Was she…already drunk?!
How was that even possible?!
Just how strong was this wine?!?!?!
Or maybe, the better question was — was it possible her tolerance had gotten even weaker? It had always taken at least five to ten minutes for any kind of mouthful of alcohol to kick in…Had all this running around deteriorated her ability to even drink the tiny amount she'd once been able to?!
Already, her senses were starting to go a little funny.
The sounds all around the courtyard were bouncing around strangely in her head: the cheering of the crowd, the loud voice of the announcer hollering something useless, the pained hisses of the men up and down the line…it was like erratic music, making not much sense. She could feel her face heating up, too. When she put a hand to her cheek, it felt hot, like a stove.
"You — are not drunk, Han Abrial Chae-young!" she scolded herself. "You…are sober! You can stand straight. Stand straight, Abrial!" She stood straight and rigid, placing her hands on her hips as though to steady herself.
Male competitors near her began to look over, snickering and pointing.
"Is the woman drunk already?" they asked one another, entertained. "As expected, as expected…"
Thankfully for them, Abrial was yelling too loudly to hear them. If she had, in this tipsy-drunken state, she might have rushed over to bash their heads in.
Another ten minutes, and the extremely potent rice wine had succeeded in making several of the men stumble about as well, their cheeks bright red like cherries.
"I miss my wife!" one of them moaned, falling to his knees. "Even though she cheated on me with that ugly bastard! Wifey~!"
"I wish I had a wife," moped another. "Am I too ugly? I'm gonna be single forever! Wah~!"
"I don't really want a wife!" snickered Abrial. She was rocking back and forth, her arms out by her sides in a feeble attempt to steady herself. "I'm not getting married!"
"You're a woman," the teenager to her right reminded her, swaying slightly. His face was glowing pink with tipsiness. "You wouldn't have a wife — you would have a husband."
"A husband…Why would I get a husband? That's like imprisoning yourself to be a servant for the rest of your life! Men are disgusting…I don't want to get married…" Abrial's eyes began to fill with tears. Suddenly, she wailed. Many people in the crowd gawked at her. A mother covered her son's eyes. "Mother and Father were going to send me away to get married! How could they do that? They know marriage is one of the things I hate most…WAH~!!!"
After howling for a while, she whirled around and snatched that teenage boy on her right by the collar. Her grip was tight as a vise.
"You, you know, I wish Finley was here. If she was here, everything would be okay! We should've just run away together, or I should've stayed…Why did she have to go and separate us like that…" Her wailing turned to blubbering. "I haven't been separated from her like this since we met…ten years ago…It's been ten years…I used to see her every day, all day…"
"There, there…" comforted the teenager, patting her drunkenly on the back. "Don't cry. My mother says there's always a side of the hill that has sunlight on it."
Abrial either didn't hear him or ignored him, sniveling snot into his sleeve.
By now, everyone in the line of competitors was at least tipsy. Unfortunately, Abrial was the most drunk of them all. And it wasn't hard to tell, by her red face, the tears and snot all over her nose and cheeks, and the way she was nearly shaking the wits out of that teenage boy, who seemed slightly confused as to where he was and why someone was shaking him so violently.
"I knew she would be a lightweight," slurred that middle-aged man to Abrial's left, pointing a thick finger at her. "So arrogant, and yet she's one of the worst-off…"
When at last the candle had burnt down to the half-hour mark, the announcer brought the paper cone to his lips.
"All those competing! Half an hour has elapsed. We will now commence the ax-throwing section of the contest. Please line up at the side of the courtyard. Each of you will proceed one at a time!"
Contest overseers herded the drunk and tipsy men along with Abrial to the side of the courtyard, emptying the large stone-paved space they had been occupying. It was quite entertaining to be watching in the crowd as these drunk competitors flailed and stumbled around like lost ducklings. As they were herded away, other overseers scurried out with three large red-painted targets, placing them in intervals along the ground.
"The first man, please step up to the line! Yes, right there — please hand him an ax."
The annoying middle-aged man who'd been standing to Abrial's left took the small hand ax from an overseer. He twirled his wrist skillfully few times — clearly, he was only slightly tipsy at most. Then, he swiftly pulled the ax back over his head. With a whoosh, he flung it forward violently with the force of a bear. It flew at the target, spinning dizzily —
And sank right into the wooden center.
The crowd erupted into impressed gasps and cheers.
"What a strong man!"
"Strong enough to hold such potent liquor, and still ace a target!"
"AH, he's so hot! Even though he's kind of old!!! But like, not old enough for it to be weird for me to say he's hot, right?"
The second target, to everyone's amazement, he aced as well. Only the last one he didn't hit quite as accurately. Still, he sank his third ax near the center of the target. Two aces and one near-ace — an astounding feat for any tipsy man.
As he returned to the side of the courtyard, he shot Abrial a smug look.
Abrial didn't even notice. She was too busy alternating between weeping and cackling at some random thing crossing her mind.
And so all the men took their turns, from teenagers to the elderly, stepping up to fling three axes as best as they could. Many axes went straight up in the air or right down into the ground; other axes miraculously made their mark on the targets. Nobody, however, came nearly as close to the target centers as that first annoying middle-aged man, whose grin grew wider and smugger with each throw of an ax.
"I don't know why," Abrial suddenly said loudly, pointing obviously at him, "But that guy's stupid grin annoys me a lot! I want to wipe it off his face! Squeak, squeak! Like wiping a window! Squeak!"
The man's face flushed red with fury — redder than it already was. "You little — !"
"Miss, please take the ax. It's your turn."