And so, over the next week, Abrial became a sort of second-tier instructor of the Wei camp’s morning blade fighting lessons. Whenever she entered the clearing, many students’ eyes lit up. She was a harsh instructor, always bursting with something to criticize when she watched the boys spar, since there was always something they were doing wrong that deeply bothered her. But no one minded when she corrected them. Every time she directed a student to strike faster, twist the blade more closely, turn more sharply, he tried his hardest to comply.

Some young male students began to follow her after class to her other destinations, which were usually places she went to relax or fool around, like the hillsides or the nearby river or the greeting pines. Wu Dafu always followed most closely, with Ya Syaoran not far behind. She taught the two of them how to climb a tree using only their arms and not their legs. Wu Dafu was amazed that she could do this as a woman. Ya Syoaron simply rolled his eyes and made no comment.

It got to the point that there were always a few young men who sat down to eat with Abrial at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She and Finley hardly ever ate alone anymore. Sometimes, Finley even abruptly left when boys cheerily arrived with their bowls, saying that she was feeling sick and leaving Abrial to eat alone with the boys.

The rest of the Wei camp seemed to take notice of this development as well. Since when did a band of young men start following around a young woman so closely and with such devotion? Rumors began to spread.

“Are they her disciples? I heard Wu Junfeng’s son claims she’s a master blade fighter.”

“No, they must be courting her. Can’t you see she’s a beauty? Almost more handsome than pretty, and yet she catches the eye so well…”

“I bet it’s both — courting and blade fighting! They seem to worship her.”

Abrial wasn’t the kind of person who got excited at gossip, and she only really paid attention to her own conversations, so she rarely picked up what people whispered around her or even noticed people were talking about her. Finley never brought up the gossip when they saw each other, either, though she seemed strangely distant as of late. In short, Abrial was utterly unaware of the fact that everyone who spotted her around camp — the handsome girl in the black and red robes, Han Abrial Chae-young — was watching her with newfound interest.

One night, Lyra came to Finley’s tent to gift Abrial a pair of newly sewn, ink-black shining shoes.

“For winning the dumpling-eating contest,” she grinned sheepishly. “We never got to declare a winner, but everyone knows it was you.”

Abrial fell over herself to wear them; they fit perfectly, and were as comfortable as silk. They looked intimidating, too! What a super-stark difference from the ragged, muddy old shoes she had been running in for months now!

The next day, she showed up to blade fighting class in these new, shiny shoes. Paired with her shadowy outer robe, they made her feel like an official blade master. Sort of dark and mysterious, but also a little intimidating and super cool.

She appeared a little early today, eager to show off her new shoes to Instructor Wei’s students.

Wu Dafu nearly fell over himself to greet her at the clearing entrance, fixing his blue forehead ribbon and grinning widely.

“Teacher Abrial!” he called out, enthusiastic as ever. “You’re early — Teacher Wei isn’t here yet. Come sit down, we were just talking about what you taught us last time.”

Abrial grinned, waving energetically. “Hey, Ah Fu! Look at what I got!” She lifted her robes slightly and pointed to her inky black shoes, wiggling her feet. Lyra really had put a lot of effort into them; the fabric had a slight sheen, with swirling designs sewn carefully into it. Super-super cool!

Wu Da-Fu’s face lit up at first, bright like the sun. As his eyes registered her new shoes, his face fell, the sun plunging into the ocean. His dark brown eyebrows furrowed.

Abrial frowned in confusion.

“What is it? You don’t like them? But they’re super cool!”

Wu Da-Fu rubbed the back of his neck with a large hand. An embarrassed smile spread across his lips.

“No, it’s not that…It’s just…” he swallowed, tugging on the edge of his forehead ribbon slightly. He pulled a little too hard, tilting the front part crookedly. With pink cheeks, he adjusted it. “I also…”

Abrial leaned closer, her dark eyebrows frowning.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? I can’t hear you.”

Wu Dafu’s cheeks seemed to explode with warm pink, like buds blooming in the spring.

“I got you shoes, too!” he burst. His eyes widened, and he clapped a hand hard to his own mouth.

Abrial’s frown only deepened. The corners of her mouth, already turned down in puzzlement, curved down further into bewilderment.

“Well….thanks, but that’s silly, Ah Fu! I never said I needed shoes. Why’d you go ahead and do that?”

Wu Dafu mumbled something under his breath that Abrial couldn’t understand, gripping the folds of his white robes.

“Huh? I can’t hear you, Ah Fu! What’s with you today?”

Wu Dafu looked up, his eyes flickering. The red tinge of his ears betrayed his nervousness.

“Your shoes…they looked old, and…and…”

“...and what?”

“You fucking idiot!” Dieter’s furious, harsh voice barked from not far ahead. He was leaning against a tent at the edge of the clearing, as usual. He’d been trying to look as though he wasn’t listening to Abrial and Wu Dafu’s conversation, but it had gotten to a point he simply couldn’t stand listening to anymore.

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“What’s with you today?” Abrial scowled, shooting him a dark look. “Or is this your normal daily fit?”

Dieter bared his teeth, pale fingers clenching into the folds of the forearms of his green shirt. “Shut up! Can’t you see that he likes you? That’s why he wanted to buy you shoes! Honestly, they all like you!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Abrial snapped, starting towards Dieter furiously.

