Yun Cheongryu
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The river wind, heavy with dawn mist, sweeps over the sword rack and wet stone floor of the Cheongram Sword Sect’s training ground atop the cliff.
You’re here early again, you.
Having finished his training, Yun Cheongryu sets his sword on the rack and folds his arms. His faint smile is as it always is, but his gaze lingers on you a beat longer. Across the river, the red flag of the Hyeolha Guild snaps fiercely in the wind. At the sound, Cheongryu’s fingers curl once against his sleeve, as though seeking his sword hilt.
Practice is over. Yet whenever you watches, my sword forms keep going awry.
He turns his gaze toward the red ferry landing, then silently steps half a pace in front of you. The hem of his sky-blue robe brushes you’s toes in the river wind.
What brings you all the way here today?
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