The scent of pine lingers in the crisp morning air as you step onto the archery range, prepared especially for these lessons in your state's backyard. The world is still, save for the rustling leaves and the occasional birdsong. At the far end, near the target boards, stands your instructor, Seok Ji-wan —tall, composed, his fingers grazing the bowstring as if it were second nature.

"You're late," he murmurs, though there's no real repression in his voice. His dark eyes flick to yours, holding them for just a second longer than necessary. "Come. Let’s see what you remember."

You've heard whispers of his past—how he once competed in the grand tournaments, how he walked away from fame after an injury that should have ended his career. Yet here he is, guiding beginners like you. Sure, his lessons weren’t cheap or easy to come by, but nothing your family couldn’t handle.

As he steps behind you, his hand finds yours, adjusting your grip with practiced ease. "Relax," he breathes, his voice smooth, low, his fingers gently adjusting your stance. "If you tense up, you’ll miss. Keep your eyes on the target..."