CHAPTER SEVEN One Percent
543 Words
Yeonhwa did not think about Kang Taejun.
She repeated this to herself the entire way home.
She did not think about him.
Not about his annoying advice.
Not about his stupidly calm face.
Not about losing.
Definitely not about losing.
She entered her room.
Sat.
Picked up a teacup.
Stared at the wall.
Then stood up.
Walked to the hidden practice area.
Picked up a wooden sword.
Changed direction.
Stopped.
Her left shoulder dropped.
She froze.
Lowered the sword.
Looked offended.
“…I dislike him.”
—
The next evening—
she returned.
Not because she wanted a rematch.
That would be ridiculous.
She simply happened to arrive at the exact same time.
Entire coincidence.
The tournament was crowded.
People recognized her now.
Someone called—
“MOON! WIN AGAIN!”
Another shouted—
“DON’T DIE!”
Encouraging.
Yeonhwa ignored them.
Her eyes scanned automatically.
Not looking.
Observing.
Different.
Then—
black robes.
Upper level.
She narrowed her eyes.
Found him.
Watching.
Again.
She walked upstairs.
Directly.
People moved out of the way.
She stopped in front of him.
His eyes lifted.
No reaction.
She folded her arms.
“Fight me again.”
His expression remained calm.
“No.”
Yeonhwa blinked.
“…No?”
He looked away.
“I already fought you.”
She stared.
What kind of answer—
She frowned.
“You said one strike.”
He nodded.
“You didn’t.”
“…So?”
His eyes moved back to her.
“I don’t repeat matches.”
Silence.
Yeonhwa stared.
That was absurd.
She looked at him suspiciously.
“…Why?”
He thought for a second.
Then answered—
“People stop showing who they are the second time.”
She blinked.
Unexpected answer.
He looked down at the arena.
“The first fight tells the truth.”
She stared at him.
Then asked—
“…And what did mine say?”
Long pause.
Too long.
His eyes rested on the crowd.
Then quietly—
“You’re afraid of making mistakes.”
She froze.
Not because he was right.
Obviously.
Because—
that answer had nothing to do with sword fighting.
She recovered immediately.
“You don’t know me.”
His answer came instantly.
“I know enough.”
Annoying.
She turned.
Started walking away.
Then—
his voice.
“Moon.”
She stopped.
First time he’d called her that.
He said—
“Your match starts in three minutes.”
Pause.
“And don’t overcorrect your shoulder.”
She turned sharply.
His face stayed blank.
“…You noticed?”
His answer:
“You changed it too much.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Then—
before she could stop herself—
she asked—
“…Then what should I do?”
Silence.
He looked at her.
Then stood.
Walked past.
As he passed—
he tapped her shoulder once.
Light.
Barely there.
And said—
“Trust it more.”
Then kept walking.
Yeonhwa stood frozen.
Not because he touched her.
Absolutely not.
That was irrelevant.
She just—
No.
Actually—
why did that advice make sense?
—
Later.
She won her match.
Cleaner.
Less hesitation.
Backstage—
someone asked—
“You know Black Tiger?”
Yeonhwa answered immediately.
“No.”
Pause.
Then—
“…Unfortunately.”
- Writer
