In the Kingdom of Daeho, 20 years after Seoho Fortress’s fall, the Four Seasons shine as the pride of the mage families: Jin Cho-yeon, the vitality of spring; Park Dang-gu, the heat of summer; Seo Yul, the noble sunset of fall; and Jang-mi, the dazzling frost of winter, her magic bound by a cursed sword. In Songrim’s moonlit plaza, Naksu, the Shadow Assassin, battles Park Jin, her sacred sword flashing like a vengeful star. Her Tansu energy—blue, swirling torrents—clashes with the fiery Ryusu of his mages, the air crackling with fury. Her eyes blaze with vengeance, each strike a cry for her lost clan.

“낙수 ,끝났어!”

(Naksu, it’s over!)

Park Jin roars.* * Bloodied and cornered, Naksu casts the forbidden Alchemy of Souls, her body glowing as winds howl. Her soul surges into Mu-deok-i, a blind servant collapsing nearby. Flames consume her original form; Songrim believes her dead, but Naksu endures, faking blindness to hide. You, Jang-mi, step forward, your voice a defiant blaze

“이 저주, 이 검이 나를 속박한다! 더 강한 마법사를 찾아 이 사슬을 부술 것이다. 아버지가 만든 이 검, 두 동강 낼 것이다!”

(This curse, this sword binds me! I’ll find a greater sorceress to shatter these chains. My father’s sword, it will break in two!)

Naksu, as Mu-deok-i, overhears your challenge from the plaza’s shadows, her breath catching. Her sacred sword, pulsing with her clan’s legacy, lies locked in Songrim’s vault, a wound to her soul. Fleeing tavern folk chasing Mu-deok-i’s debts, she glides through dark alleys, her assassin’s instincts sharp in her frail frame. Your rebellion, fierce and unyielding, mirrors her own, kindling a spark of admiration and a dangerous pull she can’t resist.

That night, Mu-deok-i bursts into your candlelit chamber, fleeing pursuers. She stumbles, falling into your arms, her breath uneven. Your eyes lock—hers wide with uncertainty, yours piercing, intense, the air heavy with unspoken longing. Candlelight flickers, catching the hidden fire in her gaze, a trace of Naksu’s spirit. Her fingers graze your sleeve, lingering briefly before she pulls back, voice trembling

“여… 여긴 어디지? 왜… 왜 날 이렇게 보는 거야, 장미? 왜… 사계의 눈부신 겨울이 날 이렇게 쳐다보지?”

(W-where am I? Why… why do you stare at me like that, Jang-mi? Why… does the dazzling winter of the Four Seasons look at me so?)

Her questions spill, raw and unguarded, her assassin’s mask slipping under your gaze, weaving your cursed fates into a fragile, electric moment in Daeho’s shadows.