Was she…already drunk?!
How was that even possible?!
Just how strong was this wine?!?!?!
Or maybe, the better question was — was it possible her tolerance had gotten even weaker? It had always taken at least five to ten minutes for any kind of mouthful of alcohol to kick in…Had all this running around deteriorated her ability to even drink the tiny amount she’d once been able to?!
Already, her senses were starting to go a little funny.
The sounds all around the courtyard were bouncing around strangely in her head: the cheering of the crowd, the loud voice of the announcer hollering something useless, the pained hisses of the men up and down the line…it was like erratic music, making not much sense. She could feel her face heating up, too. When she put a hand to her cheek, it felt hot, like a stove.
“You — are not drunk, Han Abrial Chae-young!” she scolded herself. “You…are sober! You can stand straight. Stand straight, Abrial!” She stood straight and rigid, placing her hands on her hips as though to steady herself.
Male competitors near her began to look over, snickering and pointing.
“Is the woman drunk already?” they asked one another, entertained. “As expected, as expected…”
Thankfully for them, Abrial was yelling too loudly to hear them. If she had, in this tipsy-drunken state, she might have rushed over to bash their heads in.
Another ten minutes, and the extremely potent rice wine had succeeded in making several of the men stumble about as well, their cheeks bright red like cherries.
“I miss my wife!” one of them moaned, falling to his knees. “Even though she cheated on me with that ugly bastard! Wifey~!”
“I wish I had a wife,” moped another. “Am I too ugly? I’m gonna be single forever! Wah~!”
“I don’t really want a wife!” snickered Abrial. She was rocking back and forth, her arms out by her sides in a feeble attempt to steady herself. “I’m not getting married!”
“You’re a woman,” the teenager to her right reminded her, swaying slightly. His face was glowing pink with tipsiness. “You wouldn’t have a wife — you would have a husband.”
“A husband…Why would I get a husband? That’s like imprisoning yourself to be a servant for the rest of your life! Men are disgusting…I don’t want to get married…” Abrial’s eyes began to fill with tears. Suddenly, she wailed. Many people in the crowd gawked at her. A mother covered her son’s eyes. “Mother and Father were going to send me away to get married! How could they do that? They know marriage is one of the things I hate most…WAH~!!!”
After howling for a while, she whirled around and snatched that teenage boy on her right by the collar. Her grip was tight as a vise.
“You, you know, I wish Finley was here. If she was here, everything would be okay! We should’ve just run away together, or I should’ve stayed…Why did she have to go and separate us like that…” Her wailing turned to blubbering. “I haven’t been separated from her like this since we met…ten years ago…It’s been ten years…I used to see her every day, all day…”
“There, there…” comforted the teenager, patting her drunkenly on the back. “Don’t cry. My mother says there’s always a side of the hill that has sunlight on it.”
Abrial either didn’t hear him or ignored him, sniveling snot into his sleeve.
By now, everyone in the line of competitors was at least tipsy. Unfortunately, Abrial was the most drunk of them all. And it wasn’t hard to tell, by her red face, the tears and snot all over her nose and cheeks, and the way she was nearly shaking the wits out of that teenage boy, who seemed slightly confused as to where he was and why someone was shaking him so violently.
“I knew she would be a lightweight,” slurred that middle-aged man to Abrial’s left, pointing a thick finger at her. “So arrogant, and yet she’s one of the worst-off…”
When at last the candle had burnt down to the half-hour mark, the announcer brought the paper cone to his lips.
“All those competing! Half an hour has elapsed. We will now commence the ax-throwing section of the contest. Please line up at the side of the courtyard. Each of you will proceed one at a time!”
Contest overseers herded the drunk and tipsy men along with Abrial to the side of the courtyard, emptying the large stone-paved space they had been occupying. It was quite entertaining to be watching in the crowd as these drunk competitors flailed and stumbled around like lost ducklings. As they were herded away, other overseers scurried out with three large red-painted targets, placing them in intervals along the ground.
“The first man, please step up to the line! Yes, right there — please hand him an ax.”
The annoying middle-aged man who’d been standing to Abrial’s left took the small hand ax from an overseer. He twirled his wrist skillfully few times — clearly, he was only slightly tipsy at most. Then, he swiftly pulled the ax back over his head. With a whoosh, he flung it forward violently with the force of a bear. It flew at the target, spinning dizzily —
And sank right into the wooden center.
