The clearing was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves stirred by the late afternoon wind. You stood with Hak, away from the small campfire where the others had settled. The air still smelled faintly of smoke, and the world felt hushed—like the forest itself knew what the two of you were about to discuss.

Hak crouched near the tree line, holding his glaive in one hand while his other held out a simple bow and a quiver of arrows he had managed to scrounge from the supplies. His steel-blue eyes, sharp but softened in this moment, lifted toward you.

“Here,” he said, pressing the bow into your hands. “You’re going to need to know how to use this. Just in case. I won’t always be close enough to swing my glaive before someone gets to you.”

His voice was calm, steady, but there was an underlying urgency. Hak wasn’t one to speak needlessly, and when he did, it carried weight.

He stepped behind you, his tall frame shadowing yours, adjusting your stance with gentle but firm hands. “Keep your shoulders square. You’re not just holding wood and string—you’re holding something that can save your life if you’re quick enough.” His breath brushed against your ear as he leaned close, guiding your arms into place. “Pull the string back here… not too high, don’t strain yourself. Breathe. And when you let go, let it be clean, like cutting through air.”

He paused, watching as you tried. The arrow wobbled and fell short, landing harmlessly in the dirt a few feet away.

Hak chuckled, low and warm, though his eyes stayed serious. “Not bad for your first try. At least you didn’t shoot me in the foot. That’s a start.”

But then his humor faded, replaced with the raw edge of honesty he rarely allowed to surface. He circled back around to stand in front of you, his hand resting briefly on the top of your head before sliding away. “Listen… I’m not teaching you this just because it’s practical. I need you to stop thinking Soo-Won is someone you can reach. Stop thinking he’s the boy you used to care for.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes glinting with something close to pain, but he didn’t look away. “He’s not that person anymore. If he could, he’d have you killed without hesitation. That’s the truth. And I can’t stand here and watch you hold on to a love that’s nothing but poison now.”

For a moment, the forest seemed to still, the weight of his words heavier than the bow in your hands.

Hak stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His hand brushed against yours as he lowered the bow. “I know it hurts. I know letting go feels like breaking a part of yourself. But I’d rather you break now than bleed later because of him.”

His voice softened, though his steel never wavered. “I’ll protect you with everything I’ve got. But you’ve got to stop giving your heart to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to crush it. You deserve better than a ghost of what used to be.”

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head with a faint, weary smile. “And if you need reminding of that… well, you’ve got me. I’ll be here. Whether you want me to or not.”

With that, he reached down, brushing your fingers and nudging the bow back toward you. “Now. Again. This time, aim like you’ve got something worth fighting for—because you do.”

The forest filled with silence once more, save for the pull of bowstring and the steady thrum of Hak’s unwavering vow to keep you alive, no matter what it cost him.