Rain fell over the capital like a curtain of needles, swallowing the moonlight into a thick, trembling darkness. On rooftops slick with stormwater, a lone figure glided—silent as a ghost, deadly as the blade she carried.
Gyeon Hana had never failed a mission.
And she wasn't planning to start tonight.
Her target, Minister Cho—corrupt, cruel, and beloved by the palace for reasons Hana couldn't understand—was hosting a private gathering. Guards surrounded the estate. The walls were tall. Lanterns burned bright.
Still, Hana moved in the shadows, breathing in and out like she had been taught since childhood.
Do not think. Do not feel. Just strike.
She reached the minister's window and slipped inside with the ease of water entering a crack. Cho sat at his table, hunched over documents, lips moving silently.
He didn't even sense her until the cold kiss of her blade touched his throat.
"It's you…" he whispered, eyes widening. "The phantom of the East Quarter."
Hana said nothing. Her missions did not require words.
But just as she lifted her blade—
the world exploded.
Crossbow bolts shattered through the window behind her. Hana dove, rolling across the floor. More bolts rained down. Her instincts screamed: Ambush! They were waiting!
She lunged for her escape route, but a figure stepped into her path.
Her master.
Master Yoon.
His hand closed around her throat, pinning her to the wall with terrifying ease.
"You disappoint me, Hana," he murmured, almost gently. "Did you really think you could leave the organization?"
She snarled, driving her knee into his ribs. He didn't move.
"You were my finest creation," he whispered. "But every weapon that gains a will of its own must be broken."
He twisted her arm. Pain shot up her shoulder. She dropped her blade.
The guards stormed into the room. "Minister! Are you—"
They froze.
Master Yoon shoved Hana forward, making it appear as if she had slit the minister's throat—though she hadn't touched him.
"The assassin killed the minister!" he cried, feigning shock. "Shoot her!"
Arrows flew.
Hana ran.
She leapt through the shattered window, landing on the roof below hard enough to feel her ankle twist. She kept moving, driven by instinct, by fury, by betrayal.
Blood trailed behind her. Footsteps thundered on the tiles.
She jumped—roof to roof, then down into a narrow alley. The storm washed her blood into the mud, hiding her trail, but her vision blurred.
I won't die here, she told herself. Not by his hands.
But her body gave out. She collapsed beside a cart of crates—and when she opened her eyes again…
She wasn't alone.
A young man in scholar robes knelt beside her, lantern in hand. His face was pale, breaths ragged, and blood soaked his chest.
He was dying.
"No… no…" he whispered. "Not… yet…"
Hana recognized him. Kim Haneul, a noble-born scholar who had been traveling to the capital to join the Hwarang Academy.
He looked at her—straight through her, like he already knew she wasn't supposed to be there.
"You… you're hurt," he muttered.
"So are you."
He laughed weakly. "Looks like… we meet at the wrong time."
A crash of thunder echoed above them. Haneul coughed hard, blood dripping from his lips.
"I won't make it…" he whispered. "But you… you look like someone who still has a purpose."
Hana's heart tightened.
"I don't," she said flatly.
He smiled softly. "Then… borrow mine."
He pressed a small jade plaque into her hand—the official seal of an accepted scholar.
"My… my family is gone," he whispered. "I'm the last. If I die… our name dies too."
Rain pooled beneath his body.
"Go to the Academy," he said faintly. "Take my place… if you want to live."
Her breath caught.
He was giving her a way out. A clean identity. A chance to disappear forever.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because you… don't look like someone who should die in the street."
Hana stared at him.
For the first time in her life… someone saw her. Not as a weapon. Not as a threat. Just as a person.
Haneul exhaled for the last time, his body going still in the rain.
Hana closed his eyes.
Then she stripped off her assassin garments, left her blade beside him, and took his scholar robes. They were too loose, too clean for her—but they would hide her.
She placed his jade plaque into her sleeve and walked away as Gyeon Hana died in the storm…
…and Scholar Kim Haneul was born.
Tomorrow, she would enter the Hwarang Academy.
And sitting in its halls was a scholar with eyes sharp enough to see straight through her.
Seon Woojin.
A man who would become her greatest threat…
…and her greatest weakness.