The morning sun filtered through the sheer paper windows, washing the small room in a warm, amber glow. Hana sat cross-legged on the floor, her brush poised above an open page. The bristles hovered but did not touch the paper. Ink dripped slowly, forming small black dots like falling rain.
She hadn't written a single character.
Woojin watched her from the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. He had been standing there for a while, quietly, without interrupting her. His eyes were soft, but the crease between his brows showed the worry he tried to hide.
"You've been staring at that page for the past hour," he finally said.
Hana blinked, as if waking from a deep sleep.
"I'm thinking," she murmured.
"You're brooding," Woojin corrected gently, stepping inside. "There's a difference."
She shot him a small glare, but it had no real heat. Woojin sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"I'm not brooding," she insisted.
"Hana," he said slowly, "you're holding your brush upside down."
She looked down.
The brush was indeed upside down.
A breathy laugh escaped her, and Woojin relaxed a little. "See? Brooding."
"It's not brooding," she said again, softer this time. "It's just… I don't know where to start."
Her mind had been a storm ever since the attack at the marketplace and the secrets uncovered in the scholar's archives. She had been trying so hard to live quietly, to forge a future not defined by the blade she once wielded. But the past always had shadows long enough to touch the present.
Woojin reached out and gently turned her brush the right way up. "Start anywhere. Or don't start at all. It's fine."
"It's not fine." Hana shook her head. "Master Gwan expects my written analysis of the historical records by tomorrow. If I keep staring at this blank page, he'll think I'm losing my abilities."
Woojin gave a small smile. "He already knows you're brilliant. One delayed paper won't change that."
She didn't respond.
Woojin's smile faded. "Is this still about yesterday's message?"
Her fingers tightened around the brush. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Hana—"
"No."
Woojin exhaled slowly, accepting her boundary for now. "All right."
Silence settled between them again, the comfortable kind this time. Hana dipped the brush into the inkstone, then paused. "Can you… stay a little longer?" she asked without looking at him.
Woojin leaned back on his hands. "I wasn't planning on leaving."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
She finally began to write.
---
Later that afternoon, Hana walked across the training courtyard, her scholarly robes swaying around her ankles. The air smelled of pine and dust. Young students swung wooden swords under the supervision of instructors, their excited shouts echoing off the stone walls.
Woojin was with them, demonstrating a technique with a wooden staff. Hana paused at the edge of the yard, watching him.
He moved differently now—less like a warrior, more like a man who carried responsibility instead of rage. His strikes were firm, but controlled. His stance was precise, but gentle. A few months ago, he would've barked orders and demanded more power. Today, he corrected the students with patience.
Hana found herself smiling.
"Back again, Scholar Hana?" a voice teased behind her.
She turned to find Elder Ji, the old man who had taken great amusement in watching her navigate academy life. His robes were the same faded brown he'd worn since she met him.
"You enjoy watching him train," he said knowingly.
"I'm observing," Hana replied firmly.
"That's what we all call it at first."
Hana flushed. "Elder—"
He chuckled. "Relax. It's normal. The boy looks at you the same way, you know. Like you're holding a string tied to his ribs."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Woojin glanced her way, and when their eyes met, he brightened. He raised a hand in greeting, and Hana instinctively returned it with a small wave.
Elder Ji made a smug noise. "Mm. Definitely ribs."
Hana ignored him.
Woojin finished with the students and approached her, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Finished your writing?"
"Half," she admitted.
"That's progress."
She nodded. "Master Gwan said I can use the study hall tonight if I need to."
"I'll walk you there later."
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
She looked away to hide the smile she couldn't hold back.
---
That evening, the study hall was quiet except for the crackling of oil lamps. Hana worked on her manuscript while Woojin sat across from her, repairing the leather wrapping of his training staff. The silence between them was warm, like a shared blanket.
"You're staring again," Hana said without looking up.
"I'm not," Woojin replied.
"You are."
He didn't deny it this time. "You just… seem lighter today. I'm glad."
"Lighter?" Hana raised a brow. "I thought I was brooding."
"Earlier, yes. Now you look like yourself again."
She dipped her brush gently. "I'm trying."
"I know."
A gust of wind rattled the wooden shutters, and Woojin looked toward the window. "It's getting cold. Should I close that?"
"Yes, please."
He stood, securing the shutters. Hana watched him in the warm lamplight. His profile was calm, but the subtle tension in his shoulders told her he was worried about more than just the temperature.
When he sat back down, she asked quietly, "Are you still thinking about the message?"
Woojin didn't pretend otherwise. "I'm thinking about you."
Her heart slowed. "Woojin…"
"I know you don't want to talk about it yet," he said, voice low. "And I won't force you. But whatever it is, you're not facing it alone."
Her throat tightened.
For years, she'd faced everything alone—her missions, her fears, her guilt. But Woojin looked at her like she was someone worth protecting, not someone running from shadows.
"I'm not used to relying on anyone," she admitted.
"Then start with me."
Hana lowered her gaze. "I'm trying," she whispered. "I really am."
Woojin's expression softened. "I know."
The silence that followed was full and warm. Hana dipped her brush again.
This time, the words flowed.
---
Hours later, Hana finally set down her brush. "Done," she said with a sigh.
Woojin leaned forward to look at the pages she'd written. "Looks perfect."
"You didn't even read it."
"I don't need to. It's you."
Her cheeks grew warm. "You're flattering me."
"No," he said simply. "I'm telling the truth."
Hana closed her inkstone and began gathering her materials. "Walk me back?"
"I said I would."
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Woojin quietly reached for her hand. He didn't take it—just brushed his fingers against hers, seeking permission.
Hana hesitated only a moment before curling her fingers around his.
Woojin's breath caught.
Together, they walked through the lantern-lit courtyard.
For the first time in a long time, Hana felt her heart settling…
even though she sensed the calm would not last forever.
But tonight, she let herself enjoy the warmth beside her.
Just for now.