WTSP - 31

“This is harder than I thought.”

Though no one was watching, an inexplicable sense of embarrassment made me blink. My grand ambition to secure first place now felt laughable given my current performance.

It had only been about ten minutes since the hunting tournament began and we entered the hunting grounds, yet prey remained elusive.

I did spot a rabbit—but its nimble leaps were astonishingly fast. After wasting four arrows in futile attempts, I finally gave up.

The arrowheads, previously yellow, turned green after leaving the bowstring. So the enchantment wasn’t a lie—green-tipped arrows wouldn’t count toward the score.

Though I returned the arrows to my quiver, disappointment lingered.

“Feels kind of embarrassing, considering I’m supposed to be a descendant of Jumong. I should’ve asked my archery friends for tips.”

Back in the national training camp, they practiced tirelessly every day. Their overwhelming scores consistently secured gold medals, but I knew the immense effort behind their success.

Beating someone with natural talent who worked so hard was nearly impossible, leaving other competitors in despair.

“Drawing the bowstring isn’t easy at all. No wonder their arm muscles are insane.”

Fully drawing the string required significant strength. My right arm throbbed painfully, making it difficult to maintain posture for long.

Fencing and archery demanded different kinds of physical endurance.

With my bow in hand, I crept deeper into the hunting grounds like a hyena searching for its next meal.

“Wonder what Pompoo’s up to right now.”

Detaching that fluffy ball of mischief from my side had taken a full thirty minutes. Only after promising him two hours of playtime upon my return did he reluctantly let me go.

As a spirit, Pompoo had no physical limitations—he could’ve followed if he wanted—but…

“Seems quiet so far. Maybe he found something new to entertain himself.”

Hiding my presence, I scanned the bushes. There, a fox with glossy orange fur rested peacefully.

Its bloated belly suggested it was a far superior hunter compared to me.

Perhaps dozing off due to spring lethargy, the fox snored softly, lost in deep slumber.

“Waking it feels… wrong.”

Even though the rubber-tipped arrows wouldn’t hurt much, disturbing the sleeping fox stirred guilt within me.

But my competitive drive outweighed my remorse.

Tiptoeing cautiously, I closed the distance. The fox hadn’t noticed my approach yet.

“Alright… just a little closer…”

I held my breath. Spring breezes carried the faint rustle of leaves rolling across the ground. Silence enveloped the surroundings.

Only a few meters separated me from the sleeping fox. All I needed to do was load the arrow, draw the string, and aim.

5, 4, 3… I silently counted down, biting my lower lip.

But as fate would have it, misfortune struck at the worst possible moment.

Just as I focused intensely, akin to the climax of a fencing match, my eyes met those of a squirrel clutching a large acorn.

“Squeak?”

“Shh...”

“SQUEAK!”

The startled squirrel hastily stuffed the acorn into its mouth and bolted away like lightning.

Had it quietly departed, things might’ve ended well—but alas, the squirrel fled while stepping on a dry twig.

Snap.

The sudden noise jolted the fox awake, sending it dashing off. My arrow flew through the air moments later, tracing a parabolic arc before landing uselessly.

Missing my target by mere seconds left me deeply frustrated.

Retrieving the arrow revealed, unsurprisingly, its tip had turned green.

“I have my pride. Surely I won’t end up missing every single shot?”

The worst-case scenario filled my mind. Realistically, no one expected the Fourth Empress to score points anyway.

Ophelia Meredith was widely regarded as delicate and gentle—a fragile noblewoman.

Even Rovair, who trained with me daily, likely didn’t expect much from me.

Yet, I wanted to prove to everyone that Ophelia could grow stronger.

After witnessing characters like Serdel, Brilline, and Yuriel make independent decisions beyond their roles, this desire grew even stronger.

Perhaps I’d unconsciously forced them into rigid molds, dictating, “You must act according to your character.”

“Never once considered such thoughts until these fictional characters came alive before my eyes.”

To those around her, especially her family, Ophelia was merely a pure and frail noblewoman.

No one ever pondered her potential or possibilities.

Living within predefined expectations seemed to be her predetermined fate.

Proving them wrong became one of my goals.

“No one has the right to dictate how I should live my life.”

“Hyeon-hee, you must become the world’s best fencer. That is your sole path. Make me proud.”

These words echoed endlessly in my memory, drilled into me since childhood.

Whenever I thought of Ophelia, overly sheltered by her family, memories of my own father’s gaslighting resurfaced.

“Do our families share similarities…?”

Forcing flowing water into a cube to create ice felt eerily analogous.

Water, free by nature, can flow into rivers or evaporate into the air. Possessing countless possibilities, yet being confined to a singular path.

A wave of suffocation tightened my chest.

“For now, focus on the hunt. Overthinking will only complicate things.”

Lightly patting my cheeks, I scanned the area again.

That’s when a magnificent stag with splendid antlers caught my eye.

Bracing myself, I aimed carefully. Fortunately, the distance was close enough—not unlike the earlier fox. This time, I vowed to hit my mark.

One, two, three. In silent countdown, I released the arrow.

The deer, leisurely munching on fresh grass, bolted instantly upon impact. Success!

Rushing to where it stood, I found only a red rubber-tipped arrow lying on the ground. A narrow miss, grazing its thigh.

“Yes! At least I’ve saved face. How many points was a stag worth, again?”

I vaguely remembered hearing about scoring earlier, but excitement clouded my memory.

Confident I could score higher with remaining arrows, I gazed proudly at the red-tipped arrowhead.

Suddenly, an inexplicable sensation washed over me. It felt as though someone—or something—was watching.

Surveying the area yielded nothing unusual. Still uneasy, I tilted my head and scrutinized my surroundings more closely.

“Something feels off… No animals in sight… Huh?”

At that moment, a peculiar creature emitting an unnatural glow appeared. Its radiant aura unmistakably marked it as mythical, akin to a unicorn cloaked in mystery.

Approaching cautiously, I tried to identify this strange animal.

Was it a rabbit?

Its pointed, twitching ears resembled a hare’s. Yet it wasn’t a rabbit—it flapped wings like a lark.

“A rabbit’s face with a bird’s body…”

This bizarre amalgamation also sported a long, swaying tail reminiscent of a cat.

“Not exactly a sphinx… Who—or what—are you?”

Unsurprisingly, the mysterious creature offered no response.

Though unsure of its identity, I felt certain it meant no harm. Like meeting Pompoo for the first time, a strange sense of calm enveloped me.

Flapping its wings, the creature emitted shimmering fairy dust, glowing like Tinker Bell from Peter Pan.

“Are you another spirit I don’t know? Are you leading me somewhere?”

Entranced, I followed the luminous trail it left behind.

Was this how sailors felt lured by the siren’s song? An inexplicable pull drew me toward the enigmatic creature.

Feeling as though I’d stepped into a fairytale, I ventured deeper into the forest.

“Where are we going? This feels too deep… Should’ve left breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel.”

The mysterious Tinker Bell guided me downhill. Fifteen minutes passed—or maybe more; time felt distorted amidst this surreal journey.

Whenever fatigue crept in, the ethereal guide encouraged me onward.

Finally halting at a specific spot, it signaled we’d arrived.

What unfolded before my eyes defied belief. Trembling, I stared wide-eyed, heart pounding wildly.

The guiding creature gradually dimmed its light, its wings drooping before vanishing into thin air.

Clenching my fists tightly, I approached the shocking scene slowly. My nails dug into my palms as goosebumps prickled my neck.

“This can’t be real… What on earth is this?”