The hut was simple mud walls, stones at the base, sticks pressed together and covered with snow to hold against the wind. Inside, the fire burned low, smoke curling through a small hole in the roof.
Han Jiyul sat cross legged, his sword leaning against the wall beside him. His hair was damp from melted snow, and blood still stained his old torn clothes, though he did not care.
On the floor, the small hare curled itself against the warmth of the fire.
Jiyul opened one eye, staring at it.
"You again."
The hare's ears twitched.
He leaned his head back against the wall.
"…Strange. Wolves, boars, even men fear me. But you… you come closer."
He stretched out his hand and tapped the hare's head with two fingers. Not gentle, not cruel, just a cold pat.
"If you're not careful, you'll end up in my stomach one day."
The hare froze, then continued to sit.
Jiyul let out a faint laugh, low and sharp.
"Braver than half the humans I've seen."
The days passed. Snow grew heavier, burying parts of the mountain. Jiyul trained outside in the storm, bare handed, striking boulders until cracks spread like spiderwebs. When his knuckles bled, he washed them in the snow and continued.
At night, back in the hut, the hare remained. Jiyul threw it scraps of roots and meat bones.
One night, while chewing wolf meat, Jiyul spoke aloud without looking at it.
"You sit there as if you own the place."
The hare blinked.
"Maybe you do. I built a hut to hide my power, and somehow, I gained a roommate."
The fire popped. Jiyul's eyes narrowed.
"Don't mistake me for a kind man. I don't keep pets. I don't keep friends. I only keep enemies… and corpses."
The hare scratched its ear.
Jiyul smirked coldly.
"…Still alive after hearing that. Bold creature."
He tapped his chest with one finger.
"Remember this. I'm not alive because of mercy. I'm alive because I refuse to die. That's the difference between me and everyone else."
Snowstorm after snowstorm came. Jiyul's hut held strong. He repaired it often with stone and ice, each strike of his hand breaking pieces of frozen rock with ease.
One morning, Jiyul awoke to find the hare sitting on his chest. Its small body rose and fell with his breath.
He stared at it silently.
"Do you not fear monsters?"
The hare blinked, unmoving.
Jiyul slowly raised his hand and patted its back.
"…Then die fearless when your time comes. That's the best end anyone can ask for."
The hare twitched but stayed where it was.
Jiyul closed his eyes again.
"Annoying thing. You remind me I still have a heart. I don't need that."
But his hand remained there, resting coldly on the creature.
Later, as he stood outside, snow falling around him, Jiyul trained with the air slash. His strikes cut lines through the snowstorm, leaving trails of empty air that whistled like blades.
When he stopped, he whispered to himself:
"If my powers consume me, let them. If they kill me, let them. But they will never own me."
He touched the hilt of his sword, eyes sharp as steel.
"I am not shaped by fate. I am the blade that cuts fate open."
Behind him, the hare hopped in the snow, leaving tiny prints. Jiyul glanced back once, then looked away.
"…Follow me if you want. But don't expect me to carry you."
The hare sneezed.
Jiyul's lips curved into the faintest smile. Cold. Barely there.
"Pathetic little thing. You'll probably outlive everyone else."
And so the mountain remained silent again, holding one man, one sword, and one hare.