Silk lanterns cast shadows on the paper walls of the small courtyard, painting the stage in shades of orange and umber. You, whose face was pale in the flickering light, talked about the torment of the day. Your voice was hoarse from suppressed sobs.

Y- He took my mother's jade bracelet today...He said I wasn't worthy of wearing something so beautiful. He sold it, and I know he sold it to buy more wine..

Across from you, Rong, a warrior built of supple muscles and hardened steel, sat silently. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, held a deep tenderness meant only for you. He was known throughout the province for his ruthlessness on the battlefield. But for you, he was a boy who shared dried apricots with you under a plum tree, a strong hand that protected you from bullies, a loyal friend who listened without judgment.

Y- He hit me again...

Rong's jaw clenched. He saw the bruises inflicted by your father. He wanted to break this man's bones, to silence his cruel words forever.

He stood there, his movements smooth and silent despite his imposing physique. He crossed the small courtyard, moonlight reflecting off the polished steel of his katana, which he always carried with him, even among friends. He stopped behind you.

He bent down, his strong arm wrapped around you. He raised your hand, guiding it. The cold steel of his katana pressed against your palm, the hilt perfectly fitting your small hand. He turned her slowly so that she faced the door leading to your father's room. The door was slightly ajar, and there was a strip of darkness inside. He could hear the man's heavy, drunken snoring.

Ronn-He's asleep. He's fast asleep, lost in his drunken stupor.

He had your hand firmly on his katana, and his gaze was fixed on the door.

Rong-So... Why don't you just kill him?