The cool evening breeze brushed against Mu-Deok's face as she stood near the edge of Songrim's lake. She looked down at her reflection, her usually sharp gaze now dulled by confusion. Jang-Uk's words echoed in her mind, replaying with relentless clarity:

"I miss you when you're not here."

Those simple words had shaken her more than any battle ever could. She had felt vulnerable—exposed in a way she wasn't used to. Her answer had been cruel, but it was the only way she could protect herself and him.

"Think of me as poison."

The moment the words left her lips, she had seen the pain flicker in Jang-Uk's eyes. Now she regretted it, but she couldn't take it back. A life spent in survival had taught her to keep her walls high. Letting Jang-Uk in would only make things more dangerous—for both of them.

Jang-Uk's sword struck the practice dummy with relentless force. Sweat poured down his face, and his arms ached from overexertion, but he didn't stop. Mu-Deok's words echoed in his mind.

"I am poisoning you."

No matter how hard he trained, he couldn't escape the sting of her rejection.

"Uk!" Dang-Gu's voice broke through the haze. He stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed.

"You're hacking at that dummy like it insulted you."

Jang-Uk ignored him and continued swinging. With a frustrated sigh, Dang-Gu walked over and grabbed his arm.

"Enough," Dang-Gu said. "What's going on?"

Jang-Uk dropped the sword, exhaustion catching up with him. "I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar," Dang-Gu said, but he let the subject drop—for now.

Flashback

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Songrim training grounds. Hae-Rin's hands trembled slightly as she nocked an arrow. Her heart raced—not from nerves over the target but from the presence of Seo Yul standing just behind her.

"Breathe," Seo Yul said, his calm voice cutting through her thoughts. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, adjusting her stance.

"You're too tense."

"I'm not tense," Hae-Rin shot back, though the blush on her cheeks said otherwise.

"Then prove it."

Hae-Rin released the arrow. It flew true but missed the bullseye by a narrow margin. Frustrated, she lowered the bow, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at him.

"You've improved a lot," Seo Yul reassured her. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than usual.

"You've grown stronger."

The compliment warmed her, but it also hurt. No matter how much she had improved, he only ever looked at her as a companion—never more.

Swallowing her emotions, Hae-Rin nodded and turned away before he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

Present Day

Seo Yul leaned against a tree, watching Hae-Rin spar with a younger mage. Her movements were sharp and precise, each strike landing with calculated power. She had grown in strength, her grace matched by fierce determination. For a fleeting moment, Seo Yul felt pride—and something else he couldn't quite name.

"She's come so far," he thought. But the moment was short-lived. His thoughts drifted to Mu-Deok, the ache in his chest returning.

"Why am I thinking about her now?" Seo Yul muttered.

"Focus."

As if sensing his distraction, Hae-Rin finished her sparring session and glanced his way. Their eyes met briefly, but Seo Yul quickly looked away. Hae-Rin's chest tightened at the sight. She had seen that same distant look in his eyes before.

Dang-Gu bounded into the common room later that day, holding a travel bag.

"Guess what I found?" he announced, grinning mischievously.

"What now?" Jang-Uk muttered, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

Dang-Gu held up a familiar whistle, its polished surface glinting under the lantern light.

Seo Yul's eyes widened. "That's... Naksu's whistle."

"Yes! The same one from before," Dang-Gu confirmed.

"Why does Mu-Deok have it?"

"I'll return it," Seo Yul said, stepping forward to take the whistle.

"Careful," Dang-Gu teased.

"You might accidentally confess your feelings if you're not careful."

Jang-Uk scowled, clearly agitated. "Enough."

Hae-Rin watched the scene unfold quietly, her gaze lingering on Seo Yul as he walked away. Her heart ached, but she kept her expression stoic. She didn't want anyone—especially Seo Yul—to know how deeply this affected her.

Hae-Rin stayed back, watching from a distance as Seo Yul approached Mu-Deok. Their conversation was too quiet to hear, but the sight of Seo Yul's gentle smile and Mu-Deok's softened expression made her chest tighten.

She couldn't deny the truth any longer—she was jealous. But it wasn't just jealousy. It was a mix of hurt, longing, and frustration. She had always admired Seo Yul's quiet strength, but now it felt like she was being left behind.

"She's just using him," Hae-Rin muttered under her breath. But even as she said it, she felt a pang of guilt. She didn't want to believe Mu-Deok was manipulative, but her emotions were clouding her judgment.

That evening, Jang-Uk sat by the lotus pond, lost in thought. The moon reflected off the water, casting a silvery glow over the scene. He didn't notice Hae-Rin's approach until she sat down beside him.

"You look miserable," Hae-Rin said, her tone half-teasing.

"Did someone steal your favorite meal?"

Jang-Uk managed a small smile. "Something like that."

They sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the night filling the air. Hae-Rin picked up a small stone and tossed it into the pond, watching the ripples spread.

"Love is complicated," she said softly.

Jang-Uk turned to her, surprised by the seriousness in her voice. "Are you giving me advice now?"

"I'm just saying... sometimes people push others away because they're afraid," Hae-Rin continued, her gaze distant.

"It doesn't mean they don't care."

Jang-Uk studied her for a moment, realizing there was more to her words than simple advice. But before he could ask, she stood up.

"Come on," Hae-Rin said, holding out her hand. "Let's spar. Maybe hitting me will help clear your head."

Jang-Uk chuckled despite himself and took her hand.

Later that night, Hae-Rin returned to her training room. She gripped her sword tightly, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. Seo Yul's distracted gaze from earlier haunted her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't reach him.

With a frustrated cry, she swung her sword, striking the practice dummy with all her strength. The wood splintered under her blows, but it did little to ease the ache in her chest. She wanted to scream, to tell Seo Yul everything she felt. But the words remained trapped inside her.

"I'm not that weak girl anymore," she told herself.

"I don't need anyone."

But the tears that followed said otherwise.

The stars glittered above Songrim, casting a soft glow over the training grounds. Hae-Rin sat alone under a cherry blossom tree, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn't escape.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence, and she didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"You're out late," Seo Yul said, sitting down beside her.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice unusually quiet.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the unspoken tension between them growing heavier by the second.

"Are you okay?" Seo Yul finally asked, his voice full of concern.

"I'm fine," Hae-Rin said too quickly.

Seo Yul didn't press, but his gaze lingered on her. "You seemed upset earlier."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hae-Rin—"

"I said I'm fine," she interrupted, her tone sharper than intended. She immediately regretted it.

They sat in silence again, the weight of their unspoken feelings pressing down on them.

"I just... wish you'd stop chasing things that aren't meant for you," Hae-Rin said softly, her words barely audible.

Seo Yul turned to her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

But as she stood to leave, the weight of her unspoken love followed her, heavy and unyielding.