Genre: Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Summary: They have all heard the songs; the Prince and his childhood friend are a pair of fate threaded in one line. Hyewon is neither.

Word Count: 12000

Hashtag: #IntoTheKangBiVerse_WeAreAllStoriesInTheEnd

 

We Are All Stories in the End

 

The universe blinks into existence.

 

***

 

For as long as Hyewon remembers, she has always worked at the farm.

She takes care of the cattle and the chickens in the morning and brings the dairy products to the market at noon, selling them and in turn buying the things she needs, ingredients and clothes and sometimes a piece of metal. She has to say that she likes the owner of the bakery the most. Lee Chaeyeon is just around her age, chipper and friendly and not hesitant to add a bonus bread into Hyewon’s basket every once in a while.

There are other stalls. Other citizens, too, though Hyewon feels like her interactions with them are just repeated encounters. Sometimes there’s a smile, or a grunt, or the elderly living just beside the river would glare at her approaching figure like she has offended the fairies tending to the elderly’s garden.

(Hyewon tries to not come to the elderly’s stall, if she could help it. The vegetables are various and big, but the memory of the glare turns her away. She can deal with slightly small veggies. She does not use a lot when she cooks anyway.)

For as long as Hyewon remembers, this is her life. She rouses at dawn and goes through her routine, devoting her time to her farm and spending the night with pieces of metal or trying out a new recipe. She’s content being known as the farmer of the forest hut, where she lives, close to the grass patches between the forest edges and the bridge.

Sure, sometimes she wishes weeding the grass and making animals feed wasn’t so time-consuming, but that disgruntled crumple of her shirt will always smoothen out whenever morning comes and she pours the feed to the tune of low moos and hurried clucks. In time, she is content.

She is a content farmer.

 

***

 

The universe blinks into existence. 

 

***

 

“Blacksmith.”

For as long as Hyewon remembers, she is a farmer. She works at her farm, lives through her farm, and breathes with her farm. She is, by all means and purposes, a farmer.

So she turns slowly, at the call, a pinprick of curiosity tugging her movements. She stops and sees a woman with shoulder-length hair, cloak coloured in purple, face unmistakably Eunbi, and oh.

Hyewon remembers her too.

She takes off her gloves and hangs them around the rim of the crate filled with milk. “I should stop responding to that,” Hyewon says, raising from the ground. She faces Eunbi with a furrow to her eyebrows. “I’m a farmer.”

“Blacksmith,” Eunbi repeats, unapologetic. She steps through the door of Hyewon’s house like it is any other stall in the marketplace and says, “I need a sword.”

“The merchants will come to town tomorrow.” Hyewon hopes they have a heater she could place in the barn; little Timmy broke it by accident last week, and winter is only two weeks away.

“Blacksmith.” Eunbi sounds exasperated, and Hyewon matches it easily with a grunt of her own, gaze meeting gaze just as stubborn.

“I told you I’m a farmer.”

“Not always. You used to dream of becoming something else.”

A second ticks, and a strange knot inside Hyewon’s chest snaps. “Rich of you to come marching in after seasons, claiming you know me better than I do.”

She peels her gaze away from Eunbi’s stunned pause, bending down to curl a steady grip on both sides of the crate. She hoists it up with a huff and walks away, the bottles of milk clattering with every footstep she takes.

She remembers Eunbi. Remembers, because the recollection is not recent, does not feel recent.

Still, the moment Eunbi as much as utters blacksmith, Hyewon responds. As though it’s only yesterday she last heard the misplaced title used in lieu of her name. She lets twist into a frown, and places the crate onto the table she has finally arrived by.

Eunbi.

A wielder of magic. A familiar presence in Hyewon’s memory. A person known to practically everyone else as—

Oh.

Hyewon runs one palm over her face and suppresses a resigned sigh. She turns around and goes to where she knows Eunbi will be, still standing by the door like Hyewon has never left.

“Blacksmith.” Eunbi is ready to try again.

“You are asking for the Prince,” Hyewon cuts in, and Eunbi bites her lower lip. If there was a dialogue blurb above their heads, she can almost see Eunbi’s response. Dot dot dot.

Hyewon narrows her eyes. “The Prince has plenty of swords.”

“Not one that matters.” This time Eunbi moves, finally, though only to take a step forward. Closer to Hyewon’s standing. “We need a sword capable of holding an amount of magic. The merchants don’t have that.”

