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Haewon's internal conflict weighed heavily upon her the next morning as she paced back and forth within the walls of the cabin. Her worry for Sunghoon clashed with her pride, leaving her torn between conflicting emotions. With each step, she grappled with the decision she had made, questioning whether it was the right course of action.
"What if something happens to him out there?" she muttered aloud, her voice tinged with worry. "He's not ready to face the dangers of the forest alone. It even rained the whole night."
But even as she voiced her concerns, a stubborn resolve crept into her tone. "He needs to learn," she insisted, her words firm. "He can't rely on me forever. This is his chance to prove himself."
Yet, beneath her outward determination, a flicker of doubt lingered. "But what if I'm wrong?" she mused, her brow furrowed with uncertainty. "What if I've made a mistake?"
Her pacing ceased as she sank into a chair, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I can't shake this feeling," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with regret. "I should have been more patient with him."
But as she wrestled with her conflicting emotions, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. "Maybe this will be good for him," she murmured, her tone more hopeful. "Maybe he'll surprise me."
With a heavy sigh, she rose from the chair. "I can feel his heartbeat," she stood in front of the mirror. "As long as I do, I'll know he's okay."
To distract herself, Haewon stepped into the courtyard, the familiar weight of her sword and dagger comforting against her side. With fluid movements born of years of practice, she began her routine. But even as she sparred with imaginary foes, her mind remained fixated on Sunghoon. She couldn't help but replay their argument in her head, each word echoing with a weight she hadn't anticipated.
A glance at the coffee pot brought a wry smile to her lips. Brewing coffee had become a ritual, a comforting habit in the face of uncertainty. Yet today, even the rich aroma failed to soothe her troubled thoughts. She took a sip, the bitter taste lingering on her tongue, a stark reminder of the bitterness of her own regret.
Turning her attention to the cabin, Haewon set about cleaning with a fervor that bordered on frantic. Dusting surfaces, sweeping floors, organizing belongings-all served as a futile attempt to keep her mind occupied, to drown out the nagging voice of worry that threatened to overwhelm her. But no matter how much she scrubbed or rearranged, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her like a heavy blanket.
