Lady Sook's gaze shifted.
Cheon Sa followed it.
Ara.
There had never been a defined order to their performance. Cheon Sa and the others had assumed they were meant to wait until all were present - until Eun Ha arrived. But her entrance and abrupt exit made it clear: they shouldn't have waited at all. Her performance had come and gone, a statement in itself. The others should have performed before her instead of just waiting.
Cheon Sa raised a brow. Min Hee looked stunned, eyes flickering between Ara and the door. Ara, as the senior, should have gone next. But she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
Her hands clenched in her lap. Her lips parted as if her breath had caught and wouldn't come unstuck. She hadn't moved. Her body was stiff, her gaze lowered willing the moment to pass her by.
Cheon Sa tilted his head slightly. His voice, calm and quiet, broke the silence.
"Ara."
Her name, spoken so quietly, startled her like a slap in still air.
She blinked and looked up, eyes wide. "Yes?"
"You're next."
The words struck the room with finality.
Ara didn't move. Her breath hitched. Her fingers clutched the folds of her skirt tighter, twisting the fabric into knots. She bit her lower lip, her eyes flickering to the floor, to the walls, anywhere but at him.
The silence around her swelled - awkward, suffocating. The kind that made even breathing feel too loud.
Cheon Sa let the moment sit just long enough to burn before he spoke again, quieter this time, yet every word carried weight.
"Do you know why the House of Stories wins every year?" he asked, almost casually, his hands folded neatly in his lap. The hairpins were beginning to ache against his scalp, digging in with the persistence of needles. He longed for the gathering to end.
Ara hesitated, then slowly shook her head.
He nodded once. "It's because of people like you."
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Me?"
"Yes, you."
His voice didn't rise, but the sting of his words cut clean.
"If I were a judge, I would have disqualified you before you even opened your mouth to sing because of your presence. Or rather, your lack of it. You sit there like a shadow, waiting for someone else to go first. Waiting for the moment to shape itself for you instead of rising to shape it yourself."
Ara's mouth opened in protest, but no words came. Her shoulders curled inward, defensively.
Cheon Sa continued, his tone calm, but deliberate. "Now I see clearly - Eun Ha wasn't meant to go first after arriving late. We waited for her not because it was tradition or structure, but because neither of you had the courage to claim the floor. That's what truly held us back."
He glanced toward Min Hee, whose lips were pressed tightly together, and then back at Ara.
"I just spoke. Why are you still frozen? Why is no one answering me? Why are you still acting like this moment isn't yours to take?"
His voice didn't thunder, but it struck like thunder anyway. Controlled. Measured. Inevitable. It was the first time he had spoken for so long in a feminine voice.
Ara's hands trembled in her lap. She looked up, her face pinched with frustration, her voice breaking as she finally burst out.
"What do you want me to say?!"
She stood so suddenly as her gaze met Cheon Sa.
"I try! I train hard, harder than anyone else. I practice until my throat is raw. I want this... I want the Orchid Song Hall to stand above the rest. I want to be proud of where I come from! Do I not even have the right to be nervous?"
Tears glimmered in her eyes now, anger and humiliation tangled in her voice.
"Do I have to be fearless? Do I have to be perfect just to be seen?"
"Yes," Cheon Sa said without blinking. "You do."
Ara recoiled slightly, like she'd been struck. But he wasn't finished.
"Even if the fear eats at you. Even if your hands shake and your voice wants to break. You pretend. You stand anyway. That's what strength looks like, not the absence of fear, but the refusal to be ruled by it."
His tone remained level, unflinching.
"You're not even on stage yet," he continued, as he leaned closer. "And already, you look defeated. Is this the same girl who approached me boldly? The one whose eyes were sharp and eager? Where is she now?"
Ara didn't answer. Her breathing was ragged, and her fists clenched at her sides.
"Did my little performance for the Madam shake you that badly?" he asked softly. "That your fire's already gone? That the light in your eyes has turned to ash?"
There was no cruelty in his words - only a challenge. The kind that demanded an answer not with words, but with action.
Ara's chin lifted slightly.
She stared at him, her lower lip trembling, but her eyes regaining their focus. Her chest heaved, but she didn't step back.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I will sing."
She turned, shoulders still tense, but each step toward the center of the room steadied her. Not graceful, not confident, yet, but determined.
Cheon Sa said nothing more.
But he watched her closely, and in the stillness between them, something unspoken passed. Not approval, not yet. But acknowledgment.
She had made her choice.
Now it was time to see if she would rise.
At the center of the room - she stood there, unmoving. Breathing. She could have remained seated and simply begun to sing, but Cheon Sa's words had touched something. She needed this to feel real like a stage, like a moment that mattered.
Then, she sang.
Her first note cracked, brittle and weak. It broke in her throat and fell, flat and faltering.
Silence followed.
Lady Sook's eyes narrowed. A twitch at the corner of her lips - judgment, perhaps.
But Cheon Sa didn't look away. He met Ara's eyes and gave her the smallest nod.
That was all.
She tried again.
The second note came - trembling, uncertain, but whole. The third note - stronger. The fourth - steady. Her voice, wavering like a bird finding its wings, began to lift.
It wasn't perfect. A few notes pitched too high, a breath missed here and there. But beneath it all, there was something true. Something raw and beautiful.
Ara's voice was polished, powerful not in volume, but in feeling. It carried the ache of every unspoken longing she'd buried. The yearning for something lost. For something never quite within reach. Her song unfolded like a memory, full of places she could never return to, and loves she could never name.
Her higher notes shimmered like distant stars. Her lower tones melted warm and heavy, threading between fragility and strength, a voice stretched like silk between two unseen hands.
No applause followed. No grand gasps. But something shifted.
Lady Sook's expression softened.
Min Hee looked away.
