Back at the hut, the sun had begun to fall behind the trees.
Jin-ah sat at the table, waiting. Her hands rested on her knees. The cloak and mask were off now, folded on the bed. She watched Gaon move between the hearth and the counter, measuring rice, cracking eggs into a bowl, stirring the pot with the same wooden spoon he always used.
He did not speak while he cooked. She did not mind. The silence between them had become comfortable over the past weeks.
When the food was ready, he filled two bowls and set one in front of her. Steamed rice with soft eggs and wild greens. Simple, but hot.
She picked up her chopsticks and ate. Slowly at first, then faster, the way she always ate when she forgot to be careful. Halfway through, she looked up.
"It's good," she said quietly.
Gaon nodded and kept eating.
They finished together. He took the bowls to the counter and rinsed them with water from the bucket. She stayed at the table, watching his back.
He dried his hands on a rag and turned around. His face was serious.
"Jin-ah. I need to tell you something. A reality."
She straightened in her seat.
"I don't have much money," he said. "The iron bar bought us rice and eggs. That's it. Tomorrow, I'll need to make another one. And another after that. But that's slow. Too slow."
She waited.
"So we're going to do something else." He sat down across from her, leaning forward. "We're going to steal money from the stealer."
Her brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
"On the roads outside Hwagok, there are bandits. Not the ones who steal food because they're hungry. Real bandits. The kind who kill travelers and take everything. They have money. They have goods. And no one will miss them."
He paused.
"We can't kill innocent people. That's not who we are. But people who kill innocent people?" He looked at her. "We can take from them. And if they try to stop us, we can kill them."
Jin-ah's fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic. Her heart beat faster, but not from fear.
"You mean... we hunt them?"
"Yes."
She thought about the Dig. The guards. The men who had taken her mother. The yellow-toothed buyer who had looked at her mother like meat.
"When?" she asked.
Gaon saw something flicker in her eyes. Not hesitation. Hunger.
"Tomorrow night," he said. "I'll teach you how to hold a sword before then."
As morning arrived, Gaon finished three iron bars before the sun reached its peak. Each one was better than the last smoother, more even, less slag trapped in the grain. His arms ached, but he did not stop until the third bar cooled on the flat stone.
After a quick meal of leftover rice, he led Jin-ah to the clearing behind the hut.
"Now," he said, picking up two swords he had set against the woodpile. One was for him a straight, rusted blade he had found in the ruins. The other was smaller, lighter, made from a broken blade he had reshaped over his fire. One edge. Curved. The kind of sword he had seen in old illustrations from a land far across the sea.
He handed her the curved blade. She took it with both hands, her eyes wide.
"This is for you," he said. "Now listen."
He spent the next hour teaching her the basics. How to stand. How to grip without squeezing too tight. How to swing from the hips, not just the arms. But the real lesson came after.
"Your qi," he said, standing in front of her. "You felt it open yesterday. That small flame inside you. Now you need to use it."
She nodded.
"First, wrap yourself in it. Like a cloak. Thin, but everywhere. It will protect you."
Jin-ah closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed. A faint shimmer appeared around her body barely visible, like heat rising from summer stone.
"Good," Gaon said. "Now push it to your legs. Feel it gather in your calves, your thighs."
The shimmer moved downward.
"Jump."
She jumped. Not a normal jump. She shot into the air three feet, four feet, higher than any eleven-year-old should be able to reach. Her eyes flew open in shock. She landed badly, stumbling forward, but she did not fall.
"I—" She looked at her feet. "I jumped."
"Again," Gaon said. "And this time, when you land, push the qi to your knees to absorb the impact."
She tried again. And again. Within an hour, she was leaping from rock to rock, landing softly, moving faster than any normal child.
"Now the sword," Gaon said.
He had no idea if this would work. He had never channeled qi through a blade. He had never even held a real sword until a few months ago. But he had read about it. Dozens of manuals described the process: push your energy into the weapon, let it become an extension of your body, feel the edge as if it were your own fingernail.
He explained the theory to Jin-ah. She listened carefully, her dark eyes focused on his face.
"Try it," he said.
She closed her eyes. The curved blade rested in her hands. The faint shimmer appeared again not around her body this time, but traveling down her arms, into her fingers, across the steel.
The sword hummed.
Jin-ah opened her eyes. She swung the blade at a low branch hanging over the clearing. The branch fell. The cut was clean, almost polished.
She stared at the fallen branch. Then at the sword. Then at Gaon.
"I did it," she whispered. "I really did it."
Gaon nodded, keeping his face calm. Inside, his heart was pounding.
She can do everything I can't. Everything I only read about.
He smiled at her.
"Good. Now do it again. Ten more times. Then we eat."
After some time, the sun dipped toward late afternoon. Gaon called a halt. Jin-ah lowered her curved sword, her arms trembling from the practice.
"You know how to swing now. At least enough to start."
She nodded, breathing hard.
He stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm but gentle.
"Jin-ah. Are you scared to kill people?"
She looked down at the sword in her hand that her blade was still clean. Just polished metal and the faint glow of her own qi fading from the edge.
"I'm not sure," she said quietly.
Gaon crouched down so his eyes were level with hers.
"Then remember this. When the time comes, and you're about to kill someone, think about how they treated you. The people at the Dig who looked at you like you were nothing."
Her jaw tightened.
"If they deserve death, you won't feel guilty. Because they earned it. And if they don't deserve death—" He paused. "Then you don't kill them. That's the rule. You only kill the ones who have already killed, or who would kill the innocent without hesitation."
She stared at him. Her fingers curled tighter around the sword's grip.
"I think I understand," she said.
Gaon stood up and patted her head.
"Good."
Late night.
They lay prone on a ridge above the road, hidden by thick bushes as moon was half-full, casting pale light across the dirt path below.
Three horses pulled a carriage. No lanterns on the carriage. Just the dark shapes of the driver and a guard sitting beside him.
No bandits in sight. But they were out there. Somewhere.
"Keep calm," Gaon whispered, his breath misting in the cold air. "But be ready."
Jin-ah nodded. Her curved sword lay on the ground beside her, still wrapped in cloth to keep the moonlight from glinting off the blade.
She wanted to be useful. Not just the child who hid behind him, she closed her eyes and focused. The small flame inside her qi flickered as it pushed outward into the space around her.
Feel for other qi. Living things. People hiding.
The world shifted. The trees became faint outlines of energy. The carriage horses glowed dimly. And there off the road, hidden behind a large boulder about two hundred paces ahead three brighter glows. Human. Waiting.
Her eyes snapped open.
"Gaon." She tugged his sleeve. "There are three people. Far from here. Waiting on the side. Behind a big rock."
He did not look at her. His eyes stayed fixed on the road below.
"I know," he said. "We just need to wait."
She stared at him. He knew? He already knew?
But his voice was calm. Certain. As if he had seen them long before she even thought to look.
Her cheeks grew warm beneath her mask. She had wanted to be helpful. Instead, she had told him something he already knew. Like a child showing off a pebble to someone who had already seen the mountain.
She looked away, embarrassed, and said nothing more.
Gaon did not tease her. He just kept watching the road, one hand resting on the hilt of his straight sword.
To Be Continued.