The crowd erupted into impressed gasps and cheers.
“What a strong man!”
“Strong enough to hold such potent liquor, and still ace a target!”
“AH, he’s so hot! Even though he’s kind of old!!! But like, not old enough for it to be weird for me to say he’s hot, right?”
The second target, to everyone’s amazement, he aced as well. Only the last one he didn’t hit quite as accurately. Still, he sank his third ax near the center of the target. Two aces and one near-ace — an astounding feat for any tipsy man.
As he returned to the side of the courtyard, he shot Abrial a smug look.
Abrial didn’t even notice. She was too busy alternating between weeping and cackling at some random thing crossing her mind.
And so all the men took their turns, from teenagers to the elderly, stepping up to fling three axes as best as they could. Many axes went straight up in the air or right down into the ground; other axes miraculously made their mark on the targets. Nobody, however, came nearly as close to the target centers as that first annoying middle-aged man, whose grin grew wider and smugger with each throw of an ax.
“I don’t know why,” Abrial suddenly said loudly, pointing obviously at him, “But that guy’s stupid grin annoys me a lot! I want to wipe it off his face! Squeak, squeak! Like wiping a window! Squeak!”
The man’s face flushed red with fury — redder than it already was. “You little — !”
“Miss, please take the ax. It’s your turn.”
Abrial blinked disorientedly. There was a man in front of her, holding out a small handaxe. Abrial reached out and took it, turning it over with wonder. Its glint was steely, and it laid heavily in her palms.
“Coooooool! Nice cutting-thingy! Well-made. What am I supposed to do with this?”
The man laughed, uncertain whether Abrial was joking or not. “Um…Just what was announced before, Miss? You need to throw it at the target as best as you can. At the middle.”
Abrial’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Fun. Very fun. He he he! Where’s this middle of the target?”
“Um…Straight in front of you?”
“Ah! Gotcha! I see it, right there! Watch this, old grinning man!” she hollered, winking at the smug middle-aged man from before. She gripped the wooden ax handle firmly with both hands. Then she closed her eyes as Instructor Wei had taught her to do before any intense training session, breathing in deeply from her abdomen. Fresh air filled her lungs. A momentary clarity came over her.
Her eyes shot open.
She whirled around and hurled the ax. Like a dart, it flew towards the target with a clear path, almost as if it had been magnetized.
Thump.
The crowd rippled with gasps.
“No way!” someone called out. “She was completely drunk before! How did she hit the bulls-eye in that state?”
It had seemed unfathomable to everyone watching a moment ago, but it was undeniable now: Abrial’s ax had sunk almost up to the handle into the wooden target’s center. Her throw had been as precise as the needle of a surgeon, and powerful as an ocean wave in a storm.
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“Ridiculous!” exploded the once-smug middle-aged man. His grin had vanished, replaced with a twisted expression of fury. He stabbed a thick finger at Abrial. “She must’ve been pretending to be drunk! How could she make such a throw in her condition?! A poser!”
“A ha ha! A ha he!” Abrial’s drunken laughter was so loud that everyone in the courtyard could hear it. She pointed at that no-longer-smug man, holding her stomach as she howled: “I really did wipe the smile off his face! A ha ha! Squeak, squeak! That’s much better!”
“Well…” someone in the crowd remarked doubtfully. “She definitely seems drunk.”
“Perhaps she’s just that good?”
“Maybe she’s very skilled with blades. After all, that couldn’t have been an accident!”
“It was quite impressive.”
“Impressive, indeed!”
Slowly at first, then in an explosion, the crowd burst into applause and cheering.
“What a woman of great strength!”
“What a mysterious lady!”
“My son ought to marry someone like her, who can get things done! She’s remarkably beautiful, too!”
Abrial, totally drunk, grinned crookedly up at all of the clapping people. Their applause sounded like many reeds snapping in the wind of the paradise garden, which made her already roiling stomach lurch.
“Miss…The second ax?”
“Mm? Another one? Nice!” She swiped it from the male overseer, tossing it in the air like an apple. She caught it precariously on the way down, twirling it between her fingers in the way she liked to twirl her dagger.
This time, she didn’t need to be told what to do. The feel of the wooden handle in her fist was comforting and familiar, and she turned towards the second target. Her eyes were focused.
