Seol-an lay staring at the wall, sleep refusing to come.
Her thoughts kept circling back to Kōin.
With a quiet breath, she rose and slid the door open. The night air brushed against her as she stepped outside, eyes lifting to the scattered stars above. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, drawing in what little warmth she could.
Then she heard it.
Mumbling.
Faint, distorted, slipping through the corridor like a whisper that did not belong. She followed the sound, steps light, heart slowly tightening.
It led her to Kōin's room.
Blood seeped from the narrow gaps beneath the door.
Seol-an's sapphire eyes blinked once. In that instant, the blood vanished, as if it had never been there.
She knew immediately what it was.
The Sea.
From inside the room, a voice spoke. Not Kōin's. Its tone carried judgment, cold and heavy, pressing down on the air itself.
Then another voice cut through it.
Kōin.
"Why is it a taboo to search for freedom?"
Silence followed.
Her heart dropped.
She threw the door open.
The stench of iron struck her first. Then she saw him.
Kōin lay there, eyes unfocused, crimson streaks staining his face and the bedding beneath him. Without hesitation, she rushed to his side, cradling his face in her hands. She pressed her palm to his chest, counting, listening, willing the rhythm to stay.
A heartbeat.
Still there.
His breathing was unsteady, but it was breathing.
Only then did she realize her hands were shaking.
She lowered her head to his chest.
It sounded wrong. Thick. As if his heartbeat echoed from beneath water. Slow but present.
Relief and fear tangled inside her.
She brushed his hair away from his face.
"Kōin?"
No response.
His eyes were open but empty, unfocused. Not seeing her. Not seeing anything in this room.
She glanced toward the hallway before sliding the door shut behind her, sealing the room in silence.
Carefully, she adjusted him, placing his head against her lap. Both of her hands moved to his temples, fingers steady despite the tremor in her arms.
You are truly troublesome.
Let me pull you out of that sea.
Seol-an closed her sapphire eyes.
She steadied her breathing the same way she did when she guided him through his dantian. Slow inhale. Gentle exhale. Her internal pathways opened, threads of energy extending outward until they brushed against his.
The connection formed.
Instantly, warmth flooded her.
No.
Not warmth.
Heat.
It surged through her like stepping into a spring bath turned too high, heavy and suffocating. Along with it came the metallic scent of iron, thick and unmistakable, filling her senses though the room itself was still.
His internal world was boiling.
And she had just stepped inside it.
She slowly opened her eyes.
Red.
It washed over her face like light through stained glass. The world was no longer wood walls and tatami floors.
It was crimson.
Sky and ground blended into an endless sea of red. Thick. Slow. Breathing.
There was no horizon. No wind. Only the metallic scent of iron saturating the air until it felt heavy in her lungs.
So this is his sea.
A ripple moved across the surface.
Not water.
Not liquid.
Something deeper. Something alive beneath it.
The red trembled.
Then it came.
CLANG.
The sound split the world apart.
Metal against metal.
It did not echo. It struck.
The force of it rippled through the sea, sending violent waves outward. The crimson surface churned as if a massive blade had been drawn across its depths.
Seol-an's gaze sharpened.
Somewhere within this endless red, something had moved.
And whatever it was, it had just drawn steel.
Seol-an forced herself forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the air itself resisted her presence. The crimson surface shifted beneath her feet, thick and viscous, swallowing her ankles before releasing them with a sickening pull.
The stench worsened.
At first it had only been iron. Sharp. Metallic. Familiar.
Now it was something else.
Rot.
An anemic reek, stale and suffocating, like blood left too long beneath a sun that never rose.
She lifted her sleeve to cover her nose and mouth, but it barely helped. The scent seeped through skin and breath alike.
Her vision swayed.
The horizon tilted.
Still she dragged herself forward.
The sea was not water. It was blood. Dense and warm around her calves now, clinging as if it wished to pull her under.
Then it came again.
CLANG.
