I am forced awake by my sister and I can't be more grateful. Every so often I have mind-boggling, heart-wrenching dreams, they haunt me when I'm in slumber but when I am snapped out of my reverie the memory of the dream drifts to the teensiest crevices in my head; never to be found. I lumber out of bed, the weight of my body crashing on me like a box full of bricks; I struggle to put one foot in front of the other and my eyes threaten to glue themselves tight. My sister throws one glance over her shoulder before hauling me over to our family's modest washroom and dousing me with chilling ice water.

"Get yourself together! We have to help momma and poppa out!" My sister scolds.

We live in the countryside where all of the livestock and harvest grows. Every day I have to milk to cows, collect eggs from the chickens, groom the horses, and herd the sheep. I am the middle sister; they say the middle has the least character—it’s just a saying but I can't help but agree. Elder sister is engaged to the town merchant's handsome son and my younger sister is a beautiful girl with black locks and the most gorgeous hazel eyes, inherited from our lovely father. I, on the other hand, have murky brown eyes and boring, flat, and wispy brown hair. Elder sister is a lady so she mustn’t be bothered by men’s chores and younger sister is much too dainty and beautiful—mother would never let her near the horses’ stalls, let alone muck them. Poppa has his own duties; so it all falls down to me—I don’t mind, not really anyway. Sometimes I wished I could be beautiful like younger sister or elegant like elder sister but there’s no use wishing for what you can’t have.

“Wonjoo!” Momma calls, I sigh—she probably wants me to do some man-chore for her.

“Yes, momma?” I call back. One must not disrespect their parents; no matter how annoying they are.

“A telegraph came in for you,” Momma announces.

“Really?” I ask, this is exciting business—telegraphs are for important people. Seeing how excited I am younger sister sneers, “I bet you’re being called to the ‘Arena’.”

“Youngjoo!” Elder sister scolds, it’s quite fine really; younger sister never liked me in the first place.

“It’s alright, elder sister. Who knows maybe it is a summons to the Star City.” I say as I rip open my letter. I read the crisp and expensive letter and gasp.

“What is it, sweetie?” Momma asks, the door opens and Poppa walks in with his dirty overalls. He kisses Momma on the cheek and takes his seat at the head of the table.

“It’s a summons.” I manage to say.

“That’s great!” Elder sister encourages.

“No, you don’t understand,” I moan as I sink into my chair.

“Understand what?” Poppa asks, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. Poppa is a big, big man and he has quite and intimidating face but the moment he smiles—he’s like the sun. My news will devastate him to no end.

“I’m being called.” I breathe, there’s no use keeping it in, the sooner the news is out the better it is they say

“What? What atrocious nonsense is this?” Poppa demands as he slams his fists on to the table.

“No, that isn’t possible,” Momma whimpers with a hand to her chest.

Elder sister looks at me with worry and sympathy while younger sister gives me a pompous glance before piping up, “See? I already said so—she’s going to the ‘Arena’ and she won’t come back then maybe we can finally have normal people living her.”

Poppa is enraged and he lifts his hand and beings it down across younger sister’s face. With tears in her beautiful eyes, she storms into her room; Momma and elder sister stay quiet. When Poppa is angry, he is angry—besides it isn’t a woman’s place to stand against a man, Momma knows that and so does elder sister.

I feel remorseful and I have half the mind to chase after younger sister but I think back to what she said and I can’t help but think that she’s right—and in one selfish moment I forget my beautiful younger sister and her pain and I mourn my own sorrows. Momma leans against Poppa and cries while elder sister wraps her thin arms around my shaking shoulders, buries her head into the crook of my neck and cries.

That night, elder sister lays next to me sniffling but sound asleep. I never told my family but the telegraph had a date stamped to it—I needed to leave tonight if I wanted to get to the Star City in time. As I pack my bags, I can’t help but to linger in the memories here. Elder sister is 19, I am 18, and younger sister is 14; when we were little—elder sister and I used to muck around the farm, rolling around the grass getting ourselves dirty. Younger sister came when I was four and elder sister was five—the moment she opened her eyes Momma fell in love; she was always babied. Poppa and I were the close ones and I have a niggling feeling that that was the reason why younger sister despised me so much. I remember a few times where younger sister would try and get Poppa to praise her beauty like all the townsmen and Momma did, instead he would scold her for being pompous; she would turn to glare at me, who was sitting atop Poppa’s lap watching her with owl eyes. I can’t but to feel guilty, not only did I take Poppa away from her but because of me Poppa lashed out at her—striking her lovely face with his rough calloused hands.

With one rough tug, my bag latches closed and I haul it down the hall, out of the door and down the rocky road. I walk for a good hour before I get into town—I need to visit an old friend of mine if I want to get anywhere near the Star City in three days’ time.

I come across a cottage with a star adorned on the door before roughly knocking, I know for a fact that he is alone.

“Yah, Sungjong!” I call; this boy is so indolent it’s like asking him to mar his own face to answer the door.

 “What?” He grumbles through the door before pulling it open—he’s dressed in a white button-up shirt, an obvious haste decision, which isn’t buttoned at all.

 “I need your help,” I say, knowing that he will help me.

“Come in,” he grunts. He launches himself into his nice armchair and stares up at me with his brown eyes. I remember when I was twelve and I was convinced that I was in love with him. He is older than me though and he is set to marry a maiden from town but I would always harbor some tender feelings toward him.

“I need a fast way into the Star City.” I say.

“Why?” He demands, a questioning gaze is thrown at me.

“I was chosen to fight in the Arena.” I mumble, I really don’t want to devastate him—I am his only family left with his parents gone.

“What?” He asks, outraged, “do you really think that I would help you in any way? This fight is to your death—what makes you think that I will help you perish?”

“You have to. You and my family will die and so will I. You know it—don’t choose to ignore it, Sungjong.” I chide.

“Fine, there’s a carriage coming for me in one hour—you’ll go in my place. It’s nothing important I just needed to deliver something to a resident there; you’ll deliver it and then the carriage will take you to wherever you need to go, got it?” He negotiates; the perks of being a merchant I reckon.

“Yes, thank you so much. “ I say; standing to bow. One must always give thanks and bow when one receives help from others. No matter how casual you are with the other.

The carriage arrives one hour later as Sungjong said and I climb aboard. Before I leave I steal a quick kiss; knowing it will be the last, and only, time I will be able to convey my feelings to him. As we ride away I steal a quick glance back and he has tears rolling down his face, his fingers still lingering over his lips. I bring my own hand to my lips and they are still tingling; tears roll down my face and soon I am breaking down into sobs that rack my whole body.

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Hi you guys! :)

This will be the first and last Author's Note for this fic.

I will have an Info chapter when I finish this fic :)

I hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 1,481

-Jay :)