Suddenly, somebody crushed Abrial against the hay.

A choking noise escaped her throat. There was an arm pressing down harshly on her windpipe. Two bloodshot eyes glowing in the moonlight glared down at her with an expression twisted with hatred and triumph. They were familiar, somehow. Hot breath reeking of alcohol brushed Abrial’s face.

“Isn’t this a bit much?” another voice piped up nervously from somewhere nearby. Abrial couldn’t move her head to look; her eyes were tearing up from the pressure.

“Yeah — didn’t you say you just wanted to take the prize horse? This is gonna look really bad if someone finds out that you attacked the winner, too…Not to mention that she’s a woman! I think you should let go…”

“Shut up!” snarled the man crushing Abrial’s windpipe. He didn’t take his eyes off her. “This bitch had it coming.”

There was a scraping noise. Suddenly, a thin, jagged silver object appeared by Abrial’s face. It was a rusty knife.

“Hey! That’s just too much. I’m — I’m out of here!”

“Yeah, me too! This was going to just be mild retaliation where we stole the horse. I don’t wanna be a part of a murder!”

Two sets of footsteps scampered away down the alley.

Abrial sucked in a shallow breath, all she could intake with this arm crushing down on her neck.

The arm pressed harder. Abrial gagged.

“So,” hissed the man. A sick, gleaming drunken grin spread over his face. “Who’s grinning now? Looks like this little show-off can’t fight off someone even a little bigger than her, despite all of her divine skills of strength.”

Matched with the smug grin, Abrial recognized those bloodshot, drunken eyes all of a sudden.

“You,” she choked. “You’re the nasty smug middle-aged man from…the Jiu contest!” Despite the fact that she could hardly breathe and there was a dirty knife by her face, she still managed to scowl darkly up at this prick. “Don’t tell me…you were so jealous…you had to come ambush me…in my sleep? How petty…can you get?!”

The man’s bloodshot eyes flashed with fury. His grin contorted into a snarl. Shaking with rage, he shifted the knife closer to Abrial’s cheek, scraping against her skin.

“Shut up, you ugly whore! Whatever I want, what’s it to you? Since you’re not a resident of this town, if I do something to you, nobody’ll believe you if you point fingers without a witness. Plus, you’re a woman! So don’t act like you’re in a position to laugh. I could murder you right here and get away with it! I’ll just dispose of you in the river after, and no one has to know.”

Abrial actually laughed. She just — couldn’t resist the urge, even when there was hardly any air left in her lungs. Was this guy nuts? Was he a toddler who lost a game of play-pretend?

“Are you…joking?!” Abrial’s forced out with the last bit of air in her lungs. “You really want…to kill me? For beating you in ax-throwing? Can’t you find…a better way to cope? Geez!”

The nasty man snarled darkly, pressing the knife into her cheek and making a shallow cut. His arm squeezed her numb windpipe. “Out of all the women I’ve met, I’ve never met someone as vulgar as you! Listen here, you little bitch! We’re gonna prove who’s really stronger, right here, right now! You and me! We’ll fight to the death to prove who’s really stronger! And then I’ll do whatever I please. Kill you, or…” He flicked the knife slightly, leaving a deeper cut in the smooth, pale skin of Abrial’s cheek. She didn’t react. “I might carve your face into a prettier little red smile. Then I’d never have to look at such a whorish grin again!”

Abrial’s eyes flashed, dark as coal. Her lip snarled, showing glittering white teeth

“You…perverted fuck!”

With that, she kicked him viciously off her chest. He went flying backward, the knife gleaming as it flailed through the air in his grip.

Like a blur of shadow, Abrial was on top of him. She was a bit more sluggish than usual because of the wine still clouding her mind, but she was still fast as lightning and strong as a panther. She slapped him this way and that, then pummeled his face and his stomach and kicked him down there a couple times for good measure, until he lay whimpering and bloodied in the stack of hay he’d fallen into.

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Satisfied with teaching him a lesson, Abrial whipped her dagger out of its sheath. The once-smug, still-nasty man was now lying pressed flat on the cobblestone while Abrial’s forearm fiercely crushed his windpipe, and her dagger hovered near his cheek, pressing into it and drawing a thin line of blood.

His bloodshot eyes seared up at her, wide with hate and watering in pain. There was something almost crazy in them. Abrial crushed his windpipe more, grinning in triumph. What kind of comeback should she use? What would be really cool to say right now? That’s what you get! No, too simple. Who’s grinning now indeed! Too pretentious.

