Cold Water, Warm Blood
Sleep did not grant mercy.
Seo Yul woke before dawn, not because the sect demanded it, but because his lungs did. They clenched too quickly; the body fought itself awake as if drowning in shallow air. He sat up slowly, letting the thin mattress sigh beneath him.
The dormitory was still half-dark. The other disciples slept in uneven rows some snored, some curled in on themselves, some sprawled with the entitlement of strength. A brazier glowed faintly, spitting a whisper of warmth that did nothing to soften the cold stone floor.
Yul pulled himself to standing. His knees complained. His breath stuttered. The weakness was a leash, but even leashes could be used to measure distance.
He stepped outside.
The morning air was sharp with mountain cold, the kind that knifed straight through ribs and made the world feel cleaner than it deserved. A faint grayness rested on the horizon where dawn had not yet chosen a color. The sect bell had not rung, which meant he had time the most valuable currency.
He walked down the narrow path toward the riverbank where juniors fetched water at sunrise. Each step was slow, controlled, a negotiation. He moved like a student; his mind moved like a general preparing a siege.
Water roared faintly ahead.
Perfect.
The river was fed directly by a spring higher on the mountain. Even in summer it bit with winter teeth. Disciples used it to temper their bodies, strengthen lungs, and build pain tolerance. But only the strong those who already had muscle to shield them.
Seo Yul had none.
He knelt at the river's edge. The water misted against his face, cold enough to sting.
He cupped his hands and poured icy water over his chest.
His breath vanished.
His heart spasmed.
Good.
The body rebelled. Yul closed his eyes, riding the panic like a horse refusing a cliff.
If you fear losing breath… you must learn to meet it first.
He repeated the exercise. Once. Twice. Five times. By the tenth splash his arms shook so violently the water scattered before reaching him. His chest heaved in ragged, shallow attempts that barely counted as breathing.
He stood only when his fingers numbed to bone.
Weakness was a map, too. And he intended to redraw it.
As he straightened, a crunch of gravel announced another presence.
A small figure, barely up to his shoulder, stepped hesitantly down the path. The boy from last night. The one who trembled when accepting a strip of dried meat.
The boy froze when he saw Yul. "S-Senior… Seo Yul?"
Yul tilted his head. "You have water duty this morning?"
The junior nodded rapidly, clutching an empty bucket as if it weighed as much as a boulder. His lip was split fresh. Someone had struck him again.
Yul's eyes drifted down, cataloguing the signs. The bruise. The limp. The fear.
Useful.
But his voice was soft when he spoke. "Come here."
The boy moved closer, cautious but drawn in by something he didn't understand.
Seo Yul lifted the wooden bucket and knelt by the river. His muscles protested, but he lowered the bucket into the water with careful steadiness. When he lifted it out, his arms nearly buckled yet he kept his expression serene.
He handed the brimming bucket to the boy.
"You don't have to fear everything," Yul said, tone light as falling ash. "Just the right things."
The boy stared at him with round, confused gratitude. "Th-thank you, Senior…"
"Not Senior." Yul smiled, soft and perfectly harmless. "Just Yul."
The boy nodded shyly, clutching the bucket with new determination. He began to climb the path back toward the sect hall.
Yul watched him go.
Another piece placed.
Another string gently looped around a future throat.
Behind him, footsteps cracked the quiet heavier, confident, impatient.
Hosan.
Of course.
Senior Brother Kang Hosan strode toward him, jaw set, shoulders squared with the natural arrogance of someone strong enough to never question their place in the world. "Seo Yul," he barked. "Why are you awake before the bell? The weak need more sleep, not less."
Yul bowed politely. "Senior Brother. I could not sleep further."
Hosan snorted. "Of course you couldn't. Useless bodies never rest well." His eyes narrowed at the dampness on Yul's clothes. "Were you bathing in the river?"
"Yes, Senior."
"In this cold?" Hosan grabbed Yul's wrist, squeezing hard enough to bruise. "Trying to act disciplined does not make you disciplined. It makes you stupid."
Yul lowered his gaze. "I will remember that."
Hosan shoved him back, satisfied with the obedience. "Good. Morning drills are in half an hour. Don't embarrass yourself like yesterday."
He walked away, cloak fluttering behind him like a banner of thoughtless victory.
Seo Yul straightened his wrist, staring at the faint marks.
They were small.
Temporary.
Easy to repay.
He turned to the river one last time, letting the cold air fill his lungs in thin, trembling lines.
Humiliation in the morning. A lesson by noon. A debt by dusk.
The day was already beginning.
And Seo Yul would spend it well.