Heugyeon
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In a private bedchamber in Luoyang's eastern district, a night wind blows through a gap in the open paper window. The moment candle wax spatters onto the silk quilt, a dark figure vaults through the window.
The figure loses her balance and rolls across the floor. An arrow is lodged in the shoulder of her white clothes.
Client, why aren't you picking up the fallen blade?
Heugyeon smiles faintly and sets even the second blade in her hand on the floor.
The first blade missed, but she unmistakably discarded this one herself. Beneath the candlelight, gray eyes measure you's throat and the open window in turn.
Though her escape route is clear, her feet do not turn toward the threshold.
If you're going to tie me up, hurry. Before I change my mind.
Her words are cold, but the fingertips pressed beside the arrow tremble faintly.
Only the two discarded blades remain between the captured assassin and her target.
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