Chapter 11:Hayeon

I hissed as I sat up, my head spinning and my vision blurry.

"Easy," a voice muttered, and a hand gently pushed me back down. I groaned, blinking rapidly until the blur began to settle. The figure hovering above me came into focus—it was Shavon.

He looked different. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his usually stoic face carried an uncharacteristic hint of relief. In all the time I'd known him, I'd never seen Shavon shaken. His expression rarely changed, which only made his silence more alarming.

"What happened?" I croaked, my voice raw.

Shavon handed me a glass of water and helped me sit up. I sipped it slowly, my throat grateful for the relief. When I was done, he took the glass, setting it on the nearby table before sitting on the edge of my bed with a heavy sigh.

"I didn't win, did I?" I murmured, my gaze falling to the bandages wrapped around my arms.

"You did good, kid. Better than I've seen anyone do since Azail," he said, his tone softer than usual.

My head snapped up at that, a small smile tugging at my lips. Azail was practically a legend around here. But the pride I felt quickly faded when I noticed the look on Shavon's face. He wasn't happy.

A knock at the door broke the moment. Shavon stood up abruptly. "I told him to wait until you woke up," he muttered, glancing at me. "Get some rest, Hayeon. That's an order."

"Aye, Captain," I replied with a weak nod.

Shavon shook his head but didn't say anything more as he left, quietly shutting the door behind him. I laid back down, my body protesting with every movement, and let my mind drift back to the fight.

We had circled each other, our eyes locked. Then, without warning, Mikhail rushed at me.

Our swords clashed, and the force of his attack drove me to one knee. Gritting my teeth, I shifted my focus to his legs. With a swift kick, I knocked him off balance and scrambled back to my feet.

He recovered quickly, turning to face me, but I managed to slash his shoulder before he could fully regain his footing. Blood spilled from the wound, and for a brief moment, I felt a spark of triumph.

But then he smiled.

"Good," he grunted, his voice laced with approval.

Before I could react, he retaliated. A series of quick, precise strikes left shallow cuts across my arms and legs. Each swing of my sword felt heavier, my muscles screaming in protest.

His grin widened as my frustration boiled over. I screamed and charged at him, only for him to slam me to the ground with brutal efficiency.

The impact knocked the wind out of me. I coughed, trying to stand, but a sharp kick to my stomach sent me sliding back.

My fingers clawed at the ground, desperately reaching for my sword. A shadow loomed over me, and a crushing grip closed around my neck.

I gasped for air, clawing at his arm as I struggled to remember my breathing techniques. But his grip only tightened.

The last thing I saw before darkness overtook me was Shavon's face.

When I woke up, the room was quiet. The door creaked open, and I turned my head to see Revien standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Revien," I called softly.

He blinked, as if startled, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration.

"What?" I frowned, confused.

"When you told me you passed the first test. Why didn't you wait? I could've gone with you, told my father to hold off before making you take the next step," he chided, crossing the room in quick strides.

I winced as pain flared through my body. Revien's hands gently gripped my shoulders, helping me sit up.

"I didn't know," I admitted, my tone defensive. "And you know how Shavon is about punctuality."

Revien sighed, shaking his head. "Fighting my father is reckless, even if you did manage to wound him."

My ears perked up at that, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "You heard about it?"

He helped me ease back onto the bed, shrugging. "Maybe."

"You did," I teased, nudging his arm lightly.

Revien's lips twitched into a small smile, though his eyes remained filled with worry.

"I was really worried, you know," he murmured. "You slept for two days."

"Two days?" I gasped, the weight of his words sinking in. No wonder Shavon and Revien had looked so concerned.

"I'll get better," I whispered, determination tightening my voice. "I won't scare either of you like that ever again."

Revien didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the cuts and bruises scattered across my body. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his lips twisted as if he was in pain.

I shifted, groaning as I moved, and tapped the empty spot on the bed beside me. "Come on," I urged with a small smile.

He hesitated, but I reached out, grabbing his hand and tugging gently.

Finally, he relented, lying down on top of the blanket. He looked awkward at first, unsure of what to do, but soon relaxed as we started talking.

"So," I began, "what did you do while I was out?"

He recounted every detail, from meetings with his father to overseeing training sessions. Then he asked about my fight with Mikhail, and I answered as best as I could.

At some point, I must've drifted off, lulled by the sound of his voice as he told me about his first mission.

When I woke again, the room was dark, but I could feel a warm hand holding mine.

Revien was asleep, his face turned toward me, his grip firm as if afraid I might disappear.

I smiled to myself, thinking of the fairytales I'd once believed in. The prince saving Cinderella from her tragic life.

Revien was my prince.

It had been so long since I'd had anyone to trust, anyone to lean on. Shavon and Revien had given me that. They made this strange, harsh place feel like home.

I wouldn't let them worry about me again. I needed to get stronger. Strong enough to protect them. Strong enough to become the greatest assassin anyone had ever seen.