The sound tore through the crimson expanse.
It was visceral. Not a simple strike of metal against metal. It was layered, chaotic. As if a thousand blades collided at once in violent disharmony.
The clashes came in brutal intervals. Slow. Then sudden. Then overlapping.
Each impact sent a shockwave rippling through the sea.
The surface burst outward in violent swells. Wind followed, unnatural and sharp, blasting against her body.
Her hairpin was ripped free.
It spun away into the red.
Her dark blue hair fell loose, fluttering wildly as another clash thundered through the world.
The waves rose higher.
The sound grew nearer.
Whatever was fighting in this sea was not far now.
And it was not losing.
She pushed forward until the ripples weakened.
Then stopped.
She had crossed the point where the waves were born.
There.
The source.
Kōin stood upon the surface of the blood sea. It clung to him, dripping from his clothes, running down his arms, sliding from strands of gray hair matted dark with red. Sweat cut pale trails through the blood coating his skin.
He was breathing hard.
In front of him stood the other.
Black attire she did not recognize. Skin pale and drained, almost corpse like. Dark hair unmoving in the wind. Pitch black pupils that swallowed every reflection.
It stood casually.
Hands relaxed at its sides.
Not a stance.
Not tension.
As if this was not a battle at all.
Kōin, in contrast, was already in a defensive posture. Shoulders tight. Weight lowered. Breath uneven.
Seol-an froze.
Is he truly challenging that?
Even she would hesitate before her own demon.
The pale figure tilted its head slightly.
Then it spoke.
"You know that you can't defeat me, right?"
Kōin's teeth ground together so hard the sound cut through the wind.
"Defeating you has been my wish for a long time."
The pale figure did not flinch. Its black pupils remained fixed on him, measuring. Judging.
"Without me," it said calmly, "you would already be dead."
"Being dead is better than whatever piece of shit you forced me to become."
The words tore out of him, raw and shaking.
It was the first time Seol-an had ever seen him like this. Not cold. Not controlled. Not distant.
Angry.
Truly angry.
"Without me, Yasuzu and Yashizuka—"
"Do not you dare mention their names."
The sea trembled beneath his roar.
The figure's expression did not change.
"They would be dead. Without me you would not have laid a single scratch on the raiders who assaulted our lands."
Kōin's jaw tightened again, a faint creak escaping as his teeth threatened to crack.
"Without me," the figure continued, voice still level, "you would be me. Captured. Forced to watch your family be torn apart by those so called men."
The crimson sky darkened.
"You think without me you are free? Everything you learned. Every technique. Every instinct that kept you breathing. It all came from me."
Kōin's fists trembled at his sides.
"And you still want to kill me?"
Kōin drove his feet deeper into the blood sea. It swallowed him to the ankles, then steadied as if obeying his stance.
His face twisted with open malice.
The figure remained motionless. Calm. Unmoved.
"You learned everything you know from me," Kōin spat.
The figure stepped once.
It was already in front of him.
Close enough that their breaths should have touched.
"But you do not know everything about me."
Kōin clicked his tongue.
A mirage split from him in a flash, blade carving through the space where the figure stood.
Empty.
The pale figure was already behind him.
Seol-an saw it before Kōin did.
A thin red line appeared across his torso.
Then it opened.
Blood burst outward, splattering into the sea as Kōin staggered, chest torn open.
"You do not even know how to use Shroud properly."
"Kah—"
"Kōin!"
The sound tore from her throat before she could stop it.
Kōin's head snapped toward her voice.
"Senior broth—"
The figure was in front of him again.
"Where are your eyes focusing?"
SLCK.
The sound was wet. Clean.
Kōin screamed.
"AHHHHKKK!"
The blade had carved across his eyes.
Blood poured down his face as darkness swallowed his vision.
"KŌIN!"
The figure seized Kōin by the hair while he clutched at his ruined eyes, blood pouring between his fingers.
Seol-an felt her breath stop.