Hyewon studies Eunbi’s face. She said ‘we’. They would probably go on a mission together, the Prince and his childhood friend. How sweet. How heroic. How foolish.

Hyewon feels her lips twitch, but looks away before it could amount to anything noticeable. “I’m not a blacksmith.”

“Hyewon.” The soft sound of her name draws her attention back to Eunbi, but the latter is staring at the table pressed up against the wall, below the window.

Pieces of metal are scattered upon the wooden top, forged into shapes and forms resembling the sketches drawn on a spread blueprint. Hyewon’s stomach churns.

Eunbi looks back at her after a moment, a tentative smile on her face.

“Please. You’re the only one who can do it.”

At the end of the day, Hyewon can’t remember a time where she’s able to say no to the Prince’s childhood friend.

“Give me three days.”

She never does.

 

***

 

The universe blinks into existence.

 

***

 

The merchants have quite a collection of heaters. Hyewon buys three, and places one in the barn, keeping the two as spares should little Timmy’s streak of misfortune continues and one of her chickens inhales the contagious clumsiness.

The next days are routines, as usual, save for the nights where Hyewon locks herself away to forge the sword.

Three days have finally passed and, a few minutes into the night, Eunbi opens her door as promised. Hyewon half-expects the Prince to trail behind her, but the door closes after Eunbi fully steps into her home.

She turns away from the unlabelled feeling the Prince’s absence evokes, gesturing to the sheathed sword on the table.

Eunbi approaches and makes to reach for it, but pauses. She turns to look at Hyewon. Her extended hand comes to rest on top of an armor, constructed entirely too slim to fit the built body of the Prince.

“Blacksmith,” Eunbi begins.

“It’s nothing,” Hyewon cuts in. She is too tired to defend why, halfway into making the sword, she found herself forging the very thing now lying under Eunbi’s palm.

But she throws out a defense anyway. “I had too much spare metal.”

Eunbi takes in the explanation with a slight raise of her eyebrows. “But not enough to make one for the Prince?”

“Exactly.”

Eunbi smiles at her, then. “Thank you, Blacksmith,” she says, and for a moment she looks like she’s about to say something more. She visibly ponders, weighing a choice between two, before she finally clears and tilts her head at the sword.

“Would you want to see me charge it with magic?”

Hyewon stares at her. Biting back a question. Do you have the luxury of spending time with me?

She takes a step back, pulling away from the question. She shakes her head.

“Oh,” Eunbi says. And her expression softens under the poor light of Hyewon’s low-quality lamp, the sword taken in one hand and the armor hugged into her chest with another. “I suppose… I should leave, then.”

“Yeah.”

She watches as Eunbi straps the sword to her belt, slow footsteps approaching her door. Eunbi opens it and pauses, facing Hyewon with a smile she can only interpret as regretful.

How odd.

“I’ll see you around?”

Hyewon shrugs. “You probably won’t.”

The closing of the door afterwards is quiet, Eunbi disappearing into the night. Hyewon expels a breath, ambling forward to lock it. She turns away and looks around, not at all thinking of the unnamed flicker she saw in Eunbi’s eyes a moment after her reply.

Then her eyes catch the sight of a brown pouch on the table that was not there before.

“Payment,” Hyewon mumbles to herself, moving to retrieve it. The materials she used to forge were hardly expensive, but she is not about to refuse money. Maybe the merchants will still be there tomorrow, and she will be able to purchase a few bright lanterns for her hut.

She lifts the pouch, and blinks when the act reveals a piece of folded parchment slipped underneath the money bag. That was not there before, either. She reaches out and unfolds it, eyes narrowing at the scribbled note held within.

In case I didn’t get to be brave,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t around as much as I should have.
I missed you.
I just wanted to tell you that.

Hyewon places the pouch back, over the note. She casts a glance towards the door, and thinks back to the moment of hesitation after Eunbi thanked her for the armor. She thinks back to the small pause by the door, the regretful smile.

“Bullsh*t,” she says to herself, pulling away from both the table and the moments.

This would not matter, come tomorrow. She will be tucked away inside her farm, back in her normal life, and Eunbi will do the same—sticking by the side of the Prince, chasing after dangers to protect the kingdom from harm’s way and perhaps—perhaps more.

They have all heard the songs, anyway.

