step—careful, gentle, as if approaching a wounded creature.
"Then let me be the first."
Hana closed her eyes.
For the first time, she didn't feel like running.