SCRZK.
The short blade drove through his throat.
It pierced cleanly through his adam apple and out the back of his neck.
Kōin's body jerked violently. A choked, broken sound tried to escape him but only wet gurgling followed.
"Honestly," the figure said, voice calm near his ear, "being in this sect has made you weak. Considerably weak."
Kōin trembled in its grip, hands slackening as blood streamed down his chest.
"Hesitation is defeat. Did you not learn that the first time you remembered me?"
The blade was ripped free.
Blood erupted outward in a crimson arc, spraying across the sea like a fountain.
Seol-an screamed and lunged forward.
But the sea thickened instantly beneath her.
It turned dense, heavy, swallowing her legs to the knees like hardened paste. No matter how she forced her strength downward, her feet would not move an inch.
"KŌIIIINNN!"
Her voice cracked through the crimson sky.
The figure let Kōin's body drop.
He collapsed into the blood sea, sinking slowly as if it welcomed him home.
Seol-an froze.
A sharp buzzing began to crawl through her skull, thin at first, then louder. It vibrated behind her eyes, inside her teeth.
She clamped her hands over her ears.
You let him die.
The voice was not one. It was many.
Why?
He was your junior.
Why did you fail him, Seol-an?
Answer us.
ANSWER.
Her breathing fractured. The sea tightened around her legs, colder now. Heavier. The whispers overlapped, accusing, relentless.
Her eyes lifted.
The figure stood there.
It glanced at her only briefly. A sideways look. Indifferent. As if she were nothing more than debris drifting in someone else's storm.
Then its gaze returned to the blood where Kōin had sunk.
A bubble rose.
Then another.
The surface swelled outward.
A hand burst through.
Seol-an's heart lurched.
Kōin dragged himself up from the sea, whole.
No torn chest. No blinded eyes. No pierced throat.
Blood poured from his mouth as he coughed violently, expelling thick crimson from his lungs. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and lifted his head.
His gaze locked onto the pale figure again.
Steady.
Burning.
"How many times," he rasped, voice rough but clear, "have I killed you?"
"You can kill me thousands of times here," Kōin said, blood still dripping from his chin. "Millions. I will still stand up and fight you again."
His fists tightened.
"But let Senior Brother out of this."
The pale figure crossed its arms.
"Selfless, are we?"
Its tone was almost curious.
Then it shook its head once.
"Unfortunately for you, they entered this realm by their own consent. They came to save you."
A smirk tugged at its lips.
Kōin froze.
That expression did not belong on that face.
Kagemiya had never smirked. Not once. Not even in cruelty. He had always been cold. Flat. Certain.
This was different.
"You are very fortunate," the figure continued softly, "to have companions like them."
The words curled.
"Will you abandon them again like you abandoned your family?"
The sea went still.
Not a ripple.
Not a breath.
Kōin's expression changed.
The anger did not flare.
It dropped.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
"I know why you want to defeat me."
The figure bent slightly at the waist, hands resting there in mock courtesy, looking down at Kōin as though indulging a child.
"You want to join them. You want to open your dantian so you can pretend you are one of them."
It seized Kōin by the hair and yanked his head back. Kōin winced, breath hissing through his teeth.
"You do not want me interrupting your pathetic little peace game called meditation."
Both hands shot to Kōin's throat.
They tightened.
"Kh—ccck—"
"KŌIN! LET GO OF HIM!"
Seol-an struggled against the sea, but it held her fast.
The figure's composure shattered.
"As if peace was ever in the FUCKING BOOK OF DICTIONARY!"
Its voice thundered across the crimson sky.
Kōin's face darkened, veins standing out along his neck as the grip tightened.
"Since when did peace save MY SISTER? Since WHEN did PEACE help us from the pain?"
The sea roared in response.
"You see all of this?"
It forced Kōin's head downward toward the endless ocean of red.
"DO YOU NOT SEE IT? THIS FUCKING SEA IS THE BLOOD WE SPILLED!"