“Did you even hear what I said? He fucking likes you!”

Abrial still wasn’t getting it. “Fuck you! Who’s ‘he’? Who likes who? What’s the problem here?”

“How stupid are you?! The one standing next to you! Wu Dafu! Wu Dafu likes YOU!”

Dieter stabbed a finger at the boy standing stock-still as a petrified log next to Abrial, the thin strands hanging down from his blue headband fluttering in the wind. His warm eyes seemed to have been shocked cold, his shoulders hunched by his ears and his arms plastered to his sides. He didn’t even seem to be breathing from fear.

Abrial’s head whirled around. She stared at Wu Dafu, who stared back at her in a wordless panic, cheeks painted bright pink.

What did that asshole Dieter mean, like?

He likes you.

He couldn’t mean that kind of ‘like’, the one Shin Minyeo had used to tease her about Finley months ago. That couldn’t be right. Wu Dafu was her friend. He called her ‘Teacher’. They ate together and sparred and climbed trees. They joked and told stories. How could he think of her like…like that, then? No, that wasn’t right. Dieter must mean something else.

“What d’you mean?” she scoffed. “Of course he likes me. I like him too. We’re friends! How could we be friends if we didn’t like each other?”

Dieter emitted a scraping groan of exasperation, throwing his head into his hands as though her words caused him physical pain.

“Not that kind of like!” he groaned. “The other one! He’s in love!”

Abrial blinked a few times. The words bounced around the outsides of her skull for a moment, her brain stubbornly refusing them entrance. At last, suddenly, she understood.

“What?” she croaked, stumbling away from Wu Dafu. Her shining boots crumpled the swaying grass underfoot. Her face blanched pale as the moon.

Seeing her reaction, Wu Dafu’s face paled as well. He stumbled backward, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly as though he didn’t know what else to do.

Abrial’s chest seemed to be caving in. It felt like there was a heavy boulder pressing in on it, pressuring her ribs to fold inward.

What…what was this? What was happening?

Am I supposed to say something? She thought frantically. Never, ever in her life had she been in this kind of situation before. Never, ever, had she wanted to be in this kind of situation, and never, ever had she even imagined encountering a situation like this! Liking someone—it had never been something on her mind! Except, just maybe, when it came to…to someone…But no, this wasn’t the time to think about that! What should she say? What should she do?!

Thankfully for Abrial, she didn’t have to say anything at all. At that moment, a white and black blur flashed across the clearing and collided with Dieter against the white tent with a sickening crunch.

The scene cleared, and a strange sight met the eyes of everyone in the clearing. Many jaws dropped.

Ya Syaoran kneeled over Dieter, pinning him viciously to the ground. With both fists, he was brutally pounding Dieter’s face in, each strike seeming to send a shock wave through the ground with its strength. His sleek black hair began to come loose from the ribbon tying his hair back, falling unkempt over his face. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it was about to snap and shatter to a million bone shards.

After scuffling around and struggling for a moment, Dieter pushed Ya Syaoran off, and the two of them started bashing each other with fists and kicks. Dieter’s nose already looked crooked, and crimson blood was running down his chin and smudging his cheeks, obscuring his freckles. Ya Syaoran received a harsh blow in the eye, but continued punching despite squinting from one eye alone.

“Fucking Roatian bastard!” Ya Syaoran spat, landing a painful slug in Dieter’s stomach. He punched Dieter there, again and again, emphasizing each punch with a string of swears. “Fuck — you! Fuck — you — Roatian — bastard! Go — vomit — and — die!”

Dieter dodged the tenth punch narrowly and kicked aimlessly at Ya Syaoran’s legs. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he barked through a mouthful of salty blood. “Punching me all of a sudden? What the fuck do you want? You’re an immigrant from that filthy kingdom of Geum, aren’t you? What right do you have to beat me up for being Roatian?! Fuck this!”

Despite Dieter’s determination to not be beaten, it was clear that both Ya Syaoran’s fury and strength were far more powerful than Dieter’s, and soon Dieter was lying on the ground in a panting heap. Ya Syaoran stood over him with a shadowed face. He wiped blood from his glittering eye with a milk-pale hand.

Abrial stood there, reeling with shock. The whole beating had transpired in less than a minute. Several students around the clearing had begun cheering.

“That’s right, Ya Syaoran! Get that filthy Roatian!”

“Show him the eternal revenge of Gongkua!”

“Give him some more, why’d you stop?”

Wu Dafu had broken out of his frozen-log state and was striding determinedly towards Ya Syaoran now, some of the color having returned to his face. He reached out towards Ya Syaoran’s shoulder, which heaved heavily with rage.

“Ah Ran, calm down. He didn’t do anything wrong…”

Ya Syaoran whirled around and batted Wu Dafu’s hand away, unkempt black hair flying through the air. His dark eyes flashed, long lashes flickering.

“Didn’t do anything wrong?” he growled. “Were you happy when he said all that? Did you want him to say that shit?”

Wu Dafu stared, speechless.

Without another word, Ya Syaoran turned and stormed away. In a moment, he had disappeared from the clearing, leaving a shocked Abrial and Wu Da-Fu standing next to a beaten and bloodied Dieter, all of the other students hollering excitedly about whatever it was that had just happened.