Art by Rikka
Jihye paced the dimly lit alley, her mind a whirlwind of doubt and fear. The offer had been clear: Pledge her loyalty to the crime kingpin, and in return, she would have power, protection, and a place in the hierarchy of the underworld. It was a tempting offer, but the thought of being beholden to anyone made her stomach churn. Freedom had always been her highest priority, and she wasn’t about to relinquish it so easily. But the reality was harsh—if she refused, death was almost certain.
Seeking clarity, she arranged a clandestine meeting with Eric and Suna. They were the only ones she trusted, the only ones who had ever stood by her side in the treacherous streets of the city. The three of them sat in the shadowy backroom of a nondescript tea house, their voices hushed over steaming cups of bitter brew. Jihye laid out the situation before them, the weight of the decision evident in her voice.
The reaction was immediate. Fear flickered in their eyes, their fingers twitching against the ceramic cups. It was not the fear of losing her, but fear for themselves. Jihye could see it clearly—they were already considering their own safety, already weighing their options. The realisation was a sharp dagger to her heart. She had miscalculated. By confiding in them, she had inadvertently put them in danger. Regret settled deep in her chest.
The moment she stepped out of the tea house, she knew she couldn’t linger. Eric and Suna would do whatever they had to in order to protect themselves, even if it meant betraying her. It wasn’t malice—it was survival. Jihye understood that all too well.
She made her way back to her lodgings, a small rented room in a run-down inn near the marketplace. With practiced efficiency, she packed her belongings, taking only what she needed. A set of clothes, a pouch of coins, a few small weapons, and a tattered map of the city’s underground passages. Pausing before leaving, she added a velvet bag of personal effects. She tightened the straps of her bag and took one last glance around the room. There was nothing left for her here.
Her options had dwindled to two: swear fealty to the crime lord or die.
She chose neither.
With the city under constant surveillance by the kingpin’s men, the streets were no longer safe. Instead, she slipped into the labyrinthine sewers beneath the city, the stench of damp and decay curling around her as she moved swiftly through the tunnels. She knew them well, had spent years memorising their paths, marking out escape routes in case she ever needed them. That need had finally come.
Her first destination was a tavern at the city’s edge, a rickety establishment known as the Hollow Oak. The owner owed her favors—many of them. She had spent years ensuring the man’s safety from gang raids and violent debt collectors, and now it was time to collect. When she entered through the back door, the tavern keeper, a stout man named Greaves, glanced up with wary recognition.
“Jihye,” he murmured, setting down a tankard. “You bring trouble.”
“I bring myself,” she corrected. “And I need a room. Just for the night.”
Greaves exhaled heavily through his nose but nodded. “If anyone comes asking?”
“I was never here.”
With that, she climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor and entered the small room Greaves had given her. It was a simple space—a narrow bed, a rickety wooden chair, and a single window with weather-worn shutters. Before allowing herself to rest, she thoroughly checked the room, scanning for hidden threats. Only once she was satisfied did she bolt the door and sit against the wall, her body tense with unease. Sleep was a risk, but exhaustion gnawed at her. Just a few hours. Just enough to regain her strength.
Her instincts jolted her awake.
A sound. Subtle. A slow, deliberate creak.
Someone was in the room.
Jihye did not panic. Instead, she waited, feigning sleep, listening to the near-silent footsteps approaching her bed. The assassin was careful but not careful enough. When the presence loomed close, she struck.
In a blink, her form shifted. Gone was the lithe frame of the fugitive; in its place coiled a dragon, compact enough to fit the room but no less fearsome. Golden talons gleamed in the dim light, and her amber eyes burned like molten gold as she turned her gaze upon her would-be killer.
The man froze, his blade trembling in his grasp. Fear was etched deep into his face as he struggled to find words, but Jihye did not wait. She exhaled, a burst of flame engulfing him in a fiery embrace. His scream barely had time to escape before he was reduced to ash, the dagger he held melted into an unrecognisable hunk of metal on the floor.
The scent of charred flesh filled the room, but Jihye barely noticed. Instead, she focused, willing herself back to human form. The transformation was not without cost. As her body shrank, pain lanced through her limbs, the familiar agony of shifting tearing at her muscles. She gritted her teeth, enduring the stabbing sensation that followed her back into human skin.
Breathing heavily, she scanned the room again, alert for any further threats. None came. But she knew she could not stay. The assassin was proof that her presence had already been discovered. The crime lord’s reach was extensive, and it would only be a matter of time before more came looking for her.
She exhaled sharply and rubbed at the ache in her arms. She had no choice but to move on. Phase two of her escape was about to begin.
As the first light of dawn crept through the window, Jihye stood, shouldered her bag, and prepared herself. She had evaded death once tonight. But the hunt was far from over.