From the elevated stands, Miye watched in silence, holding the Dove tightly like a child hugging a doll to escape nightmares. 

Below him stood two men poised on the brink of adulthood, yet fighting as though only one of them would leave the arena alive. The air reeked of iron and smoke, the ground darkened by blood long since soaked into the earth.

Esha Fardeyn was drenched in it.

Soot and crimson streaked his bronze armor, the blood of fallen warriors clinging stubbornly to his frame. His copper headpiece sat askew, revealing eyes stained red - one swollen shut from a vicious, unforeseen strike. Yet even maimed, he refused to fall.

Opposite him stood Yugwon.

Silver armor gleamed beneath the sun, unmarred save for the blood dripping steadily from the tip of his sword. His breathing was even, his posture unshaken, as though this carnage were nothing more than a tedious chore.

With a roar torn from wounded pride, Esha charged.

Veins bulged along his arms as he swung with everything he had left. Yugwon sidestepped effortlessly, turning with fluid precision and striking Esha's back with the gilded hilt of his blade.

A wet cough followed.

Blood spilled from Esha's lips, but he did not stop.

Grinding his teeth, he forced himself upright, his lone uninjured eye lifting briefly to meet Yugwon's gaze. What he saw there froze his blood more than any wound.

Indifference.

Cold, absolute indifference, as though Esha were nothing but an insect beneath his boot, something to be crushed at leisure.

Humiliation burned deeper than pain.

With a snarl, Esha twisted, thrusting his sword backward in a desperate, reckless strike.

For the first time, Yugwon was forced to retreat. His eyes narrowed sharply, fury flaring within their depths, a red sheen bleeding along the edges of his slanted gaze. His patience snapped.

Seizing Esha's arm, Yugwon raised his blade with clear intentions.

The stadium gasped, and then…

"That is enough!"

The voice cut through the air, neither wholly masculine nor feminine, followed by the flapping of feathers that echoed after the voice.

Yugwon froze.

That single heartbeat was all Esha needed. He tore his arm free and drove his foot into Yugwon's abdomen, sending him skidding several strides back. Yugwon landed on his knees.

The outcome was clear:

Esha Fardeyn of Balliard had won.

The arena erupted with joy, and some with disheartened looks.

Cheers thundered across the stadium, voices hoarse with awe at the brutal magnificence of the match. Amid the chaos, Yugwon lifted his gaze to the stands, his eyes finding Miye.

Those cognac eyes shimmered like intoxicating wine, unreadable and distant.

The Jugeum Games had ended. 

At the gates of the grand palace, Hwa Yugwon stood composed, offering formal farewells to the departing dignitaries. One by one, kings and princes departed, each flanked by royal retinues.

Only Esha Fardeyn stood alone. There was no king, nor a queen. Just a single guard at his side.

"Prince Hwa Yugwon," Esha spoke calmly, "I must admit, had it not been for the Flower Princess, I would have lost my arm that day."

Yugwon's gaze sharpened, settling on the scarred prince before him. A golden bead once adorned Esha's right eye; now it was hidden beneath a dark eye covering.

"Ha…" Yugwon turned away slightly.

Esha continued, unbothered. "Speaking of which… I do not see her."

"And why," Yugwon asked coolly, "would Hwa Miye's presence be required here?"

"Hwa Miye," Esha repeated softly, a smile touching his lips. "What a beautiful name."

"..."

"I believe," Esha added, "That her presence is quite necessary, considering the terms of our wager. Surely you remember?"

Yugwon's chest tightened. Why was Miye being dragged into this? What could this foreign prince possibly want?

His blood burned. Before Yugwon could object, Esha spoke again, his tone sharpening.

"I gave up my eye because I am a man. Scars are tolerable." His gaze hardened. "But had you severed my arm, I would have been stripped of my right to the throne. Do you truly believe my father, the King of Balliard, would have remained silent?"

Yugwon's fists clenched. He wanted to kill him.

But every eye was upon them. He swallowed his rage, burying it deep beneath layers of royal composure.

"Then," Yugwon asked through clenched restraint, "What do you want from Hwachon before you depart?"

Esha laughed softly, "Ah… now we speak plainly."

The smile vanished.

Beneath the blazing sun, his lone eye gleamed with something sharp and dangerous.

"Bring me the Flower Princess, her highness, Hwa Miye."