“Me that's like this, you that's like that; we're just enduring another day.”

August D, Honsool

Viscount Kim was waiting for me in the main courtyard when I reported to him that morning, sipping his tea as he held a book in his hand.

“Good morning!” I bade him.

“You’re late,” he replied curtly, “I said at the crack of dawn.”

I looked around. “It is the crack of dawn. See, there is a sliver of light right there.”

He merely pointed to something behind me. “I see another sliver of light, which means that you’re late. What are you wearing?”

I looked down at my clothes. “Do you like my look? I even have a topknot,” I asked, “Gayoon helped to make me men’s clothes that I can use for training.”

“Hmm. You won’t be needing it.”

“Why-”

He opened his book noisily, cutting me off as he read off it loudly. “No talking, asking impertinent questions, or interrupting, unless I say you can.”

He gave me a pointed look as he continued. “No skipping of training, unless you wish to cease it completely,” he read out, “And no duelling or fighting, unless I believe you are ready for it.”

“No storming off, raising your voice, or expressing your anger ridiculously.”

I blew at a stray hair that had fallen over my eye. “Why do I feel like that last one is more suited to Yoongi and not me?” I interjected.

He raised an eyebrow. “Did I say you can interrupt?”

I shut my mouth, shaking my head innocently as I beamed. “No, sir.”

He peered down at me. “Also, if you wish to rile me up, you can stop entertaining such thoughts, because it won’t work.”

I bowed slightly. “Yes, Viscount Kim.”

“I’m glad we understand each other. Now, if you would be so kind as to stand in the middle of the courtyard.”

I grinned excitedly, sprinting to the courtyard as he told. “Are we doing warm-ups? My brother Jungkook always prepares himself before a fight, I definitely know how to stretch,” I said, raising my arms over my head and noticing Viscount Kim’s expression, “Oh, right. No talking.”

He held a bamboo staff in his hand as he walked towards me. “A warrior’s discipline comes not from his physical strength; much of such discipline comes from within,” he said, placing the pole on the ground in front of me, “In his mind. And that will be your first lesson today. Sit down.”

I blinked. “Sit down?”

He nodded, and I did so. “A warrior must learn to clear his mind before battle, to gather his thoughts and to refocus them into his movements. This mental preparation allows them to muster up his - or, in your case, her - courage and endurance, which helps them to fight and win. Today we will begin your training with a very easy task: meditation. Close your eyes, remain still. We will begin when you are done.”

I nodded eagerly, shutting my eyes.

You got this, Eunji.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Yoongi knew it was past dawn when he woke up, with the brightness of his surroundings permeating his eyelids, and he sat up with a start.

Strange, he thought. Viscount Kim hasn’t yet yelled at me for not showing up to class.

He looked around, realizing he must have slept on the floor of the throne room, and his brow furrowed when he saw the empty throne before him.

Had she really visited here last night, or was that but a dream?

Or was it just me starting to be raving mad with my impending doom?

Sighing, he shoved the thought out of his mind. I’m really losing it.

Walking towards his chambers, he noticed how silent it seemed. He was certain it was past his classes, but the viscount was not sitting outside his room rambling about how irritated he was. There were no servants about, as it usually was, but it was the viscount he was always so used to seeing.

Maybe he overslept.

It was an unlikely situation. Viscount Kim almost never made a mistake; that was why he was so confident about himself to the point that it was almost preachy.

Yoongi hurried into his room, where a bowl of lukewarm water waited, along with a set of clothes and his proverbs book. There even was a tray of cold bread.

He was definitely here, he surmised, discovering a handwritten note tucked beside a teacup.

You are on your own today, it said.

Yoongi scoffed. “Are you still upset with me?” he said aloud, crumpling it and tossing it to the side, before splashing his face with water. “We’ll see about that.”

He changed into his new robes, stuffing the bread before he walked to the library briskly, book in hand.

Whatever I thought about Viscount Kim before - especially his pliability to my ability of getting under his skin - was thrown out the window.

The man was as immovable as a large boulder.

I had been sitting in the middle of the courtyard with my eyes shut, and the heat was starting to get to me; i had fidgeted, I had dozed off, I had pretended to cough one too many times, and I was starting to get irritated at the fact that he was just sitting under shade of a tree, fanning himself idly as he read from his book.

He had barely raised his voice.

“I’ve been doing this for hours, don’t you think I should show you what I can do now?” I whined, as he shook his head for the millionth time.

