I wait in my room for ten more minutes until the same Capital worker knocks on my door. When I go into the hall, the other finalists are waiting for him to all of us to dinner. I can feel the tension in the air as we walk. Our feet hardly make a sound on the tiled floor, and our whispers barely make it out of our lips. Everyone is ready to finish the competition. Everyone is ready to hear the results and be rewarded with the coveted position.

We arrive at a large hall with a long table and throne-like chairs on either side. Crystal and silver cutlery glitter from the varnished wood. Plates piled high with meat, fruits, vegetables, and bread are set off by lavish floral decorations. At the head of the table is the leader, who now wears clothes so regal and thick that they heavily weigh upon his broad shoulders. Beside him are two judges: the man from earlier, and another I don’t recognize. Ten of the Capital’s own stand by both sides of the room whilst five of the Capital’s kitchen crew stand in a line near the back and wait for dinner to commence. The daughter is nowhere to be seen.

“Sit down,” the leader announces. The finalists find seats immediately. I’m at a disadvantage since I was not quick to the chairs and wound up sitting farthest from the leader. “Do we have music?” He asks the Capital worker who led us here. He bows, and then he returns with a violinist in tow. The musician positions himself beside me. After testing his bow on the strings, he plays.

“What are your names?” The leader asks over the sweet melody of the violin.

The finalists take turns introducing themselves. When it is my turn, I raise my voice and say, “Zitao.”

I sense a spark of interest in his voice as he leans forward and asks, “Zitao? What a unique name.”

“People call me Tao.”

“Tao.” He smiles. He reaches for a plate of food and transfers it to his own plate. From this action, he signals the finalists that we can eat. The proper silence is disturbed by the sounds of forks clattering against plates. Finalists who have grown familiar with each other over the past few hours start conversations while others focus on displaying the most proper etiquette possible. As words begin to fill up the room, I stare at the options set out before me.

“Do you want something?” The finalist beside me asks.

“No,” I answer. “Well, it isn’t that I don’t want anything. I’d like everything, but I’m forced to choose.”

He laughs. “I know. I haven’t seen food this extravagant at my camp, either. Start small, I say.” He points at a colorful dish. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s good. Try that.”

I reach for the dish and place a small portion on my plate. I don’t want to seem rude, so instead of toying with it, I swallow a huge bite. It tastes sweet and tangy; the flavor is as colorful as the dish looks. It would be delicious if I were used to dishes like this, but since I’m not, it’s a meal I can barely digest.

“Too much?” my companion asks.

“A bit,” I cough.

“Having a humble beginning makes me feel uncultured. It’s all right. I’ll learn it all when I pass.”

The man who interviewed me was correct. I am dining with many over-confident people.

“I do wonder why the daughter isn’t here,” he continues. “She’s the one who is going to get a bodyguard. Shouldn’t it be important for her to be here?”

“Perhaps she doesn’t want one,” I mumble.

“What’s that?”

I shake my head. He shrugs and sinks his fork into a slice of meat. “She’s quite unattractive, compared to girls from my town.”

She isn’t unattractive. She’s rare, in a way many gems are. Sometimes, people are around too many fake gems to see a genuine one.

“So tell me,” the leader speaks after he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What’s your story?” he asks the first finalist. The man excitedly talks about his life and how his father was one of the trainers in the camp. Ever since he was young, he received intensive lessons on fighting. Another finalist talks of how his parents abandoned him when he was young, and that he found a family of brothers within the camp.

When the man beside me reaches his turn, he hurriedly swallows the food he had been eating.

“I’m sorry to disturb you while you eat,” the leader says. The finalist’s eyes flash in fear. He knows he’s done something wrong to urge an apology from the Capital leader.

“Not at all sir, It’s my fault, I ate so quickly,” he replies. “The food is delicious. But my story doesn’t quite match up to the majesty of this meal you’ve graciously offered us, sir.”

He exerted so much effort to seem like a Capital citizen that his speech rose to an overly ambitious level. The man clears his throat and says, “I’m privileged, sir. My family belongs to one of the wealthiest families in my town – although in truth, even the wealthiest is as poor as the poorest here – but there, I was able to receive education at home besides training by day. I served underneath the greatest trainers. I’m happy you’ve chosen me as a finalist, and I want to honor you by guarding your daughter.”

“Is that so,” the leader murmurs disinterestedly. His eyes shift to me. “And you?”