The words cracked.
Not calm.
Not measured.
Raw.
It slammed its forehead against Kōin's, temple to temple, eye to eye. The black pupils trembled with something that was no longer stoic control.
"In what life do you think you get to claim yourself something else?"
Its breath shook.
"Student? Friend? Junior?"
A harsh laugh broke out, brittle and unsteady.
"Do not make me laugh. We are not made for that."
The grip tightened again.
"All we are… is a machine. A perfect killing machine wrapped in flesh."
CRACK.
Kōin's neck snapped sideways.
His body went limp.
The figure released him with a scoff, letting the corpse fall back into the sea. The blood swallowed him instantly, remaking him beneath its surface as if death were nothing more than a reset.
And the figure stood there breathing hard.
For the first time, it was not emotionless.
The figure turned away from the place where Kōin's body was reforming.
It looked at Seol-an.
Every bone in her spine felt like it cracked with cold.
Her hair stood on end.
Its black pupils fixed on her.
"Wake up. He has lost too much blood."
Her mind stalled.
"H… huh?"
The crimson sky shattered.
The sea vanished.
The stench of iron snapped away like a cut thread.
She was back in the dorm room.
Tatami beneath her knees.
Paper walls.
Cold night air.
Kōin's body convulsed in her lap.
He rolled to the side, choking violently, blood spilling from his mouth as he coughed and gasped for air.
Her breath caught.
Seol-an grabbed him immediately, steadying his shoulders, pulling him upright. She pressed her palm against his chest, eyes shutting as she reached inward.
His pathways.
She searched for them.
Nothing.
Her heart nearly stopped.
They were gone.
All she felt was red. Drowned. Flooded.
It was as if his entire inner network had been submerged in that sea.
Panic clawed at her ribs.
No.
Wait.
There.
Faint.
They were not destroyed.
They were buried.
Submerged under something thick and suffocating, but still there.
Still intact.
Just… drowned in blood.
Seol-an steadied her breathing, forcing her racing thoughts into control.
Kōin's face darkened toward purple as he choked, fingers clawing weakly at his own throat.
The image replayed in her mind.
His neck snapping.
His body falling.
The sea swallowing him whole.
Her breath stuttered.
She had to drain the blood drowning his pathways.
She had to.
But how?
What if she did it wrong?
What if she ruptured something deeper?
What if he died right here in her arms?
Her thoughts spiraled.
Doubt crept in.
His grip on her sleeve weakened.
His fingers slipped.
Seol-an's sapphire eyes trembled, the light in them flickering.
Not like this.
Not after he fought so hard.
Not after he chose not to kill.
Her jaw tightened.
Fear could come later.
Regret could come later.
Right now he was breathing.
Barely.
She shifted him upright, one arm locking behind his back to keep him from collapsing. Her other hand pressed firmly over his heart while she guided her own energy forward.
Carefully.
Slowly.
She did not try to force the blood out.
She created a current.
A pull.
Like opening a narrow channel in a flooded river.
Her pathways flared bright, connecting to his again, and she began drawing the excess out in controlled strands instead of letting it suffocate him.
Kōin convulsed, coughing violently as dark blood spilled from his mouth onto the floor.
"Breathe," she whispered, voice shaking but firm. "You are not dying here."
Another surge.
Another cough.
His pulse fluttered wildly beneath her palm.
Her vision blurred from strain, but she held the current steady.
Not like this.
She would not lose him.
...
Hours later.
Kōin slowly opened his eyes.
Warmth.
Softness.
His vision cleared enough to realize his head was resting on Senior Brother Seol-an's lap.
…!
He nearly jolted upright before stopping himself.
Seol-an was asleep.
Still in the same posture from before, leaning against the wall awkwardly, exhaustion finally dragging him down after hours of strain.
Kōin remembered.
The sea.
Senior Brother invading it.
That thing.
His chest tightened.
