The moment Hana stepped back into the feast hall, the music felt wrong.
It was cheerful, lively, bubbling with laughter—yet beneath it all, she could hear something else. A faint tremor beneath her skin, like a string pulled too tight. The sense of danger did not fade. It sharpened.
Woojin stayed close beside her, his expression controlled, but his eyes alert.
He didn't ask more questions. He trusted her instincts—something no one had done before.
Mira spotted them re-entering and hurried over. "Hey, where did you two—Hana? Are you okay?"
Hana forced a breath. "Fine."
Woojin answered for her, voice low. "Someone was watching her from outside the garden."
Mira's face drained of color. "A spy? From where?"
Hana shook her head slightly. "I don't know. But they weren't a student."
"And they weren't passing by," Woojin added. "They moved like they were avoiding detection."
Mira glanced around nervously. "Should we tell Master Seong?"
"No," Hana said quickly.
Her voice was sharper than she intended, and Mira flinched. Hana softened her tone.
"Not yet. There's no proof. If I raise alarm, they'll start asking how I noticed. Why I noticed."
Her history—her skills—would unravel everything.
Woojin looked at her a long moment, then nodded. "We'll watch quietly."
But the unease clung to her skin like cold dew.
The feast continued, oblivious. Students danced clumsily in circles, grabbed extra rice cakes, spilled tea on their robes—young, carefree, unaware of the shadows gathering just beyond the lantern light.
Hana forced herself to sit at a table with Woojin and Mira. She barely tasted the food. Her senses stretched outward, listening for footsteps, movements, breathing patterns out of place.
"Eat," Woojin murmured.
"I am."
"You're stabbing the rice," Mira added flatly.
Hana blinked. The rice ball had indeed been annihilated.
"I'm… distracted."
Woojin's voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her. "Do you think it's them? The ones you ran from?"
Hana's chest tightened. She didn't want to say the name. It felt like summoning a ghost.
"The Shadow Sect doesn't send scouts without purpose," she finally said.
Woojin went still.
Mira looked between them, confused. "Shadow… what? Who are they?"
Hana swallowed.
"My past."
Before either of them could respond, the doors to the hall slammed open.
A student staggered in, panting, robes torn at the sleeve. "Master Seong! There's trouble at the eastern gate!"
The room erupted in startled whispers. Masters stood immediately, alarmed.
"What kind of trouble?" Master Seong demanded.
"I—I don't know! The guards said there's a— a figure standing outside the gate. Not speaking. Not moving. Just watching."
Every drop of warmth drained from Hana's body.
Watching.
Woojin and Hana locked eyes at the same moment.
It was not coincidence.
"They're here," Hana whispered.
Woojin rose instantly. "Then we go."
"We?" Mira squeaked.
"No." Hana shook her head. "This isn't your fight."
Woojin glared. "Anything targeting you is already my fight."
Hana's throat closed. She didn't have time to argue.
Students began crowding the hall's entrance, buzzing with fear and curiosity.
"Stay behind me," Woojin said.
He strode toward the exit. Hana followed, Mira hurrying after them despite Hana's warning.
Outside, the night had changed.
The festival's lanterns still glowed softly, but the air felt frozen, heavy, waiting. Several guards stood rigid near the eastern gate, spears trembling slightly in their hands.
"Master Seong is on his way," one guard said shakily. "But the figure hasn't moved an inch."
Hana stepped forward.
Woojin caught her wrist. "Be careful."
She nodded once.
Together, they approached the gate.
A single lantern illuminated the entrance. Beyond it—darkness, deep and absolute.
Then she saw him.
A tall silhouette stood just past the boundary of light. Cloaked in black, face veiled, posture perfectly still. No rise of breath. No shift of weight.
But Hana recognized the stance instantly.
Shadow Sect.
Her stomach twisted.
The figure raised one gloved hand and slowly, deliberately, beckoned.
Woojin tensed beside her. "Hana—"
"I know him," Hana whispered. "Not his name. But his rank."
"How?"
She met his gaze. "Because I was trained to move exactly like him."
Woojin's jaw clenched.
The figure beckoned again.
And without warning, he stepped into the lantern light.
A collective gasp from the guards.
His mask—white, expressionless—covered his entire face. A black emblem, like a bleeding crescent, was etched across it.
Hana went cold.
"That symbol," Woojin murmured. "What does it mean?"
Hana's voice was barely audible.
"Hunter-class."
Woojin's breath hitched. "Meaning?"
"He's here to retrieve me. Or kill me."
Woojin stepped in front of her immediately, blocking her from view. "He'll have to go through me first."
The masked figure tilted his head slightly, as if amused.
Then he reached into his cloak.
Hana moved before he even finished the motion.
She slammed Woojin sideways, pushing him behind a stone pillar just as a blade whistled through the air.
THUNK.
The dagger buried itself in the wooden gate, quivering.
Students screamed behind them.
Woojin stared at the blade, stunned. "That would have—"
"Yes," Hana said.
The Hunter took a single step forward.
Hana stepped in front of Woojin again, body low, muscles coiled.
"Hana," Woojin hissed. "You can't fight him here. There are too many people. Too many witnesses."
"I don't have a choice."
"You do. Stay with me."
She shook her head.
"This is between me and the Sect."
Woojin grabbed her arm, desperate. "You don't face shadows alone anymore."
Before Hana could respond, the Hunter raised his hand—
—and threw a small object onto the ground.
Smoke exploded outward in a violent burst.
Guards shouted. Students screamed. Lanterns flickered.
Woojin grabbed Hana's hand. "Move!"
But the Hunter was already gone.
Hana's lungs burned as the smoke dissipated. The gate area cleared—empty. No footprints. No lingering shadow.
He had come, delivered his message, and vanished.
A warning.
A promise.
A hunt.
Woojin squeezed her hand, his face pale, shaken.
"Hana," he whispered, "this was just the beginning, wasn't it?"
Her voice cracked.
"Yes."
She looked at the dagger still embedded in the gate.
A shadow-class mark etched into the hilt.
She pulled it free and stared at the symbol.
A message only she could read.
I've found you.