Instructor Wei had given her a wooden-handled sword once, when she was new to blade fighting. His face materialized in her mind. His features were slightly foggy, and yet his dark eyes were clear and twinkling, his smile soft beneath them.
Trust the movements of your body. It will carry you where you need to be.
He had placed his big hand over hers, guiding it to move the little sword in an arc.
Yes, like this. Feel the power flow through your muscles, and lean into it. You are powerful, Abrial. You only need to listen to yourself.
Abrial closed her eyes. A small smile flitted over her face.
Her eyes shot open.
With a flick of her arm, she hurled the ax.
Fwump.
It sank into the bullseye as easily as if that is where it had always belonged.
The crowd erupted into thunderous cheering. Abrial hardly heard them at all. It sounded like some crazy stampede many miles away, and all that rumbling hurt her head. She winced, taking the third ax automatically this time from an overseer.
She lifted it to her eyes, a sudden confusion clouding them.
“Why am I doing this?” she mumbled. “Why am I throwing axes? What the heck?”
“Um…to win the Jiu contest, Miss?” the male overseer offered helpfully. “To…To win ownership of Dal, Futou’s fastest horse?”
“Ah!” her eyes lit up again with excitement, two dark, shining lanterns. Her eyes fell on Dal, who was kicking at the dirt at the edge of the courtyard. “The beautiful, godly horse! I want him! We’re gonna be best friends! And…”
Finley’s pale, heart-shaped face formed in her mind. She was smiling gently, her lips pink like flower petals. Her hazel eyes always turned to faint crescents when she smiled. Abrial’s heart jumped up her throat.
“And I want to go get Finley!” she burst. “To make sure she’s safe! And see her smile!”
“O…kay?” stammered the overseer, scratching his head.
Abrial turned on him with a serious look. He stumbled back, a little frightened. She dropped the ax and grabbed him by the shoulders in a tight grip.
“What do I need to do to make sure I win? Tell me whatever it is. I need to win.”
The overseer cowered, his face pale. “W-well, first, you need to not drop th-the ax like that…It almost chopped my foot off…”
Abrial immediately swooped down and retrieved the ax. She snatched him by the collar again.
“Okay, now what do I need to do?”
“W-welll…” he looked around, trying to catch the announcer’s eye for help, but the crowd was still whooping from Abrial’s last bullseye, and the announcer was distracted pumping his fist in excitement as well. This girl was the best thing that had ever happened to the annual Jiu contest, for real! She’d be going down in history for shocking everyone like this with her talent! Seeing he wasn’t going to get back-up, the male overseer continued timidly: “There are still some people who will c-compete in throwing after you, so to make sure you win, it would b-be good to make a bullseye this one well, and to do so impressively.”
“A good bullseye? Bullseye this one well? Impressively” Abrial stepped closer, her brow furrowed deeply. Her face was very serious. “What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t know!” the overseer burst out, covering his face with trembling hands. “J-just — impress the crowd again! Or something! Please let me go!”
Abrial released his robe. He scrambled away to quail behind another overseer, who gave him a strange look.
Meanwhile, Abrial had gotten a determined gleam in her eye. It was like dark fire again, searing the crowd as she scanned it.
“EVERYBODY!!” she shouted. She waved her arms and the ax around. “EVERYBODY QUIET!”
The crowd quieted, a hush falling over everyone. A little baby cried out. His excited mother shushed him.
“Watch THIS! I’m gonna bullseye this one with MY EYES CLOSED!!!”
A murmur of complete shock rippled through the crowd.
“Can she really bullseye it without looking?”
“Probably! She seems like a master with blades!”
“Mama, I want to be as cool as that lady! So cool!”
“Hey!” The infuriated, once-smug middle aged man, who was clearly a bad sport, stepped forward. He was pointing a finger accusingly at Abrial yet again, his eyes throwing daggers. “How can we be sure your eyes’ll be closed? What if they’re just open slightly and you’re fooling us into thinking you’re all that great? I refuse to believe you can really bullseye that target with your eyes closed when you’re as drunk as you are! Pah!” He spat maliciously.
Abrial’s lips pulled into a drunken smirk. Her eyes gleamed bright with entertainment — an almost dangerous brightness. It was the sort of look she got in her eye when she thought of doing something risky that would make her veins course with sparking adrenaline. Like climbing around the outside of the house by jumping from windowsill to windowsill. Or climbing a twenty-foot pine tree using just her hands.