As she was busy coming up with a banger line to finish this stupid fight, the man jerked with a sudden burst of strength. With a strangled roar, he swung his knife at her side.

It took Abrial’s slightly foggy mind just a moment too long to see that he was slicing at her and to subsequently shift her weight to dodge out of the way. Just the slip of a second.

A searing numbness exploded in her side, like sparks going off. Cold air, too, rushed in at her ribs, tingling harshly.

Behind her at the wooden post, Dal brayed loudly in dismay, stamping his hoofs.

Abrial didn’t have time to think. She vaulted to her feet and spun off the man as he coughed harshly and stumbled to his feet as well, hissing through his teeth with pain. He swung clumsily at her again; this time, she curved beneath the swing, darting in as she had so many times in blade matches with Instructor Wei.

Her dagger sliced between his sixth and seventh ribs — a deep cut, exactly where she wanted it.

“AHGARHAHAHAHA!” the man shrieked. His knife clattered to the ground, forgotten as he cradled his badly wounded chest. A mouthful of blood burst from his lips. He whimpered pitifully.

Abrial smiled crookedly in triumph, holding back a wince. The cut in her side was burning like a stove. Ignoring the pain, she bared her teeth and pointed Dohyun at this nasty, shameful toddler-man prick.

“You want more? Because I can give you plenty! I can slice you up as much as you want! However many pieces you like!”

“You!” he screamed, pointing at Abrial. He began to back away, holding his chest wound tightly. His fingers were turning wet with scarlet blood, and he was very pale from fear, pain, rage, blood loss, or all four. “You! You bitch! I hope terrible things happen to you! I hope you vomit and die!”

Then he turned on his heel and sprinted down the alley and out of sight, his whimpers echoing behind him.

Abrial raised an eyebrow. “Damnit! I should’ve used that line — that was his best insult yet!”

To vomit and die — Finley had told her about this phrase years ago:

“Finley! How about this one — what’s the worst insult you know? The worst thing you could ever say to someone you hate?”

“...There is…one insult they say you should never, ever speak, except to your worst enemies.”

“Ooh, what is it? I wanna know!”

“Well…perhaps I should not tell you.”

“Oh, c’mon! Come on, what is it? Finleyyy!”

“All right, all right. Let go of my robe, first. The insult is…” Finley had looked around discreetly and seriously, as though to check if anyone was listening nearby. “I hope you vomit and die. That is the ancient insult.”

Abrial’s eyes had lit up with glee.

“I hope you vomit and die! I hope you vomit and die! Ahaha, it’s fun to say. But kinda weird! Why’s it so bad to say something like that? I hope you vomit and die? Seems like a normal curse to me.”

“It is because of the Scarlet Plague. In the years when we were born, there was a terrible plague — the Scarlet Plague. It was an iteration of a previous plague from hundreds of years ago that caused the infected to vomit until they died. That is why it is considered a terrible curse to tell someone to vomit and die. It is like cursing someone with that plague.”

“Oh…huh. But to me, it’s just a phrase! I hope you vomit and die, a ha he! What a weird insult. I’ll wish it on all my enemies! Like that math tutor, the one who’s a pain in the butt!”

“Abrial…”

Abrial’s smile lingered on her lips in the present. Finley’s exasperated smile lingered in her mind too, glimmering like a star. Then it faded, and her smile diminished, too.

Her face contorted with pain.

“Ow…Shit.”

She lifted a hand to her ribs. Her heart froze.

Her fingers came away soaked with blood. She could paint scarlet calligraphy with the amount of blood slathered onto her fingers right now.

“That…isn’t good,” she mumbled. Behind her, Dal nickered anxiously. He stuck his long face over her shoulder, shining black fur pressing against her cheek. He was warm.

Abrial raised her unsoiled hand to pet his soft mane. Her vision was beginning to double, or triple, even. She smiled sideways at Dal, leaning on him heavily.

“I’m losing…a lot of blood,” she mumbled. “I need…bandages…or something…right…?”

She stumbled. Her vision flickered darkly, fading into shadows. She was vaguely aware of something, or someone, catching her from behind. As she gazed up blurrily into the night sky, she thought she saw two bright, black smiling eyes staring down at her.

Then she slipped away into unconsciousness.