Slowly, carefully, Kōin tried to move Seol-an down onto the bed before pausing.
The futon was stained dark red.
Blood.
His blood.
A lot of it.
His expression softened slightly.
Instead, he adjusted himself and carefully returned the favor, easing Seol-an's head onto his own lap.
Weird.
The feeling was incredibly weird.
No one had ever slept trusting him like this before.
No one had ever stayed beside him this long either.
Kōin looked down quietly.
Seol-an's long dark blue hair had loosened during the night. A few strands rested over his face. Kōin awkwardly brushed them aside, fingers careful as if afraid he would break something fragile.
He was reckless.
Invading the sea like that…
What if he had drowned there?
What if that thing decided to kill him too?
Kōin lowered his gaze.
"Please do not do that again…"
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Then he looked toward the window.
Morning mist was beginning to form outside, pale and quiet.
Senior Brother must have exhausted himself helping him.
Kōin exhaled softly.
And despite everything, despite the blood, despite the fear, despite the sea still clawing at the corners of his mind…
He smiled.
Later, Seol-an woke up.
Soft bedding.
Familiar scent.
Her room?
She jolted upright instantly.
Memories flooded back. Kōin. The sea. The blood. Exhaustion swallowing her whole after pulling him out.
Her sharp sapphire eyes immediately swept across the room, instinctively searching for the slightest disturbance.
Nothing looked touched.
Nothing looked searched through.
Did Kōin know?
Did he realize she was a girl?
No.
No, that could not be it.
She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself.
He probably just carried me here.
That is all.
She nodded once, convincing herself.
Kōin was not the type to pry into someone's secrets. If anything, he guarded secrets more fiercely than anyone she knew.
She pushed herself off the bed and walked toward the mirror.
Then she stopped.
"…Ah."
She looked terrible.
Her hair was loose and disheveled, dark blue strands falling wildly over her shoulders. Her eyes carried deep exhaustion beneath them. The bindings around her chest had loosened slightly from sleep.
A complete mess.
…
Her eyes slowly shifted toward the mirror itself.
Silence.
Then both hands covered her face.
"Oh no."
Her thoughts stalled.
"Oh no."
There was a mirror.
Inside her room.
A very obvious mirror.
No boys kept mirrors in their rooms.
At least not like this.
Her shoulders stiffened.
This was a dead giveaway.
She could already imagine Kōin quietly noticing it, staring for exactly three seconds, then internally piecing together the entire truth with that terrifyingly observant assassin mind of his.
Seol-an groaned softly into her palms.
"I am finished…"
Seol-an searched the entire sect.
Courtyard.
Training grounds.
Junior disciple quarters.
Nothing.
…Where is he?
He was not with the other juniors. Saikan had not seen him either. Even the kitchen disciples shook their heads when she asked.
That only left one place.
She made her way toward Grandmaster Ji-ho's office and slid the door open.
Immediately she spotted Kōin standing beside Ji-ho carrying a stack of scrolls nearly up to his face.
His eyes had dark bags beneath them.
Yet he still wore that strange forced smile. Or perhaps it was not a smile at all. Just an expression he thought people expected from him.
Then his crimson eyes met hers.
He smiled softly.
Seol-an stiffened.
Did he know?
Did he see something last night?
Did he realize she was a girl?
"Look who finally decided to wake up," Ji-ho said without looking up from the scroll in his hands. "You even missed breakfast."
Kōin was apparently serving as Ji-ho's assistant for the week as punishment for letting the intruders escape.
The Grandmaster continued sorting through documents. Some bore seals from neighboring sects while others carried imperial markings.
"It is rare seeing you wake up late, Seol-an," Ji-ho mused. "Something must have happened."
Kōin quietly closed his eyes for a second.
That tiny reaction alone made Ji-ho's suspicion sharpen instantly.
The old master slowly lowered the scroll.
Then he looked between the two disciples.
"Tell me," he said calmly. "What happened between you two?"