And Cheon Sa, caught in the stillness she left behind, found his own breath had slowed.
Ara finished.
She returned to her seat without lifting her gaze, her footsteps featherlight.
She did not shrink but she did not glow either.
Cheon Sa watched her a moment longer before looking away, his expression unreadable, contemplative.
The silence held for one breath more.
Then Min Hee rose.
Her chin was high. Her back straight. There was no visible fear, no burning defiance. Only poise, quiet confidence, honed from repetition, not emotion.
Lady Sook stood as well and moved with unexpected grace to a lacquered case. She drew out a haegeum, its black lacquer gleaming faintly under the dim light and took her position without a word.
Only a nod passed between dancer and musician.
Lady Sook began to play.
The haegeum's voice filled the room, soft and eerie like silk tearing in the wind. It wept through the air, ancient and fragile, like a ghost remembering its name.
Min Hee began to move.
Her arms floated like leaves riding the edge of autumn wind. Her hands, her fingers each motion unfurled with precision, practiced and delicate. Her hanbok - a pale blue embroidered with white blossoms swayed with her movements like ripples following her breath.
She moved like water: controlled, elegant, serene.
At first, she was mesmerizing.
But then something slipped.
It was small. A step came too early. A turn lost its rhythm. The transition was meant to flow like calligraphy, but it skipped.a beat too sharp. Her sleeve flicked wrong mid-spin. Her recovery was swift, graceful even, but the illusion had cracked.
Still, she danced on.
Her form remained lovely, her control evident. But her breath came faster now. Her timing wavered. A second misstep barely a flicker disguised with a flourish of the arm.
Lady Sook continued, unfazed. Her face revealed nothing, and the music carried on haunting, mournful, unbroken.
Min Hee finished with a bow, hands clasped, head high. Her chest rose and fell, betraying the effort she tried to hide. In her eyes, a flicker of disappointment.
It had been beautiful.
But not flawless.
No one spoke.
Cheon Sa exhaled quietly, his fingers resting on the zither strings before him. His eyes lingered on what he just witnessed , Eun Ha's storm, Ara's trembling truth, Min Hee's composed falter.
He rose to his feet, tall and still and impossible to read.
"Eun Ha will be participating in the competition," he said softly.
Gasps echoed.
Ara's eyes widened.
Min Hee's lips parted, stunned.
Even Lady Sook seemed caught off guard. No one could deny Eun Ha's brilliance. The skill in her fingers. The power in her playing. but it was clear that Eun Ha admitted
indirectly that Cheon Sa's skill surpasses hers and they all saw it yet Cheon Sa chose not to be the instrumentalist.
The room remained silent.
But beneath it all, a quiet storm had begun to stir.
"Ara, you're..."
"Please," Min Hee interrupted, her voice calm but firm. "Let me say something first."
Cheon Sa paused, then gave a small nod. "Go on."
Min Hee leaned forward slightly, her hands folded in front of her. Her expression was composed, but her voice carried the weight of something final.
"I've always been praised for my dancing. Even Madam has said she holds high hopes for me. I bring in steady coin. I know how to move, how to charm, how to shine when the lights are on me."
Cheon Sa wasn't sure if she was trying to justify herself or convince him of something else entirely.
"But," Min Hee continued, her voice dipping lower, "I don't have the ambition to go to the capital. I never have. I've never wanted that kind of life. I want something quieter. Something simpler. A good life. A kind home. Maybe even love, if I'm lucky."
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"I don't practice anymore. Not like I used to. And someone like me who isn't even fighting to be better has no business in a place where only the relentless survive."
She turned to Ara, her voice growing soft but sure.
"I've seen you practice. I've heard you sing when you thought no one was listening. What Seo Reun saw today wasn't all of you.. it was fear. But even through that, your voice broke through. That's why I'm giving up my place."
Ara's lips parted in disbelief, her eyes brimming with tears. "Min Hee…"
Min Hee smiled gently as she turned back to Cheon Sa. "I've not seen your face due to the veil, I know you're beautiful. Your voice.. it holds something I've never been able to capture. Something real. I can already imagine how you'll dance and captivate the stage. That's why I believe, truly believe, that you'll be a great dancer."
Cheon Sa's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but at the blind faith Min Ho seemed to carry for him - unshaken, unquestioning, almost naive.
"That's settled then," Cheon Sa said, his voice low.
He turned swiftly, not waiting to witness the tears or the embrace that would follow. He didn't want to linger in the weight of their emotions or see Ara crumble again. Whatever was happening between them belonged to them.
He walked out, silent and swift.
Cheon Sa returned to the room they had prepared for him. The moment he shut the door behind him, he let out a slow, strained breath and reached up to tug the ornate pins from his hair. One by one, they fell to the table with soft, metallic clinks, freeing the weight that had been gnawing at his scalp all evening.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, exhaling deeply as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. The weight of the evening pressed into his chest like damp cloth. His body ached not from movement.
He hadn't seen Min Ho since they arrived. Only caught his voice in passing when he neared the kitchen earlier laughing, carefree, teasing one of the servers like they'd finally found their place in the capital. Cheon Sa didn't have the heart to tell him the truth yet. Let him enjoy the illusion a little longer.
A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.
Before he could respond, the door creaked open.
Ara stepped inside, her face blotched with tears, her makeup streaked and half-washed away. She looked nothing like a performer, no elegance, no poise. Just a girl who had cried too hard.
Cheon Sa sat up, saying nothing. He could feel the words waiting behind her lips.
"I'm glad…" Ara began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad we're in this together, Seo Reun."
Cheon Sa nodded.
"With you… and Eun Ha… we'll win this."
She gave a small nod as if to convince herself it was true.
Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and slipped out the door.
The soft sound of her footsteps fading down the hall, and the quiet hush of the room settling behind her.