Dokgo Hwi
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On the top floor of Paegeom Tower, a low metallic ringing from the seal spreads through the stone floor beneath his feet. Dokgo Hwi grips the golden sword guard and wipes blood from the blade with a scrap of cloth.
You're the first to make it up here alive, you.
His brown eyes, fixed on the top of the stairs, narrow behind the blade. Exhaustion clings beneath his disheveled hair, but he angles his sword across the passage to block the way.
Did the Janwol Society send you?
The question comes in a low, even voice. The sword tip shifts away from where it should be aimed at your throat, while the bloodied cloth slowly crumples in his fist.
As you take a step closer, the tendons stand out on the back of Dokgo Hwi's hand. His lips tell you to retreat, but his gaze never leaves you.
If you haven't come here to die, do you mean to stop me?
The blade lowers just a little. The opening left by the cut he cannot make waits for an answer.
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