The night grows deeper, the silence thick like a shroud over the school. A tall boy with a sly grin etched across his face stands at the headmaster's door, his knuckles resting lightly against it, ready to knock.
"Sir, may I come in?" he asks, his voice carrying a mixture of audacity and false politeness.
The headmaster, seated behind his large desk by the window, looks up from the book in his hands. His glasses catch the dim light as his sharp gaze falls on the boy standing at the door.
After a moment of silence, he gestures calmly, his voice steady. "Yes, come in."
The boy steps forward, his confident strides betraying no hesitation, and stands before the headmaster's imposing desk. His eyes shine with determination as he speaks.
"Headmaster, I must say, I'm deeply inspired by your reputation. Even before joining this school, I admired you and hoped to meet you. Now that I'm here, I feel like I've finally found my purpose."
The headmaster raises an eyebrow, still engrossed in the book, though his interest seems minimal. The boy continues, undeterred.
"I understand the school has announced a competition, and we have a week to prepare. I want to ask for your guidance during this time. I want you to train me, make me capable of defeating Kangha."
At the mention of Kangha, the headmaster's attention sharpens. He looks up, his curiosity now fully piqued. His steely eyes study the seventeen-year-old boy standing before him.
"Kangha?" the headmaster repeats, leaning back slightly in his chair. His lips curl into a faint, enigmatic smile.
"Why do you want to defeat Kangha?" he asks, his tone probing.
The boy hesitates for a moment but then meets the headmaster's gaze with unwavering resolve. "Because, sir, I want to prove that Kangha isn't the only one worthy of admiration. Others, like me, are just as capable of standing against him."
The headmaster sets his book down on the desk, his fingers lightly tapping its cover as he considers the boy's words. The determination in the boy's voice and the fire in his eyes intrigue him.
He leans forward, the weight of his presence pressing against the boy's confidence. "Do you truly believe you can match Kangha?"
The boy nods firmly. "Yes, sir. With your guidance, I know I can."
The headmaster's smile deepens, but it holds a hint of mystery. His mind churns with thoughts, weighing the boy's ambition against the challenge ahead.
"Very well," the headmaster finally says, his voice steady but with an edge of challenge. "Let us see if you're as capable as you claim. Your training begins tomorrow."
The boy's face lights up with gratitude and determination. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."
As the boy leaves the room, the headmaster leans back in his chair, gazing out of the window at the moonlit campus. A storm brews on the horizon, both in the skies and within the walls of the school. The headmaster knows this competition will be unlike any other, for the fire of ambition has been lit—and Kangha stands at its center.
The headmaster leans back in his chair, his gaze drifting out the window as a slow, sinister smile spreads across his face. His fingers tap rhythmically against the desk, a reflection of the dark thoughts swirling in his mind.
"Kangha," he murmurs under his breath, his tone low and almost taunting. "This battle will cost you dearly—far more than you can imagine. You won't even realize how or when, but you will lose. And when you do, it will be at the hands of your own people, the ones you trust."
His smile deepens, his eyes glinting with a malevolent gleam. "I will turn them against you, one by one. And when I succeed in creating my gateway to a new world through this school, every soul here will bow before me. They will all be my slaves, powerless to resist."
He pauses, savoring the thought, his voice barely above a whisper now. "You will stand helpless as I strip you of everything you hold dear. Your power, your allies, your pride—all of it will be mine. And very soon, Kangha... very soon, you will have nothing left but the ashes of your defeat."
The room falls silent except for the faint rustle of the wind outside, but the air within feels heavier. The headmaster's chilling resolve casts a shadow over the night, foretelling a storm that will not only test Kangha but shake the very foundations of the school.
—-----------------
—----------
Kangha stands in the garden, lost in thought. His mind drifts back to the conversation from the previous night, replaying Wo-jin's words.
"Kangha, you won't go to the party?" Wo-jin had asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"No, I'm not," Kangha had replied, his tone distant as he subtly hid the book in his hand.
