Although it was a structured institution, it had already become obvious to me that people here lived at their own pace. No lights-out, no mandatory rest periods.
If someone wanted to train, they could do so even in the middle of the night.
So if a general felt like beating an inexperienced recruit to a pulp just because her friend had a big mouth, he could do so without restrictions.
The man stopped in a clearing, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine, his cold blue eyes gleaming with challenge.
"So? Feel like kicking my ass?" he asked again, his voice icy calm as he stood perfectly straight, his arms clasped behind his back, as if waiting for me to make the first move.
I had no choice. I had to fight—not just him, but my own fears as well.
Summoning all my courage, I took an attacking step toward him, but the moment my boot touched the ground, I found myself flat on my back.
His movement was so fast that I didn't even register it.
His elbow slammed into my chest like a nail being driven into wood, pinning me down with an inexplicable force. He stared into my eyes as I struggled to escape his grip, but it felt impossible.
It was as if his strength was crushing me, his elbow pressing through my heart, splitting it in two.
My breathing turned ragged, but I couldn't give up so easily.
Sweating, I thrashed, screaming inwardly, gathering all my strength to push him off me.
I couldn't afford to be this weak.
I couldn't show that I had barely arrived and was already failing.
At this rate, I wouldn't even be fit to carry weapons.
I clenched my teeth and gripped the blades of grass with all my strength, as if they could help me find a hold in this situation. I inhaled the scent of daffodils deeply, trying to think as clearly as possible. Although my energy sometimes wanes, one thing never changes in me: my positivity. I have always been able to find the path most favorable to me, even in the most hopeless situations.
I tried to gather all my courage and make an attacking move toward him. But the moment the sole of my boot touched the ground, I lost my balance in an instant. The next second, I was already on the ground, pressing my arm against my chest as his elbow pinned me down, as if an enormous weight was crushing me.
He looked into my eyes, and in his gaze, I saw neither anger nor mercy—just pure dominance. I tried to break free from his grip, but the strength with which he held me felt as though it was breaking through my bones, reaching my heart, as if he wanted to suffocate me—or perhaps even more…
I cannot remain this weak. I cannot show that I have barely arrived here and I am already useless. My hands clenched the earth, my fingers grasping the cold blades of grass as I took a deep breath. The scent of daffodils filled my nose, and this small sensation gave me a strange kind of strength.
I cannot give up.
My mind took control over my body, as if I were moving a puppet. With a determined, swift motion, I jerked my knee up, hitting directly under his jaw. It wasn't a strong blow, but it was enough to surprise him for a brief moment, and that moment was all I needed. I slipped out of his grasp, and before I was completely free, I struck his back with a quick, forceful move, then his groin.
The crowd, which had been watching from the windows with amused chuckles, suddenly fell silent. As if everyone was waiting to see what would happen next.
The man slowly lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes were no longer just cold—there was something else lurking in them. Something that warned me in advance of what was about to happen in the next few seconds.
Before I could react, he swept my legs out from under me with such force that, for a moment, I felt as though I had not only lost my footing but reality itself. I didn't feel the weight of my fall. I didn't feel the ground. Only the deep, icy swiftness with which he had undone me in a single move.
When I finally hit the ground, my ankle twisted, and a sharp pain shot through it immediately. It went numb almost instantly, but I could tell something was wrong.
The blonde man loomed over me, blocking the moonlight, with a faint, mocking smirk at the corner of his mouth.
"Unfair attacks are acceptable in a robbery or a life-or-death fight," he said quietly but firmly. "In a fair fight, however, they are a sign of weakness and an unacceptable action."
He slowly shook his head and looked down at me as if I were nothing more than a pitiful mess at his feet.
"I wouldn't even call what you did a fight. And even then, you chose the most miserable way to go about it," he continued coldly. "A warrior never runs."
With that, he kicked my leg aside, making me wince in pain, but he didn't even glance at me again. He simply turned and walked toward the exit, accompanied by several men dressed in black.
And I was left there, lying on the ground, shame and anger burning in my chest.
I didn't know what to feel more—the pain in my ankle, or the deep, gut-wrenching feeling of being treated as nothing.
A hand reached down toward me.
It was the black-haired girl who had laughed at me earlier.
"Are you okay?" she asked, and though her voice wasn't exactly kind, there was no mockery in it this time.
Before I could answer, the others gathered around me, and before I could protest, they had already helped me up from the ground.
"Well, at least you tried," someone remarked as the group practically carried me to the door.
By the time I somehow limped my way to my room, my body felt heavier than ever. I gripped the frame of my bed for support and made my way to the window, finally settling on the cushioned ledge.
I let out a deep sigh.
That sigh carried everything.
My pain.
My suffering.
My joy of life.
Every single moment of the past hours.
A whole life's story in a single breath.