“I’m – “

“ – from Haw, is that right?” He finishes. “Quite a few people have talked about you. It’s a long journey from there to here.”

I smile. The movement feels uncomfortable. “It was.”

A few finalists gawk at me. I’m sure they are criticizing me for not having used that opportunity to flatter the leader. If they were me, they would have said something like “The journey, I knew, would be nothing once I arrived at the Capital”, but speaking that way is neither my strategy nor my talent. I don’t want to waste words.

“And you? What would you like to share with us?”

“My story isn’t interesting. My father died in an accident, my mother died when she bore me. I have no siblings and scarcely any friends. I only have my knives and my rod.”

“No friends at all?” He questions. “Not even a lover?”

I shake my head. The man beside me speaks up, “We have very many beautiful women in my city, sir.”

“My daughter must not reach your standards, then,” the leader comments wryly.

“Not at all. Rather, she exceeds them. She’s very beautiful,” he gushes.

“What about you, Tao?” The leader returns to me. “What do you think of my daughter?”

All eyes are on me. Having been given a trick question, I carefully respond, “I want to protect her from everything, including myself.”

“You aren’t sociable, are you?”

“No.”

“A bit unrefined in speech, as well.”

“Yes,” I say and remember to add, “sir”.

His eyes linger on me for longer than needed, and then he says, “Well, make sure you eat, everyone. There’s a lot of food still.”

I can feel his eyes on me as I push my plate away. I finish my drink, as well, and then I sit back and stare at the corner of the table. When twenty minutes pass and the finalists cease to eat, the leader says, “I’m thankful to all of you for participating in this competition. Many of you caught my eye. I’ll discuss the matter with my men. I won’t see you after this dinner, so I’ll thank you now.” He stands up and bows. “I hope the best for you all.” He leaves the room, and the judges follow him. As soon as the door behind him closes, the finalists burst into a hubbub of discussion.

“What do you think? Who made it?”

“I think a few of us will be chosen to work for the Capital. But as for who the bodyguard is … I can’t tell.”

As they review the possibilities, the man beside me says, “You must be embarrassed about forgetting to talk well.”

“Not at all,” I say.

“You aren’t?” He blinks several times. “Well, it looks like your chances aren’t good. It’s too bad. I heard you’re a great fighter. You’re the one who won the battle the fastest, aren’t you?”

A judge returns to the room and silences the group. With a stiff expression he proclaims, “We’ve chosen a bodyguard and two other men to work for us. Those three men, please come to me when I say your names. The rest, please follow a Capital worker to your room. You may go home before tonight ends. Ang.” The orphaned finalist stands up. “Jin.” Another man stands up. While turning his back, the judge says, “And Tao.”

“You?” The man beside me remarks in surprise when I stand up. “But – “

I’ve already walked away and can no longer here his complaints.

The judge takes us to the hallway where he carelessly says, “Jin, Ang, you’ve been selected to join the Capital’s own. Tao, follow me.” He walks away. The other judge leads the other two while I hurry to keep up with the man in front of me.

“I’m going to give you a quick run down, so pay attention. I hate repeating myself.” He stops in front of a door. It takes me a while to realize that he wants me to open it. “First of all, etiquette,” he says as we walk through a different hallway. “Before Nari wakes up in the morning, we’ll teach you about Capital customs.”

“Nari?”

He sighs. “The daughter. Do you not even know her name?” He tsks at this. “You know it now, so it doesn’t matter. To keep your skills sharp, we’ll have you train alongside the Capital’s own in the afternoon. Nari will be eating lunch at that time.” We reach a door that is even more decorated than my own. “This is hers. Your room is adjoined to hers. It doesn’t have a door, so you’ll have to go through her room before leaving. We’ll keep guards here for a week to make sure you don’t try anything wicked.” He pats my back. “Good luck.”

I watch him walk away. Shortly after he is gone, two of the Capital’s own approach the door and position themselves on either side of it. I start to knock on the door, but then it opens from the inside.

“Get inside,” Nari grabs my sleeve and pulls me in whilst shutting the door. Her short hair is tied back, and her arms are crossed. “Let’s get this straight. I don’t need protecting. So if you think you have to be around me at all times, you don’t. Okay?” She points to a door on her left. “That’s your room. Turn off the lights on your way out.” She abases me with a tired wave of her hand and lies down on her bed. Left with only one choice, I uneasily cross her room to reach mine and turn off the lights.