“You clearly have the energy to open your mouth,” he pointed out, as I stuck out my tongue at him.

“But I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“A warrior never quits because of fatigue. Or boredom.”

I scowled. “Easy for you to say. Where’s the Best Young Swordsman now?” I egged.

He shut his eyes. “A warrior also has humility,” he commented, “He does not boast of his achievements, least of all to a child.”

“That isn’t even an insult to me,” I said grumpily, “I am a child.”

He turned the page of his book. “Of course you are. To call you an adult would be a dishonor,” he murmured passively, reaching for his teacup to take a sip, “The sun has been up for but three hours.”

“What am I waiting for, anyway?”

His eyes looked up briefly, meeting mine. “I am waiting.”

I frowned. “For what?”

He sighed contentedly. “If I told you, then it would ruin your first lesson, now, wouldn’t it?” he asked in return, “Besides, perhaps I’m trying to see how many pages I can go in total silence, a feat which I believe impossible now that I am more than halfway done.”

My mouth fell open as I tried to think of a retort, but there was none.

I huffed, my gaze falling to the book he held in his hands. He had begun the morning on the first page, and it seemed as though he were finishing.

I then looked down at the wooden bamboo pole that he had placed in front of me, just within arm’s reach. He had one too, lying at his feet, and I had been ecstatic when he had taken them from the Phoenix Hall, knowing that we were about to do some real fighting.

I had been itching to start, that is, until he asked me to meditate.

What is the use of bringing them when all he does is tell me to sit here, knowing the last thing an impatient person wants to do is be still?

Nevertheless, I sighed, shutting my eyes as I straightened my back as I made yet another attempt at trying to appease my unimpressed teacher.

I tried to ignore the beads of sweat at my collar, at the warm embrace of the sun on my face, at the pins and needles in my legs as I breathed in, and out.

There was no morning breeze, no familiar sounds of the marketplace, save the occasional chirping of the birds in the distance. I could make out the sound of my heartbeat throbbing lazily in my ears, and the increasing heaviness of my body. My shoulders were starting to ache from sitting too long, and it was taking everything in me to restrain myself from slouching and whining again.

I frowned, silencing my discomfort, and tried again, pushing the thoughts of my impatience down.

Truth be told, I wanted to see how far I could go too.

I could hear the faint rustle of Viscount Kim’s page every now and then, and I focused on my breaths as I maintained a steady rhythm.

Stubbornly, I held my tongue as the heat intensified, even as I felt the sweat on my brows, rolling down the bridge of my nose.

This was torture, and I was actually beginning to feel proud of myself until I felt a faint growl somewhere in the back of my consciousness.

Yoongi’s voice was a low rumble. “There you are, Viscount Kim!”

Despite the extremely tempting desire to open my eyes, I merely shut them even more, balling my hands into fists as I remained focused on my task.

“Well, good morning to you too, Master.”

“I’ve been searching for you, what is the meaning of this note?”

Hmm. I wonder what.

“I’ve been otherwise engaged,” came the smooth reply, “It appears you are not the only student I have now, therefore, if you show no initiative in being one, I will channel my attentions to someone who does.”

“What is the meaning of-” he began to protest, when his voice dropped, “Is that- what is she doing in the middle of the courtyard?”

A ripple shuddered through my skin at that, as adrenaline pumped through my veins; he must have noticed me.

Breathe, Eunji.

I heard Viscount Kim chuckle. “She is interested in the art of the sword.”

A gasp. Yoongi. “And you submitted to her demands?”

“Of course. Look at how still she is. Despite her lack of patience, she is holding up better than you did in all your training.”

The unexpected compliment warmed my heart. I felt a little smile creep onto my lips.

“But I am your student!”

“Then act like one. The student comes to the teacher, not the other way around.”

Pitting a teacher and his student; the way your mind works is magical, Jung Eunji.

Viscount Kim sounds like he enjoys it too.

“Eunji!” his voice called, “On your feet!”

I opened my eyes, standing up with as much grace as a drunkard. It was bright, making me squint slightly as I regarded the viscount and Yoongi, who was staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

And then he took in my appearance, looking mildly confused as he stared at my pants.

“Good morning, spirit of the mountain,” I said lightly, “Nice to see you out of your den.”

He scowled. “Stop calling me that.”

I lifted my chin. “Make me,” I t