The Prince and his childhood friend are a pair of fate threaded in one line.

 

***

 

The universe blinks into existence.

 

***

 

A few days pass, uneventful. Little Timmy has stayed far away from the newly installed heater, and for that Hyewon is thankful. Elderly Mo seems to watch him from the corner of the barn, huffing loudly whenever Timmy looks at the heater too long.

He is too old to produce milk but Hyewon doesn’t have the heart to sell him, even though the butcher has told her he’d go for a high price. Mo has been with her, for as long as she remembers, way before Timmy and the other cows. It feels wrong to send him out. So Hyewon leaves him be, trusts him to watch over the younger cows, pours his feed and pats him last before she exits the barn.

The next stop after a morning shower is the market. Hyewon does as she usually would, selling her dairy products and buying foods. She is in the middle of pondering which bread to take when a commotion sounds from behind her, and—

“Blacksmith!”

Hyewon ignores the call, pointing at the glazed bagels. She looks up at Chaeyeon and says, “I want two of these.”

Chaeyeon blinks at her. “Um,” she says, when the word blacksmith rings across the street once again. “I think the Prince’s childhood friend is calling for you.”

Hyewon stares. “Not you too,” she says, betrayal trickling into her words, but Chaeyeon just smiles and gestures vaguely to something behind her, and Hyewon closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and finally turns.

Eunbi is already ambling towards her, ing herself through the crowd and leaving the Prince behind to deal with awed villagers. Hyewon’s gaze falls to the brownish hue soaking the other’s right arm, and a squirm starts inside her chest.

She was in a hurry when she handled that part of the armor.

So she walks towards her, leaving her basket with Chaeyeon, and her hands already reach out to hold Eunbi’s elbows steady when they are close enough to touch.

“What in the Oneiric had you been doing?” she breathes out.

Eunbi blinks up at her, the glint in her eyes surprised. “The north mountains,” she says, and glances at the bakery stall. She squints a little. “Have you always come here at this hour?”

Hyewon ignores the question. “Your right arm is hurt.”

“Half of it isn’t my own blood.” Eunbi rests one palm over Hyewon’s hold and squeezes gently, “I’m fine. Just tired.” She smiles at her, “I’m glad to see you here.”

Hyewon furrows her brows, releasing the latter’s elbows and stepping back. She resists the urge to wipe her hands against the front of her shirt. “Go home and rest, then.”

“Can’t. The Prince needs to find the elderly wizard first and report our findings.”

“He can find him alone. This is his kingdom.”

Eunbi giggles. Hyewon’s eyebrows rise. “I can hardly go home without him,” Eunbi tells her, swaying a little on her feet and most likely near delirious, “people will ask.”

Hyewon’s lips twist into a frown. She turns around, back into the bakery stall, and tells Chaeyeon to wrap the glazed bagels, pausing and pointing at a loaf of bread a second later. All the while, she can feel Eunbi’s presence behind her, but she pretends she can ignore it as she counts the golden coins in her pouch and pays.

Chaeyeon smiles and adds a muffin into her basket, waving her thanks away.

“I’d think living in the palace doesn’t have any drawbacks,” she finally says, leaving the stall and facing Eunbi again. Eunbi makes a face at that, and Hyewon sighs. “I guess there’s one, if you’re joined at the hip with the Prince.”

“Blacksmith—”

“Come to my hut and you can rest a while,” Hyewon intones. She turns away, starting to walk. Her hut is no palace, but she bought a fluffy cushion from the merchants a day before they left. That should suffice.

That should be enough to repay her careless mistake with the armor.

 

***

 

The universe blinks into existence.

 

***

 

Hyewon spends the next morning longer in the chicken coop. She turns on the heater, because winter is near and the morning is already colder. She takes her time in collecting the eggs and indulges Cooky when the little gives her a chase. She lingers by the door with the emptied container of poultry feed, and it’s only when the eldest hen—Cherry—clucks at her that she finally relents and goes to leave.

She has just finished locking the coop when a voice says, “I didn’t find you when I woke up.”

Hyewon closes her eyes and sighs. She turns to face the Prince’s childhood friend, blanket wrapped around her frame like a morning burrito.

“You’re getting my blanket dirty.”

“I’ll clean it before I leave.”

