CHAPTER TWO The Midnight Tournament
466 Words
The room was louder than Yeonhwa expected.
Not loud like noble banquets.
No controlled laughter.
No polite conversation.
This was alive.
People shouted.
Coins exchanged hands.
Wood struck wood.
Steel rang.
The underground arena stretched beneath the city like a hidden kingdom.
Rows of masked spectators.
Fighters warming up.
Lantern light flickering across old stone.
Yeonhwa stood still.
Nobody looked twice at her.
Good.
Her hood stayed low.
Her sword stayed hidden.
Perfect.
A man at a registration table glanced up.
Name.
Yeonhwa answered immediately.
“Moon.”
The man barely looked at her.
Age.
“Nineteen.”
Minji would faint.
The man stamped a paper.
First match.
Arena Three.
Win and continue.
Lose and leave.
Die and that’s unfortunate.
Yeonhwa blinked.
“…That seems excessive.”
He pointed.
Next.
—
Arena Three.
Circular platform.
Wood.
Ropes.
Crowd surrounding every side.
Her opponent stepped forward.
Large.
Confident.
Very loud.
The crowd cheered.
Yeonhwa looked around.
Nobody seemed concerned.
Interesting.
The announcer shouted—
BEGIN.
The man rushed.
Yeonhwa moved once.
Side.
Pivot.
His strike missed.
She tapped his wrist.
His sword dropped.
Silence.
The man stared.
The crowd stared.
Yeonhwa stared too.
“…Was that it?”
The crowd exploded.
The man yelled and charged again.
She sighed.
Three steps.
One movement.
His feet left the ground.
He landed outside the ring.
Finished.
Silence.
Then screaming.
The announcer looked offended.
Winner—
MOON.
Yeonhwa bowed politely.
Someone threw money.
Someone else demanded a rematch.
She left immediately.
—
Second match.
Harder.
This opponent moved well.
Fast.
She had to draw Moonveil.
Only a little.
Silver flashed.
Too quick to notice.
She won.
Again.
—
Third match.
She entered.
Then stopped.
Something felt wrong.
Not danger.
Awareness.
Like being watched.
She looked up.
Highest level.
Private viewing section.
Dark.
Empty—
except—
someone was sitting there.
Black clothes.
One hand resting against his face.
Watching.
Not cheering.
Not moving.
Just…
watching.
His face hidden.
For one second—
she thought she saw silver eyes.
Then—
he stood.
Turned.
Left.
Yeonhwa frowned.
Strange.
The match began.
Her opponent attacked.
She blocked.
Countered.
Won.
But afterward—
she looked up again.
Empty.
—
Backstage—
fighters whispered.
“Who was upstairs?”
“Why was HE here?”
“I heard nobody gets invited.”
“No… he just comes.”
Yeonhwa looked over.
Who?
One fighter answered quietly.
Like saying the name too loudly was dangerous.
“…Black Tiger.”
Yeonhwa frowned.
Ridiculous title.
Probably dramatic.
Then—
someone behind her spoke.
Low voice.
Calm.
Too close.
“You fight carelessly.”
Yeonhwa turned.
Nobody.
Only movement.
Black fabric disappearing into the corridor.
And for the first time that night—
Yeonhwa realized—
someone had noticed her.
Not her disguise.
Not her face.
Her sword.
- Writer
