The hall buzzed with chatter as scholars filed in for inspection, but to Hana and Woojin, the noise felt distant—muted by the pounding of their own adrenaline. They stood close enough that their sleeves brushed, both trying to appear calm while hiding the unconscious assassin behind the folding screen.
Woojin leaned slightly toward her, voice barely above a breath.
"Tell me what happened."
Hana kept her gaze forward as tutors inspected the desks. "Another Sect assassin infiltrated the academy. I disabled them… for now."
He exhaled sharply. "Hana, this is escalating. Two attacks in two days—"
"I know."
"No." Woojin's eyes burned with frustration. "You're treating this like it's normal."
"It is normal," she said quietly. "For me."
And that was the problem.
Woojin clenched his jaw, turning away as the royal inspector entered—a tall, stern-faced man in black and crimson attire. The scholars bowed. Hana followed suit, though every muscle screamed for vigilance. If any royal official recognized her…
The inspector stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze swept the hall like a hawk scanning for prey.
"Who is responsible for the set-up of this room?" he asked.
Hana stiffened. Woojin stepped forward instinctively.
"I am, Inspector," Woojin said. "Along with Scholar Hana."
The inspector's gaze shifted to her, and Hana forced her breath steady. His eyes lingered on her for a half second too long—sharp, suspicious—before he moved on.
"Very well," he said. "See that no disturbances occur."
As he turned away, Woojin touched the edge of Hana's sleeve subtly, a grounding gesture. She didn't pull away.
When the inspector and staff finally dispersed toward the administration building, Woojin whispered, "Now."
They slipped behind the screen, where the unconscious assassin lay crumpled on the floor. Woojin inhaled sharply at the sight.
"Hana, what are we going to do with them?"
"Hide them until nightfall. Then I'll deal with it."
Woojin's brows furrowed. "Which means what exactly?"
She didn't answer.
He stepped in front of her. "Hana."
She met his gaze reluctantly.
"What were you planning?" he pressed. "Kill them? Run away again?"
Her silence was answer enough.
Woojin grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to keep her attention.
"You can't keep carrying this alone."
"I have to," she murmured. "My past is hunting me. If I let anyone close, they get destroyed."
Woojin's fingers tightened—not out of anger, but desperation.
"Then let me share the danger. I'm not afraid."
"You should be."
"I'm not," he repeated, eyes unwavering. "Not of you. Not of whatever follows you."
Her chest tightened. She hated how much she wanted to believe him.
But before she could respond, Joon's voice echoed from the hall entrance.
"Woojin? Hana? What are you two doing—oh stars—why are you behind a screen together?"
Woojin nearly choked. Hana froze.
Joon stared at them with widening eyes. His expression shifted rapidly—shock, horror, dawning scandal, excitement.
"Oh no," he whispered dramatically. "Should I… leave?"
Hana dragged a hand down her face. Woojin looked like he wished the floor would swallow him.
"It's not what you think," Hana began.
Joon raised both hands. "Say no more. I see everything. Two people. One screen. Tension in the air—"
"Joon," Woojin warned.
"Right, right. I'll pretend I saw nothing." He leaned in. "But also… did I see nothing?"
Hana stepped aside, blocking the screen. "Yes. You saw nothing. Now leave."
Joon gulped and backed away. "Leaving! Gone! I vanished!"
He sprinted out of the hall.
Woojin let out a long suffering breath. "Saints help me."
Hana almost laughed.
Almost.
---
A Moment That Shifted Everything
They dragged the assassin into a storage crawlspace beneath the hall floorboards—a small, dark compartment rarely used. Woojin helped lower the body inside, grimacing at the strain.
Hana pushed the board back into place, sealing the compartment.
The hall was quiet again.
Woojin wiped his forehead and leaned against the wall. "We need to plan. You cannot take on the entire Shadow Sect alone."
"I've been doing it for years."
"And look what it's doing to you." His voice softened. "You're exhausted. Haunted. Always waiting for the next attack."
She swallowed hard, unable to deny it.
Woojin stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Hana… let me help you."
She didn't move back this time. Their proximity felt dangerously natural.
But the walls she'd spent years building didn't crumble easily.
"I don't know how to let someone in," she said quietly. "Not without hurting them."
Woojin's expression gentled.
"Then start small. Let me worry with you. Let me stand beside you. Let me… care."
Her breath hitched.
He reached out, slowly—giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
His hand brushed her cheek gently, his thumb skimming the faint cut above her jaw. The touch was so tender it nearly undid her.
"Hana," he whispered, "you don't have to be a weapon all the time."
She leaned into his palm before she could stop herself. Just a breath. Just a moment.
Then the floor vibrated faintly—footsteps outside.
They both straightened immediately.
Woojin dropped his hand, but his eyes stayed on hers, warm and unwavering.
"We'll finish this talk," he murmured.
Her pulse stuttered. "Will we?"
"Yes." His voice was certain. "Because I'm not walking away. Not from you."
---
The Calm Before the Next Storm
For the rest of the day, Hana helped prepare the examination materials. Students rushed back and forth, unaware that death had nearly threaded itself through the hall hours earlier.
Hana kept her senses sharp.
Woojin kept glancing her way, as if making sure she hadn't vanished again.
And Joon… stared at them from behind pillars, convinced he was being subtle.
By evening, when lanterns lit the academy pathways, Hana walked toward her dormitory. Woojin walked beside her—steps aligned as though they had been doing it for years.
At her door, she paused.
"Woojin… thank you."
He smiled faintly. "I'll stay nearby tonight. Just in case."
"Woojin," she sighed.
"Not negotiable."
She opened her mouth to argue—then stopped.
Something inside her was shifting, loosening, warming.
"Goodnight," she said softly.
Woojin's eyes lingered on her. "Goodnight, Hana."
She slipped inside her room and pressed her back to the door, feeling the warmth of his voice lingering in the air.
For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a small, fragile smile.
But it faded when she heard the whisper of parchment sliding under her door.
She bent down and picked it up.
A single sheet.
A symbol drawn in black ink.
The mark of the Shadow Sect.
Her blood turned cold.
They were here.
Inside the academy.
And this time… they weren't sending a warning.
They were declaring war.