Wo-jin had raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You know Miss Choi's daughter is coming?"
Startled, Kangha had looked up. "Do they have a daughter?" he asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yes," Wo-jin confirmed, his curiosity evident. "Miss Choi told me she's meeting her after ten years. They'll be waiting for you. You should go."
After a brief pause, Kangha had nodded, seemingly reluctant. "Okay, I'll go. By the way, I want to meet Miss Choi for a reason," he added, clutching the book tightly in his hand.
Now, Kangha stands still, the memory fresh in his mind. His fingers twitch slightly, and he jolts as if shaking off an unsettling thought.
"If Miss Choi is meeting her daughter after ten years," Kangha mutters to himself, his mind racing, "then they wouldn't have given her any books... nor could she have been taught anything by them. That means... that girl is lying."
His realization sends a chill through him. He turns to Wo-jin, his voice laced with both urgency and disbelief. "Wo-jin, if Miss Choi hasn't seen her daughter in a decade, how could they have taught her or given her a book? Something doesn't add up."
Wo-jin tilts his head, his brow furrowing. "That... that's a good point. Are you saying she's lying?"
Kangha nods slowly, his sharp mind piecing together the inconsistencies. "That's a new question," he thinks to himself, his curiosity now burning. "Who is this girl really, and what is she hiding?"
The revelation weighs heavily on him, and he feels the beginnings of a mystery unraveling—a mystery that may demand far more from him than he expects.
Kangha takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he begins explaining to Wo-jin. "Do you know, Wo-jin, that girl knows an unusual amount about me? Every word she said left me more surprised. It's as if she came here armed with detailed knowledge about my life."
Wo-jin listens carefully before replying, his tone thoughtful. "Kangha, information about us usually resides with one of two kinds of people: either a trusted friend or a deeply embedded enemy."
Kangha pauses, his eyes fixed on Wo-jin. The weight of his words strikes a chord. "You're right. Tomorrow, I'll speak with Miss Choi. I'll find out where that girl came from and why she's here now. We have too many enemies, and we need to keep track of all of them. Who they are, what they're doing, and how much they know about us."
Wo-jin nods, his expression serious, but there's a subtle tension in his voice as he responds. "Kangha, I don't think we have enemies in the traditional sense. We're caught in a war we can't escape without fighting. But at the same time, we can't attack blindly, because we don't even know if the enemy is truly an enemy—or if they're pretending to be our allies."
"Wo-jin's words hang in the air, heavy with implication. His thoughts linger on the headmaster, unaware of the larger scheme unfolding. He has no idea that Felix, an ancient adversary, has taken control of Jeong-won's body, imprisoning Jeong-won's soul—or perhaps Felix has completely disguised himself as Jeong-won".
Kangha listens intently, his mind racing to make sense of it all. After a moment, he lifts his gaze to the sky, his voice resolute despite the uncertainty. "We have to stay strong, Wo-jin. If we lose our courage, we'll lose everything—our friends, our family, even ourselves."
The faint light of the moon highlights their faces, etched with weariness and doubt. Both of them feel the weight of their situation, their hearts heavy with thoughts of their grandfather, the person they cherish the most.
Wo-jin exhales, his voice soft yet determined. "We'll figure this out, Kangha. We have to."
Kangha nods, though the sense of helplessness lingers between them. They both know the stakes are higher than ever—and the answers they seek may lead to truths they aren't ready to face.
"I'm heading to my room. You should come too," Wo-jin says, placing a reassuring hand on Kangha's shoulder, his tone filled with sympathy.
Kangha nods slightly but lets out a sigh. "Yes, I will... but it's already late. I can't even talk to Miss Choi right now," he replies, his voice calm yet carrying a hint of frustration.
Wo-jin studies him for a moment, noticing the weariness in Kangha's eyes. Without another word, he gently pats Kangha's shoulder again, as if silently telling him to rest for now. Both of them walk quietly, their minds burdened with thoughts of the mysteries and dangers that await.