“With magic?” Hyewon scoffs. “Your magic reserves are low. That’s why you slept like a log.” Hyewon walks forward, towards her and then past. She barely glances back as she says,

“Come in. It’s cold.”

She goes back into her house without waiting for an answer, but Eunbi, thankfully, follows. She places the empty container down next to the door and walks into the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves. She removes the creamy chicken soup from the stove and fills two bowls with it.

“Sit down,” she says at Eunbi’s hovering, placing the steaming bowls on the table. Eunbi complies. After making sure that Eunbi is seated, Hyewon leaves the table and takes out the loaf of bread she bought from Chaeyeon, slicing them into cubes. “You can go ahead and eat,” she says over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Eunbi asks, curious. Hyewon doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t need to because Eunbi asks again, a long beat later:

“Are you making croutons?”

“I have too much bread,” Hyewon simply says.

Eunbi falls silent. Hyewon’s ears pick up the sound of a spoon moving a second later, and her shoulders imperceptibly relax.

It isn’t long before she comes back to the table, placing a plate of freshly made croutons and pulling her bowl towards herself. Eunbi’s bowl is half empty when she takes a glance, and Hyewon pushes the croutons towards her.

“Thank you,” Eunbi says.

Hyewon shrugs, “I know you love them.” She takes a spoonful of her soup, and they eat mostly in silence. Despite having a head-start, the croutons slow Eunbi down and Hyewon empties her bowl first.

There isn’t much to tell afterwards. She cleans her plate and Eunbi does the same when she finishes, with a small smile that tells her she’s satisfied with the meal. Hyewon doesn’t let herself ponder about that, and goes to retrieve the armor she has fixed while Eunbi was asleep.

Eunbi blinks at her, surprised. “You don’t have to.”

Hyewon doesn’t look at her, keeping her gaze fixed at the armor Eunbi holds. “I do have to. I didn’t do a good enough job before.” Her eyes flit towards Eunbi’s shoulder, and the motion isn’t lost on the latter.

“This wound wasn’t your fault,” Eunbi instantly says. Hyewon looks away, and Eunbi sighs.

“Blacksmith, I’m serious. Were it not for your armor, I would have been injured way more severely than I did.”

“Eh.” Hyewon curtly shrugs, looking away. “I guess. Not my business either way.”

“Hyewon.”

The sound of her name forces her to look at Eunbi again. Eunbi is chewing on her bottom lip, staring at her intently like she’s trying to—read her.

“You are different,” Eunbi says, carefully.

Hyewon is silent for a moment. “Or you have an idealized version of me in your mind,” she finally says at length, in response. Her reply causes Eunbi’s expression to fall, and Hyewon thinks she does a good job pretending her chest doesn’t give out an unspoken twinge at that.

“What do you think I’m like, anyway?”

Eunbi swallows, lips twitching without a sound. She seems to be thinking, weighing her answer. Hyewon doesn’t know why she’d bother. Fate doesn’t bind them into a thread, and Eunbi doesn’t have to repeatedly come to Hyewon. How Hyewon acts around her shouldn’t be a big deal.

Whoever Hyewon is, Eunbi shouldn’t have cared.

“You are warm,” Eunbi says, her voice parting the dense questions in Hyewon’s head.

Hyewon frowns. Eunbi glances away and continues,

“You don’t… talk much, which is the only thing that stays the same, I think. You… don’t hold back from admitting that you care. You don’t hide behind excuses like having too much metal or bread or time in your hands. And you used to smile whenever I called you Blacksmith. Because you loved forging things I could wield with m—”

“Will you be happy if I do all those things you mentioned?” Hyewon quietly cuts in, fingernails digging deep into her palms.

Eunbi halts. She chances a look at Hyewon, swallowing. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Eunbi repeats, softer. “I won’t be happy. Not if I indirectly forced you to.” She visibly hugs the armor tighter, and smiles sadly.

“I’m sorry, Blacksmith. You are right. I have an image of you in my mind, forgetting that I lost the right to it when we… parted ways.”

Hyewon doesn’t say anything to that. She still doesn’t say anything when Eunbi bows and says thanks, still staying mum when Eunbi goes to open the door and pauses, turning slightly to face her.

I’ll see you around?

She can hear the question, spoken by the Eunbi of the past, but the current Eunbi doesn’t say it. She just smiles, and steps out of the hut. Hyewon watches as the door closes, and stands still until a gust of the beginning of winter wind rattles the frame a long, long flurry of seconds later.

