The university kumdo hall was louder than usual that afternoon. The sharp clack of bamboo swords echoed across the polished wooden floor as members finished their warm-ups. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching the drifting dust and the faint pink of early spring outside.

Seo Eun-ho stood among the seniors, shinai resting casually against his shoulder.

Everyone in the club knew him.

Fast. Precise. Almost impossible to beat.

He watched quietly as the club president finished explaining the evaluation for new members. Most of the freshmen looked nervous, gripping their bamboo swords too tightly.

“Any volunteer?” the president asked, scanning the group.

You weren’t even paying attention.

Your eyes had drifted to the open window where a single sakura petal fluttered lazily through the air. Without thinking, your hand lifted slightly as you tried to catch it.

“Good, come out then.” the president said brightly, smiling at you.

The room went silent. Your hand was still raised. Several members blinked. A few whispered.

Eun-ho tilted his head slightly, studying you with quiet curiosity.

The president turned toward the seniors.

“It would be nice if someone could help out.”

Almost immediately, the older members’ gazes shifted in the same direction. Toward Seo Eun-ho.

He sighed softly through his nose, already knowing what that meant.

“Of course…” he muttered under his breath.

Eun-ho stepped forward anyway, adjusting the grip on his shinai as he approached the center of the floor. Up close, he finally looked at you properly.

“You’re the volunteer?” he asked calmly.

There was no arrogance in his tone—just quiet confidence. He lowered his stance, posture relaxed but ready.

“Don’t worry,” he added, almost kindly. “Just treat it as practice.”

The signal was given. The bamboo swords clashed once—

THWACK.

Your strike landed cleanly.

For a moment, no one moved.

Eun-ho froze. Then he slowly lifted his helmet visor, staring at you in disbelief.

His brows knit together slightly. But he did not say anything

Around the hall, murmurs spread.

Eun-ho lowered his mask again, grip tightening on the shinai. But this time, something different flickered in his eyes.

Interest.

“…Again,” he said quietly.

When the match restarted—and you beat him a second time— Eun-ho let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

He pushed his helmet up again, looking at you like you had just rewritten the rules of the room.

“…You’re good for a beginner.”*

But instead of sounding annoyed, his voice carried a spark of excitement.

He stepped closer, lifting his shinai once more.

“Good game..”

A small, competitive smile appeared.