Qian's sword gleamed under the light.
Not just sharp plus..
*hungry.*
It felt like a blade that had tasted blood too many times… and was still waiting for more.
He looked at me.
Then at the wooden sword in my hand.
Then back at me.
As if expecting something.
A reaction.
A protest.
Anything.
I gave him nothing.
A slow smile spread across his lips.
Without a word, he shifted his grip on the sword.
The servant returned, head lowered, movements careful, almost reverent. She wrapped the blade in cloth without letting her skin touch it, as if even contact carried danger.
Then she took it away.
Qian stood there.
Unarmed.
He glanced at me, amused.
"Fair enough?" he asked.
The crowd erupted.
Cheers exploded from every direction,loud, wild, completely one-sided.
For him.
Always for him.
I looked down at my sword.
Wood.
Blunt.
Pathetic.
Something in me tightened.
Pride.
Before I could even think, my grip shifted-ready to throw it aside-
A voice brushed against my ear.
Low.
Close.
"I wouldn't do that… if I were you."
My body stiffened.
*When did he get here?*
I swung.
Instinct.
The wooden blade cut toward him-
--and stopped.
His hand had caught it.
Bare.
My eyes widened.
The force behind my strike should've pushed him back--
but he didn't move.
Not even an inch.
The impact traveled back into me instead.
My feet slid.
My balance broke slightly as I stepped back, raising the sword again.
He adjusted his grip on the blade.
Casually.
Like it meant nothing.
Then he looked at me.
Straight into my eyes.
"Is that all you've got?"
That smirk.
Something snapped.
I moved.
No hesitation.
No thought.
Just--
*forward.*
My foot drove into the ground.
Force surged through my body.
The wooden sword followed---
cutting through the air with full intent.
Not testing.
Not holding back.
A strike.
Clean.
Direct.
Qian moved.
Barely.
The blade missed him by a breath.
His body lowered, almost grazing the ground-yet his balance never broke.
I didn't stop.
Didn't give him space.
Another strike-
faster-
sharper-
He shifted again.
Minimal.
Precise.
Always just out of reach.
I pushed harder.
My movements tightened, sharpened, each swing carrying more weight, more intent.
*Then-*
He was gone.
My strike cut through empty air.
"Where-"
A breath.
Warm.
Close.
"Not bad… dear."
Right behind me.
I turned instantly-
swung-
Too late.
Something struck my stomach.
Not heavy.
Not brutal.
But...
perfect.
All the air left my lungs.
My body folded.
Knees hit the ground.
I tried to move.
To rise.
To strike again...!
Nothing.
My body wouldn't respond.
Qian stood in front of me.
Close.
But unreachable.
I could see him clearly.
Too clearly.
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Measured.
Then leaned down...
His fingers touched my chin.
Light.
Unexpectedly gentle.
He lifted my face.
Just enough.
"How..."
His voice stopped.
I blinked.
Confused.
What…?
His eyes weren't on mine anymore.
They had dropped lower.
I followed them.
Blood.
A thin line, dark and slow, trailing down.
"…I'm bleeding?"
I hadn't even felt it.
His hand,still holding my chin,
trembled.
Just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
"…Wait."
His voice was different now.
Lower.
Unsteady.
"You're… bleeding."
I stared at him.
*Is he… worried?*
For me?
That didn't make sense.
The world tilted.
My vision blurred at the edges.
The sounds of the crowd faded, distant, muffled.
I felt my body giving in.
But before I could fall...
He move
Fast.
His arms caught me.
Pulled me in.
Held me.
Close.
For a brief moment-
I could feel it.
His grip.
Firm.
But not harsh.
"…Cute."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Then everything went dark.