On the first fire, I crouched down as low as I could onto the floor, and shots went on in what felt like a 30-second warfare in some wasteland in Iraq. There were eleven gunshots. She fired all eleven rounds of her pistol’s high-capacity magazine.⁺

As I inhaled the residual scent of gunfire, I tried my hardest to sense if blood was dripping from my head or if my head was there at all. I could not mistake her pulling the trigger of the gun that aimed at my face. Even with a single bullet, it would be impossible for my skull and its precious contents to persist unscathed, but I didn’t feel even a trickle of blood. I didn’t feel any pain.

I thought, maybe I was dead. And I died for pissing someone off. If so, what a moronic way to die. It would have been a death more hideous and useless than my mother’s.

But I wasn’t dead. I was just dazed with my ears buzzing. But the buzzing wasn’t that of a bee but of a helicopter stuck in my ear canal. The massive ringing went rabid by the second and my heart was springing up my throat going 180 beats per minute. At that rate, I might have fainted or out. And I mean that in the real medical sense.

I couldn’t organize all the stimuli around me to conceive logic out of what happened. I couldn’t be certain if the girls spoke or if they even moved, but I brought myself up slowly. Albeit I still wasn’t sure if I was alive or was already in a spirit-wandering state, I still had the pride to control my trembling in case they were looking at me.

After hearing the song played overhead, it dawned on me that I was indeed alive. I knew it was Umji’s half-satirical playlist booming within the firing range. For a moment, I felt some relief hearing the music, but the Bee cut short the unfolding theme song which I found out later on was because of Sowon’s interference. The sound fading made my ears ring again to the aftershock.

I raised my head slowly fighting the commotion inside my ear. And there she was, expressionless and still holding the gun half-lowered with her left hand. But there was something else that I did not expect to see.

Tears.

Yerin was crying. With all the hostility and intimidating stance, she was betrayed by her eyes that evinced not anger but unbearable sadness. Every tear that fell made me regret that I ever opened my mouth.

I might have told Umji that a better song would have been Devil May Cry. But after seeing all her pretenses crumble in front of me, I couldn’t find a single reason to despise her. Instead of becoming angered by my almost-murder, I wanted to run to her, hug her and prevent the rest of her defensive walls from completely falling apart. It took a few seconds of enduring her tear-laden stares before I could move toward her.

“HAJIMA!” And she pointed her gun at me for the second time. If there was a single thing I was sure of that moment was that her gun’s magazine was empty, but it was reflex that I halted at the sight of gunpoint.

And at that point, I saw how from the devil that she was that she started shedding off all the hatred and menace I’ve always thought she epitomized. Now all I could see was a defenseless being struggling to collect herself before all her human vulnerability became fully exposed.

Hell might have raged against me that day but the kiss of its sweltering fire led me to see the Yerin who was void of her sinister guise.

And she was a heavenly sight.

As sadistic as it may seem, I felt happy seeing her cry. I was happy because I knew I was seeing the real her, and she was terrifyingly beautiful.

It took five more seconds of recalculating the number of bullets she fired before I decidedly made a step forward. But before I could take another one, she threw the guns toward my direction that they landed a few inches from my feet.

Guns. Yes, she held another with her right hand. Both guns flung onto the floor. That fact caused me to freeze again.

She didn’t want to hit me, all she wanted was to prevent me from coming near. Immediately after, she darted to the door and disappeared, expectedly not saying another word.

I only returned to consciousness after hearing the electric target placement suddenly moving closer. The sheet slowly made its way through the lane and smacked the back of my head before it continued to tread toward the booth where it stopped. From where I stood, I saw how the glaring light from the florescent bulbs passed through the large void at the heart of the sheet. The entire circumference of the 10-point aiming mark was gone and not a single bullet hole was found outside it.

“I- I’m sorry. I- I don’t know-.” I uttered as I absentmindedly scoured my ears off the foam plugs that got pushed too far in when I forcefully pressed on my temples earlier.

With every step, I felt the weight of the world in my heart; I staggered and my knees just started to give up. Yuju sprinted to my side before my face lunged to the floor. I can’t even recall how my feet brought me to the other side of the booths, but I did and I approached the benches trembling.

“You’re still alive with all anatomical parts intact. You might suffer from partial hearing loss though.” Umji's voice was just matter-of-factly, not a tad concerned.

“I see you had the best time of your life out there.”

“Stop it, Eunha! Can’t you see she’s not okay?” Yuju stood straight in front of me still partially supporting my weight.

“I- I’m okay, it’s okay. It’s my fault.”