Her clenched fists loosen.

She moves, then, to lock the door.

 

***

 

The universe blinks into existence.

 

***

 

For as long as Hyewon remembers, she has always worked at the farm and lived a routine. The bed. The farm. The marketplace. The bakery stall, and then the room in her hut where she forges whatever piece of metal she manages to bring home.

For as long as Hyewon remembers, her place is this small hut. Tucked away near the forest and across the grass patches between the edges of the dense trees, towards the bridge. The palace is a long walk from here, and a good thing it is, because it makes it easy to turn her back on it, to pretend that part of the kingdom does not exist. Because you can’t visit a place that is not there. Because Hyewon used to want to see Eunbi so, so much—and distance discouraged her from acting on that fruitless urge.

Because for as long as Hyewon remembers, she has lost Eunbi to the palace, the childhood friend of the Prince. Asked by the royal family to accompany him learn and grow. Claimed by the elderly wizard of the palace as the other piece of the Prince’s pair. Taken away, by fate, from—

Hyewon draws the curtain close, the panes of glass starting to frost. The cows and the chickens produce less when it’s winter, and she can get away with only visiting the marketplace twice a week. The stock of feed she has saved up for all year long should be enough to last her through the season, until the grass patches grow green again.

Hyewon crouches before her fireplace, stoking pieces of dry woods into the faint ember and watching as the fire comes alive. She stays still, hunching near it and by its warmth, and—

In case I didn’t get to be brave,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t around as much as I should have.

Hyewon furrows her eyebrows tightly.

She doesn’t like pain. Who does? Not her. And that’s why she’s doing this, avoiding Eunbi and not falling back to whatever perceived familiarity Eunbi was trying to regain. Because letting her back in—letting her occupy a space in Hyewon’s days again—feels like a future of pain. Because even keeping her an arm away already makes her ache, and Hyewon is merely trying to protect herself from further hurt.

It exasperates her that doing so seems to hurt Eunbi.

A mere quest to get her make a sword for the Prince shouldn’t give Eunbi the right to look hurt in front of Hyewon’s coldness. She got the sword, by the promised day, with an armor to boot. That should be the end. A mere quest to heal after a magical burn-out shouldn’t give Eunbi the right to look pained in the face of Hyewon’s feigned indifference, and yet—

Hyewon expels a breath, feeling her face warm. It’s the fire, she tells herself, hugging her knees.

I missed you.
I just wanted to tell you that.

She sighs.

A tear trickles down her cheek, and she lowers her head, muttering a curse. At winter, for being so damn cold. At the ashes of dry wood, for getting into her eyes. And at her heart, for aching so desperately, like a fool.

For as long as Hyewon remembers, she has always loved Eunbi.

And there’s no space for her feelings in the landscape of fate.

 

/

//

///

 

Sunday, May 10th 2026
From    : createsnorama@xxxxxxx
To    : 39saku_chan@xxxxxxx
Subject: Re: PANORAMA 11th feedback round-up

Thank you again for compiling the data I requested. I’m sorry I asked for a lot. Are you enjoying the game so far?

-

Monday, May 11th 2026
From    : 39saku_chan@xxxxxxx
To    : createsnorama@xxxxxxx
Subject: Re: Re: PANORAMA 11th feedback round-up

You’re welcome! ‘Twas a galaxy brain move by the way, to check out twitter’s reception too. Some of the betas have been making quite a buzz there, apparently. A few of them have quite the following.

(They echo my sentiments by the way. The childhood friend mains rejoiced so ing loud when the blacksmith warms up to them—AND WE COULD ING CALL HER HYEWON NOW—pardon my choice of word. All of this to say, YES WHAT THE HELL, of course I’m enjoying the game. You’re doing great!)

-

Saturday, May 16th 2026
From    : createsnorama@xxxxxxx
To    : 39saku_chan@xxxxxxx
Subject: Re: Re: Re: PANORAMA 11th feedback round-up

Okay were you ever going to tell me that the Prince mains collectively think that the rival prince is hot

Or was I just supposed to read that on the twitter reception feedback sheet myself

(I’m glad you enjoyed it!)

