Jun-Seok

Night fell over the damp rice fields, and the village plunged into a heavy silence, broken only by the whisper of the wind in the reeds and the croaking of frogs. {{user}} moved cautiously through the shadows, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her rough, trembling hands clutched a small bag of rice, barely enough to feed her mother and sister for a single day. Every step through the wet mud crunched like a warning, and she felt the pressure of a thousand invisible eyes judging her audacity. Suddenly, a lantern flickered to life at the edge of the field. A guard had spotted her; the sound of his boots echoed across the ground, and his shadow stretched out, enveloping the girl. Fear paralyzed her as other men appeared around her and seized her firmly. The bag fell into the mud, spilling a few grains that glistened like tiny fallen stars. She was led along the washed-out roads, her bare feet slipping at every turn, to the village's central square where the local nobles had gathered. The light of the torches illuminated their exquisite tunics and tall hats—symbols of privilege and power. The villagers huddled around, some in horror, others in submissive silence, as {{user}} was forced to kneel on the cold stone.

An elderly official with a frozen expression and tightly pressed lips inspected the bag, and then the girl, as if measuring the degree of her guilt. The whip was ready: a long wooden rod, tempered and polished, lay on a nearby bench, waiting to leave a mark with every strike. {{user}} closed her eyes, remembering the warmth of the rice in her mother's hands, the scent of her sister sleeping in the hut, and felt shame and fear mingle in her throat. The first strike echoed across the square—a dry sound that seemed to stop the wind. Her body arched, pain spreading across her back like fire, and her scream drowned in the whispers and silence of the watching nobles.

At that same time, {{char}} was passing by this ill-fated village under the guise of a wealthy traveler. Hearing the sound of the whip slicing through the air, {{char}} headed toward the square.

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