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The lines of soldiers took turns firing at the targets, first the closer ones, then the farther ones as the rounds progressed.

Many of the soldiers fell away after the first few rounds, and the number of still qualified competitors was thinning out and dangerously dwindling by the 14th round.

Jisung was qualified with ease at first, the bow light in his hands and the silver arrow swift as it pierced its circular bright red mark in the middle of the wooden plaque. But occasionally, a deep pang of nervousness echoed through the hollow of his stomach, and he swallowed as his breathing became heavier.

His purpose was the only thing etched into his mind as he stared at the targets, the whizzing of the arrows filling his ears, the dull thud or the absence thereof when the arrow either hit its mark or flew past, and the target and competitor were both removed from the field.

The thought haunted Jisung as the thud of victory at the end of the whizzing never came and another soldier's head dropped, his feet dragging and his fingers curled around his bow in regret as he was escorted off the field: That could be him.

But Jisung clenched his jaw and fastened his grip around his own bow, not out of regret, but with determination as his brother and King's face flashed through his mind.

He would not fail.

Jisung whispered a prayer as he stepped up, not to the gods of Astrea, but to his own shrines which he had left behind in his homeland. "May they sharpen my sight and steady my hand," he breathed, less shakily than he expected but with more trembling than he would have liked.

Bringing a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, he glanced up at the relentless sun, beating down on him and making the air thick and humid. He tried to breathe again, but it seemed as if the air would not come, his lungs expanding and contracting in vain.

As he raised his bow, drawing back the arrow and preparing to shoot for his place, he made the mistake of glancing above him to the platform at his left, where the Royal Family was seated, watching over the competition silently.

Princess Luna stared back into his eyes blankly, with a fierce and scrutinizing gaze, her own eyes cold and indifferent. Slightly lifting her chin, she watched Jisung, and a spark of interest was ignited at the sight of his determination. The corners of her mouth lifted under her veil in an amused smirk before she turned to her father, whispering something in the King's ear.

Jisung tore his eyes away from the Princess, licking his lips and tasting the saltiness as his resolve was hardened. He squinted at the target, trying to steady the bow in his shaking hands. 

A deep breath was taken, a last silent plea prayed before he fired, releasing the arrow on its course.

A hollow thud resounded as the sharp tip of the arrow was buried into its wooden target, coming to rest in the middle of the red bullseye.

A choir of cheers lifted from the audience and from Chan and his friends, most of whom had already disqualified but still wore bright smiles to congratulate Jisung on his small victory.

"Atta boy, Jisung!"

"Good job!"

Then, a taunt from another soldier who obviously favored another contestant.

"Show him, Seungmin!"

Startled by the sudden mention of a familiar name, Jisung whipped around to find Kim Seungmin beside him, still in the lineup. The new recruit was so focused on keeping himself qualified that he hadn't noticed the younger was still qualified as well. 

But the stolen glances towards the overlooking platform above them, followed by shy glances at the ground as the brunette watched his feet told Jisung that he shouldn't be surprised the soldier made it this far — Seungmin had more than one reason to win this competition.

The booming voice of the Captain thundered through the playing field as he listed off a few names, a sigh of relief escaping Jisung when his name was not on the list of those now disqualified. 

Although he had seen his arrow pierce the red-painted wood with his own eyes, he held his breath. The last few rounds had been close calls, as now only the best of the best were left, and he had been up against some of the greatest archers in the guard, somehow hanging on to his qualification by a thread.

"The remaining contestants are Kim Seungmin and Han Jisung," 

The Captain's revelation made Jisung audibly gasp, and he turned to glance at the soldier by his side. Seungmin was wearing a similar expression of surprise as the owners of the listed names stepped off the field and left the two alone. 

"Archers, prepare to play for the final round."

Jisung gulped, his hands sweating as he watched Seungmin step up and ready his bow. 

The determined brunette raised the drawn arrow to his eye, taking aim.

It was almost a perfect shot, the arrow landing on the outer perimeter of the red painted bullseye, but Jisung heard the young soldier curse under his breath. Seungmin's hand tightened around the bow and he clenched his jaw, staring at where the arrow had landed in the distance, the regret and frustration swirling in his dark eyes.

Watching Seungmin for another moment, Jisung felt his heart aching in his chest with pity, and his brows furrowed. He wanted to comfort Seungmin, but neither of them would have another chance, and Seungmin had just wasted his. He had to brush away the pang of sympathy he felt  for the younger and square his shoulders, remembering that they were opponents, going head to head.

Stepping up to shoot next, his arrow to be the final one of the competition, Jisung felt a light hand on his shoulder. Making eye contact with Seungmin, the younger soldier whispered his name, only a few syllables but bearing the weight of his pleading thoughts. 

"Jisung..."

Another of Seungmin's quick, implicative glances up to the platform told him everything. 

He followed Seungmin's eyes, lifting his gaze to see Princess Luna sitting elegantly but emotionless, her hands delicately folded in her lap as she looked over the field, her veil fluttering in the light breeze that first cooled the soldiers before sweeping across the spectators.

Jisung bit the inside of his cheek, fully understanding the unspoken request.

The brunette took once last glance at the older, his pupils wavering in desperation as he pressed his lips together, knowing that nothing else needed to be said.

Seungmin was asking Jisung to purposely lose for the sake of his image, so he could win in front of the Princess.