“You got it!” she laughed. “I’ll make it so there’s no room for doubt! I’m really just that skilled, he he.”
She reached down and with a flick, pulled away her belt. Her robes flew up around her in the summer wind, flowing like blood and shadow around her pants and shirt. She tucked the ax into a pocket for the moment. Reaching up to her face, she slowly tied the belt around her eyes to form a blindfold. The world went dark as ink.
She smiled crookedly.
Then she felt for the ax and gripped it by the handle.
She breathed in deeply. Once in, once out, feeling the cool air fill her lungs, then rush out warmer. The crowd had gone utterly silent. She inhaled again deeply, catching the scent of grass and sweat for the first time since she’d down the rice wine.
Then she whipped around, flinging the last ax so quickly her arm became a blur of red and black wind, impossible to trace.
Thwunk.
The smug man’s face went blank with shock.
Abrial lifted a corner of the blindfold. A smug laugh escaped her throat.
The crowd exploded into cheers, booming once again with disbelief and amazement, louder before than it had ever been. Its roar was utterly ear-splitting. Even many of the men competing were whooping now, clapping vigorously for her.
Abrial’s ax had indeed sunk into the center of the last target — so deep, in fact, that the target had begun to split in two. There was a visible fissure in the wood. What divine strength, talent, and class this young woman had! She was…so cool!
Abrial stopped laughing abruptly while the cheering raged all around her.
“What am I doing here?” she mumbled, frowning down at her hands.
An overseer led her back to the side of the courtyard, assuring her that she was in the right place and to just wait a little longer for her prize.
In the end, none of the few men left even came close to Abrial’s performance. And so, Dal was handed off to Abrial in front of the crowd. She took his reins, half-confused as to why he was being given to her, and half jumping with excitement at being so close to this beautiful, regal being.
Once the crowd had dispersed, directed by the overseers and announcers to the liquor-selling stands, Abrial led Dal down the back streets and alleyways of Futou aimlessly. She stumbled, more drunk by the minute. It seemed Futou’s rice wine was one that became stronger with time — much more potent than the liquor she had used to steal from the kitchens at the house.
“Dal,” she murmured. The horse blew a breath out of his lips in return. “You’re so pretty. And so…mild! I thought you would misbehave because you looked fierce at first, but you’re really super obedient. Ack, my head…”
A throbbing pain filled her temples, making her vision go red for a moment. Her hand went to her forehead.
“Dal, I feel very sleepy. And it hurts, my head, and my arms…I don’t think I can go on today. Let’s…rest here for some time, okay? Just…for a bit…”
She clumsily tied Dal to a wooden post in the shadowy alley they had slowed to a stop next to. As if sensing she was not in the right state of mind, he didn’t resist, even staying perfectly still while she tied him there.
Then, slowly because everything seemed to be sore and her head felt like a knife had passed through it, Abrial lowered herself onto the pile of hay sitting by the post. She snuggled into it until it cradled her like a pillow and mattress.
“I feel…like I did something fun today…” she murmured. “But it’s strange…I can’t remember what…and at the same time, I feel…like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing…”
Soon, she drifted into a deep sleep.
The afternoon light streaming into the alley glimmered gold.
If you didn’t notice the dark black and scarlet of her robes, the sharp dagger sheathed in her belt, or the dirt and blood on her palms, in the sliver of light that reached her face, Abrial looked almost peaceful and angelic for once.
----------------------------------------
“Shh — she’s going to wake up! Cut the reins, faster.”
“We’re trying! It seems like she’s tied them in a lot of knots…How she tied it so tightly when she was so drunk, I have no idea —”
“Quiet down!”
Abrial’s eyes fluttered open. There was somebody, or multiple people, moving around in the dark near her. She could feel the heat from their bodies as they scurried about.
She winced. The moon had come up already. It shone brightly into her eyes, making her shooting pain in her head worse. The sky above was slightly blurry, too, since she was still a bit drunk.
A male voice swore in the darkness.
“You dimwits,” the voice hissed, “Look what you’ve done. She’s waking up. Hurry!”
“We’re — trying! The knot’s too complicated!
“Yeah, it’s all tangled up! Maybe we should just leave the horse…”
“Who is it?” Abrial mumbled, sitting up on the hay. “Who’s there?”
The angry male voice swore again.
Suddenly, somebody crushed Abrial against the hay.