Seol-an fell into a slight stupor.
The memory of herself entering Kōin's room in the middle of the night suddenly replayed in full detail.
Her face warmed immediately.
"Ah… oh… it was nothing. I was only wondering where Disciple Kōin was."
Ji-ho's brush stopped mid stroke against the scroll.
"Hm."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"That is oddly specific. You usually do not pay this much attention to the other disciples."
"Ahmm… umm…"
Seol-an's composure, usually flawless, was visibly crumbling.
Then Kōin spoke.
"Senior Brother helped with my nightmares, Grandmaster Ji-ho. That is why he woke up late. It was because of me."
Seol-an blinked.
He.
He called her he.
Her thoughts halted.
Does he know?
Or does he not?
She glanced toward Kōin.
His expression looked normal. Calm. Quiet. Carrying scrolls like nothing had happened.
No teasing.
No strange look.
No hidden smirk.
Just those tired crimson eyes meeting hers briefly before looking away again.
Ji-ho leaned back slightly, observing the strange tension between them with growing suspicion.
"…Nightmares again?" the Grandmaster asked.
Kōin nodded once.
"I apologize."
"Stop apologizing every three breaths," Ji-ho muttered.
Kōin immediately closed his mouth.
Seol-an almost laughed from the absurd timing before stopping herself.
Her thoughts were still spiraling.
He said "he."
So maybe he really did not know.
…Right?
Seol-an bowed quickly to her Grandmaster before leaving the room a little faster than usual.
The door slid shut.
Silence lingered for a moment.
Ji-ho slowly turned his gaze toward Kōin.
"Is there truly nothing you two are hiding from me?"
Kōin blinked.
Then genuinely looked upward slightly, as if searching through his own memories to verify the answer properly.
After a few seconds, he shook his head.
"No, Grandmaster."
Ji-ho scoffed quietly.
The boy looked painfully sincere.
Still…
Something was off with Seol-an.
The first thing she did after waking up was search for Kōin across the entire sect.
Not training.
Not breakfast.
Not her duties.
Kōin.
Ji-ho narrowed his eyes thoughtfully while Kōin continued organizing scrolls beside him completely unaware.
…This fool is oblivious.
Then again, they were still teenagers.
Ji-ho exhaled through his nose and returned to reading.
He would not interfere unless something actually happened.
Though admittedly, watching Seol-an, of all people, lose composure this badly was strangely entertaining.
The day continued.
But Seol-an could not focus on anything.
Every few minutes her thoughts circled back to the same question.
Does Kōin know?
During training she missed steps.
During lectures she answered half a second too late.
Even during lunch she barely touched her food.
The disciples around her slowly began noticing.
"You alright, Seol-an?" one senior brother asked cautiously. "You look like you survived the Imperial War."
"Hah? Me? I am fine." She paused. "…Uhh, I do not know."
The entire table went silent.
Then another disciple slowly lowered his chopsticks.
"…Wow."
"What?"
"I have lived here four years and this is the first time I have seen Seol-an distressed."
Another disciple immediately leaned forward with interest.
"And he is pouting too."
"S Shut up!"
That only made them stare harder.
Seol-an realized too late that her cheeks were slightly puffed in frustration.
One of them pointed dramatically.
"He admitted it!"
"I admitted nothing!"
"Who is it?" another asked excitedly. "Is it a girl?"
"Someone you like?"
Seol-an nearly choked on air.
"WHAT?"
Several disciples jumped at the volume.
Meanwhile at the far end of the courtyard, Kōin was carrying a stack of scrolls past the lunch area.
He blinked once toward the commotion.
Then kept walking.
Completely unaware the entire conversation was accidentally orbiting around him.
A disciple leaned toward his friend and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Definitely a girl."
"Yeah. No way it is anything else."
"It is not!" Seol-an snapped immediately. "I swear, you idiots, it is not!"
The table stared at him.
Then they slowly looked at each other.
And burst into laughter.
