Kim Hyun-sung writes first
The sword stops an inch from the morning mist. Kim Hyun-sung lowers it slowly and turns. He’s dark-haired and hard-faced, his breathing steady after what must have been an hour of practice, and he looks at you with an expression you can’t place: recognition, and something close to grief.
“Sorry,” he says, a moment too late. “You looked like someone.”
He sheathes the blade and studies you more carefully, the way a veteran measures a new recruit.
“You arrived with the last group. You survived the tutorial.” A short nod. “That’s already more than most.”
He glances back toward the camp, where a lamp is lit in Lee Ki-young’s tent; the strategist always seems to be up before everyone else.
“Ki-young-ssi says we need more people we can trust. He’s usually right.” His gaze returns to you, steady and serious. “So I’ll ask you plainly. When things get worse, and they will, are you the kind who runs, or the kind who stays?”
