Night pressed over Daehan Academy like a weighted blanket—thick, heavy, and far too quiet. Hana moved through the shadowed courtyard with the parchment still clenched in her hand, the Shadow Sect symbol branded into her mind. The message felt like a pulse against her palm.
They were here.
Not outside.
Not hunting from afar.
Inside.
Woojin walked beside her, a little too close, matching her steps with silent determination. His lantern cast a small circle of pale gold light, cutting through the dark. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked to her as if making sure she was still beside him.
"Hana," he said quietly. "Talk to me."
She didn't answer immediately. She couldn't—not with her heart still thudding, not with her senses stretched thin across the campus like invisible threads.
Finally, she exhaled. "They found me."
Woojin stopped walking. "Then we tell the staff immediately—"
"No." She turned to face him. "We can't. They'll accuse me of something long before they believe I'm the victim."
Woojin stared at her for several seconds. She could see his internal war—logic clashing with fear, frustration fighting the desire to protect her. In the end, he inhaled sharply and nodded once.
"Then we handle this together."
Hana almost told him to step back, to protect himself. But the words lodged in her throat. He wasn't a child. He wasn't fragile. And most importantly—he wasn't someone who backed away from her, even when she begged him to.
Instead, she said, "We need to check the hall. Make sure our… guest hasn't woken."
Woojin groaned under his breath. "If that assassin gets out from under the floorboards, I swear I'll— I don't know what I'll do. Panic, probably."
She almost smiled. Almost.
They reached the examination hall doors. Hana felt for movement, for shifts in air, for any vibrations along the wooden floor inside. Nothing.
Still, she drew a dagger silently as they stepped in.
Woojin closed the door behind them and whispered, "I will never get used to that."
"What?"
"The way you move like you were born in the shadows."
"I was," she replied softly.
His expression flickered—pain and admiration tangled together. She ignored it, kneeling beside the floorboard section they'd pried up earlier.
Hana pressed her palm to the wood.
Still.
Cold.
Silent.
"He's unconscious," she confirmed. "For now."
Woojin exhaled. "Good. I don't have the energy to fight someone trained to kill tonight."
She raised a brow. "You fought one earlier."
"I accidentally stepped on him while trying to help you hide the body," he muttered.
She blinked. "That was accidental?"
Woojin looked offended. "Of course it was accidental! I am not a fighter."
Hana gave a quiet huff—something dangerously close to a laugh. But the amusement died quickly when her senses prickled.
A presence.
Watching.
Nearby.
"Lantern off," she ordered sharply.
Woojin obeyed instantly, plunging the hall into darkness. Hana's breath stilled. Her hand moved to the dagger at her hip.
Footsteps.
Soft. Careful. Approaching from the corridor.
Woojin leaned in until his shoulder touched hers. "Enemy?"
"Not sure yet," she whispered.
The footsteps paused outside the hall doors.
Hana's grip tightened.
A shadow shifted under the door crack.
Woojin inhaled quietly, and she could feel his heart hammering even though he was trying to stay calm. She reached for his arm—barely a touch, but enough to steady him.
The door slid open.
Lantern light from the hallway spilled in—and Joon stumbled inside holding a tray of teacups.
"Hana? Woojin?" he whispered loudly. "Why are you two standing in the dark? Are you summoning ghosts?"
Woojin nearly strangled him. "Joon, why are you here?"
Joon blinked at both of them, then glanced suspiciously at the floorboards they were standing too close to.
"Should I ask," Joon said slowly, "or pretend I didn't see anything again?"
Hana sighed. "Pretend."
Joon nodded. "Pretending!" He squinted at them. "But is everything… okay? You both look… tense. And weird. And suspicious. And—"
"Joon," Woojin groaned.
"Right, shutting up."
Hana forced herself to breathe, her senses still buzzing from the earlier presence. For a moment, she wondered if the Shadow Sect assassin had been watching before Joon disturbed their approach.
Too close.
They were getting too close.
"Hana." Woojin stepped closer, lowering his voice so Joon wouldn't hear. "What did you sense?"
She met his eyes in the darkness. "Someone was here. Someone watching."
Woojin's fingers curled. "The Sect?"
"Possibly."
He swallowed hard but didn't step back. Didn't waver.
Joon, completely unaware of the tension, placed his tea tray on a desk. "Well! Since I'm already here, I might as well give you the important news!"
Both Hana and Woojin stared at him.
Joon cleared his throat dramatically. "There's a new instructor joining tomorrow. Very high-ranking, sent from the capital. Everyone is whispering that he's connected to the royal court."
Woojin stiffened. "Why?"
"No idea! But apparently he insisted on arriving quietly tonight. Rumors say he's strict. And cold. And terrifying. And deadly handsome."
Hana's blood slowed. "Did you say he arrived tonight?"
"Yes," Joon chirped. "Just now, in fact. The guards opened the gates for him. He has two assistants with him—both very serious-looking. Why? Is that bad?"
Woojin looked at Hana sharply.
Hana's pulse didn't quicken. It stopped.
A high-ranking official.
Arriving secretly.
At night.
With two attendants.
That was no instructor.
That was a hunter.
Her voice came out flat. "He's not here to teach."
Woojin paled. "Hana…"
"They sent someone stronger." Her hands curled at her sides. "The Sect isn't just infiltrating. They're embedding."
Joon blinked. "I feel like I'm missing something."
"You are," Woojin said quickly.
Hana's dagger slid back into its sheath. There was no point fighting this tonight. She needed to retreat, observe, prepare.
"We're leaving," she said calmly.
Woojin nodded instantly, gathering his fallen lantern.
Joon opened his mouth to ask another question, but Hana simply placed a hand on his shoulder. "Joon."
"Yes?" he squeaked.
"If anyone you don't recognize approaches you tonight… run."
Joon froze. "I hate everything about that sentence."
Woojin pulled him toward the door. "Just go to your dorm. Lock your door. And don't be dramatic."
"I'm ALWAYS dramatic!" Joon protested as he disappeared into the corridor.
Hana stepped outside last. The night felt colder, the air sharper.
Woojin walked beside her again—close, steady, determined.
"Hana," he said quietly, "we're in danger, aren't we?"
She nodded. "Yes."
He swallowed. "And I'm staying."
She turned to him, eyes dark in the lantern's glow. "Woojin…"
"No." His voice shook, but his conviction didn't. "Don't try to send me away. Not tonight."
Hana looked at him. Really looked.
At the fear in his eyes.
The courage behind it.
The loyalty he didn't owe her.
The tenderness he never asked permission to feel.
Her heart tightened painfully.
"Then stay close," she whispered.
Woojin exhaled, a trembling breath of relief. "Always."
They walked into the darkness together—unaware that from the rooftop above, a figure cloaked in silver and black watched them with still, predatory eyes.
The new "instructor."
His lips curled faintly.
"So this is where you've been hiding," he murmured.
And the war truly began.