“I’ll go up and get you water.”

“Yuju-eonnie, no, I’m okay.” I said as I was reaching for the coffee. I didn’t feel thirsty, but there was that urge to do something aside from sitting embarrassed, trying to calm my mind and breathing.

“Caffeine will only amplify the marching inside your chest.” Umji reminded.

“A tequila shot could calm your nerves; too bad I’m not bringing my first aid liquor kit.” Eunha giggled, obviously entertained by the pallor that drenched my face.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you grow old an alcoholic.”

“Sowon-ah, if I end up a drunkard, it’ll only be because I have intoxicating charm. Or who knows, maybe you will be the one drunk of it!”

I know Sowon could only snarl or roll her eyes to Eunha’s retaliation.

“I’ll get water.”

“Yuju-eonnie, just use the intercom and have them send it down.”

Ten minutes have passed but my heart was still at the 100 beats per minute mark. The others went back to shooting while Yuju sat beside me, asking me how I was every five seconds through the seclusion of my earmuffs. Eventually the palpitations and fear evanesced and I regained my composure to talk.

They finished a set before crowding around me again.

“How didn’t I get shot?”

“No… the bullets didn’t ricochet to the adrenaline-driven pulsations.” Umji replied while handing me one of the guns that Yerin tossed earlier like she was negating the thoughts I was brewing in my head. “Neither was it magic. She fired a blank at you first.”

“When you ducked, she started shooting with this.” Sowon took the other gun from the table, dropped the empty magazine. She pulled the slide back, and a bullet was spitted out of the barrel.

The sound of the bullet’s metal casing hitting the floor caused me to suddenly gasp for air and the memory of Yerin pointing the gun to my head flashed before me. More a moment, I lived the scene again.

I realized then that I was wrong about her firing all the rounds. There were eleven gunshots. One was blank. There was still one bullet in her gun when she aimed at me.

“Yup! There was still one.” As if Eunha knew what I was thinking. “I admire your audacity though, for taking that step. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“You know Yerin-eonnie would not do that.”

“Yuju-yah, you know better that Yerin-eonnie is very capable.”

“I know. But there are only certain circumstances that will make her kill someone and this isn’t one of them.”

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“Next time, heed my advice, but more so, listen to what I’m not saying.” Umji’s words were vague but the lesson she wanted me to learn was clear as daylight. “I told you, her being here was enough.”

“I know now.” I accepted my defeat. “But why?”

“For one, she never joined group shooting practices. In all those years I trained with her, she never showed up to any firearms exercise.” Sowon’s emphasis on the word ‘never’ made the guilt even more unbearable.

“Honestly, I don’t know what brought her here today, but this was definitely the first.”

“We never really bothered not seeing her practice because we all know she’s good. She has unbelievable skills in archery and shooting.”

“Her skills are unearthly, definitely not human. Even that one time that I got her really drunk, her shooting was still flawless.”

“I remember that day too. Her accuracy was down to the millimeter.”

“Rumor has it that her family owned a firing range that’s why she got acquainted with guns at a young age. We never verified that story and nobody dared to ask.” Sowon added.

“It’s inane to question her skills.” Umji finally handed me the iced coffee. “And if you must know, she’s an ambidextrous shooter.”

“And above all these..." Sowon tapped my shoulder. "...It was the first time we saw her cry.” She continued to pat my arm like she was telling me that I did a good job... Yeah, I did… at screwing up. How could I have been such a dickhead?

In my head was fireworks of screaming and cursing to mixed regret and awe as I listened to them intently. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought that it was post-traumatic stress that caused me to change the way I think and feel for Yerin. Or worse, that I might be inflicted with Stockholm syndrome where one suddenly develops sympathy over one’s attacker. But I didn’t feel sympathy, nor was I attacked.

It was nowhere near those causalities. There was something more that happened to me. Something compulsively intimate and incomprehensible.

I was interrupted in my deep thoughts by the rhythmic vibration inside my pocket.

ES: Remind me again where to find the pointy horns

SB: Down here in the basement

ES: On your head?

SB: Yeah

ES: I thought so. I watched through the cameras

SB: I figured

ES: I saw her ran out the door too

SB: How was she?

ES: Definitely not how she was when she got in

SB: …

ES: Not the devil, is she?

SB: She’s the opposite

ES: Changed your mind about her?

SB: Yeah

ES: Boy, you’re screwed

SB: Definitely

⁺High-capacity magazines usually contain 11 rounds.

⁺⁺ “Battlefield” by Jordin Sparks