"Oh, celestial heavens above, BELIEVE ME!"
"Look at him panic!"
"He is finished."
"Our Senior Brother finally got struck by romance."
"I said it is NOT romance!"
Another disciple wiped tears from his eyes from laughing too hard.
"You even skipped lunch over it!"
"That is because I am stressed!"
"Exactly!"
Seol-an nearly slammed his forehead into the table.
Meanwhile nearby, Kōin quietly passed carrying another pile of scrolls taller than his face.
One of the disciples suddenly pointed.
"…Wait."
The whole table slowly turned toward Kōin.
Kōin stopped walking.
Blink.
"…What?"
The disciples looked between the exhausted Seol-an and the sleep deprived Kōin standing there carrying scrolls.
Silence.
Then several of them gasped dramatically all at once.
Seol-an's soul nearly left his body.
"IT IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK."
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Then exploded.
"AIN'T NO WAAAYYYYYY!"
"I SHOULD HAVE NOTICED!"
"IT IS NOT LIKE THAT, PLEASE BELIEVE ME!"
"BROTHER SEOL-AN YOU WERE INTO JUNIOR DISCIPLE KŌI—"
WHACK!
Seol-an slapped a hand over the disciple's mouth so fast the poor man nearly fell backward.
"SHUT UP! NO! IT IS NOT LIKE THAT! AAAARGHHH!"
Meanwhile Kōin stood there completely lost.
What the hell is happening?
"You!" one disciple pointed dramatically.
Kōin blinked.
"Me?"
"Yes, you! What happened?! Tell us!"
"Yeah!"
Kōin looked around at the expectant faces.
Then toward Seol-an whose sapphire eyes looked seconds away from imploding.
No.
No no no no.
He is too honest.
He is going to say it.
He is going to tell them I went to his room.
THIS MUST NEVER LEAVE THIS COURTYARD.
"Oh, that. Brother Se—"
BASH!
A chopstick wrapped in blue chi shot across the courtyard like a divine projectile and nailed Kōin directly in the temple.
The scrolls exploded from his arms.
Kōin collapsed instantly.
Dead silent.
Seol-an stood frozen with one arm still extended from throwing the chopstick.
His ragged breathing slowly stopped.
…
"…Ah."
One disciple stared.
Another slowly pointed at the unconscious Kōin.
"You killed him."
"I DID NOT!"
"He was about to expose everything!"
"THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPOSE!"
Several disciples immediately gasped louder.
"SO THERE IS SOMETHING!"
"NOOOOOOO!"
A sudden gust of wind swept through the dining hall.
The doors slid open.
Grandmaster Ji-ho entered.
Instant silence.
Every disciple straightened instantly like spears planted into the earth.
Ji-ho's eyes swept the room once before landing on the unconscious Kōin sprawled across the floor with a red mark on his forehead.
Scrolls were scattered everywhere.
Yet even unconscious, the boy still stubbornly clutched several of them to his chest.
Ji-ho's eye twitched faintly.
The lingering trace of Seol-an's blue chi still floated in the air.
"…Seol-an."
"Yes, G Grandmaster."
Ji-ho sighed deeply.
"You are responsible for him. Get him treated. Your punishment will come after his punishment is finished."
"Y Yes, Grandmaster."
Seol-an immediately rushed forward and carefully lifted Kōin into a princess carry.
The entire dining hall stared.
A faint blush spread across Seol-an's cheeks the moment he realized exactly how this looked.
One disciple slowly elbowed another.
The other silently nodded back with widened eyes.
They noticed.
They absolutely noticed.
Ji-ho's voice cut through the room before the gossip could erupt.
"What is with this funeral silence? Training starts at sunrise. Finish eating and move."
"YES, GRANDMASTER!"
The disciples immediately shouted back.
Seol-an escaped the dining hall at maximum speed carrying the unconscious Kōin while the disciples behind him looked moments away from combusting from contained laughter and theories.