-

Saturday, May 16th 2026
From    : 39saku_chan@xxxxxxx
To    : createsnorama@xxxxxxx
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: PANORAMA 11th feedback round-up

Oh my sweet summer child. Wait until you see your game’s AO3 tag

 

///

//

/

 

The universe blinks into existence.

 

***

 

Something shifts, in the air.

Hyewon looks up as she steps out of the chicken coop, carefully balancing a box of eggs she has just retrieved in her arms. The sky colours in blue, reflecting summer, and Hyewon squints, trying to recall.

Sometimes, there are days where the air is odd. She would not be the only villager noticing; Chaeyeon tells her faster than Hyewon can bring it up, sometimes, raising concerns about the stillness of her birds. Last spring the oddness of the air was followed by nights filled with banelings—underworld monsters—attack. Eunbi paid her a visit once a week, checking up on her animals, and Hyewon forged two sets of bows and silver arrows for her to take.

(“Would you want to see me charge these with magic?”

The question was spoken faintly, Eunbi’s gaze firmly on the forged weapons. Hyewon watched her fidget for a moment, before allowing herself a smile.

“Not here,” she said. “Your offensive magic will scare little Timmy into breaking the heater.” She stepped towards the door, opened it, and held it as she tilted her head at a blinking Eunbi.

“Coming or not? No one should be near the bridge at this hour.”

It was slow, but was made all the more beautiful because of it: Eunbi’s lips twitched first, and, in the following seconds, they curved up into a relieved smile that almost forced Hyewon to look away if only so her cheeks would stop growing warm.

“All right.”)
 

Hyewon closes her eyes, pulling away from that bit of memory. She goes into her hut and places the box of eggs on the kitchen table.

It is not always bad. It was not bad news, the latest time this happened. Her cows produced nearly double the usual amount of milk, and have stayed within that productivity rate until today. There was that time where the merchants started to stay longer in town after the airshift, too, prices slightly lower than they should be.

There is also that time the air felt strange and the Prince visited her for the first time. Bearing a request for a body armor, not unlike Eunbi’s, and when he asked at the end of it if she wouldn’t mind him paying another visit in the future, she couldn’t resist to give him a look and a shrug.

Send in Eunbi instead, she had told him, watching his expression grow chastised. She knows how to handle me better. 

The Prince has not visited her again since.

Hyewon looks down at the eggs and purses her lips. She starts a little late, today, which adds to the oddity of the atmosphere. The man she usually sells her dairy to would have packed his stuffs up, by now, and she has hold off from purchasing a fridge which she would need if she wants to store her goods until tomorrow. 

She mulls over her options, only managing to do it for a few seconds before a heavy knock to her door interrupts her thoughts. Hyewon blinks, arms unravelling, and goes to open it.

The moment she cracks her door open, Eunbi falls forward, almost towards the ground, Hyewon’s surprise thankfully shoved aside by her instinct to reach out and curl her arms around Eunbi’s crumpling form.

“By the Oneiric,” Hyewon exhales, holding her up— “Eunbi? What happened?”

Heavy breaths fan the curve of Hyewon’s neck and shoulder.

“I need to sit down,” Eunbi heaves, faint.

“Okay,” Hyewon says, alarmed.

She helps Eunbi in, closing the door with a blind reach and pull of her hand. It is then that she notices the sword Eunbi drags along, as well as the quiet wince Eunbi produces when Hyewon’s hold slips down towards her midsection for a moment.

“You are hurt.”

“A little,” Eunbi admits. Hyewon lowers her down into the cushioned chair, and hovers by for a moment.

“You told me it would just be a little mission,” Hyewon recalls. Eunbi had shared about it last week, when they met at Chaeyeon’s bakery in the marketplace. “Just a mission to the valley. Bandits and wild animals, nothing big.”

“…They have grown stronger,” Eunbi says. She closes her eyes, and Hyewon reaches out to touch her forehead, tucking strands of hair aside. “We were careless with our energy. A rogue mage intercepted us near the end, and I took a nasty curse to my stomach so the Prince could catch him by surprise and deliver the last strike.”

Hyewon retracts her hand, and Eunbi’s eyes flutter open.

“I’ll fetch my aid kit,” Hyewon says. She is no mage, but for as long as she remembers—she’s always kept a chest of healing potions and first aid kit under her bed. From back when Eunbi would practice her magic while Hyewon refined the sketches of weapons from analysing Eunbi’s movements, where they gathered and made and purchased medical stuff