Chapter Eight
Afew days later, my schedule arrives. I scan the list of classes and training sessions, a slow smile spreading across my face as I spot the combat training slot. Morning sessions, three times a week. Perfect.
The next morning, I’m practically bouncing with barely contained excitement as I head out to the practice field.
It’s still early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, casting long shadows across the dew-kissed grass.
I’m not usually a morning person, but the thought of finally getting to work with some of the other halfbloods has me buzzing with energy.
I spot a figure already on the field, silhouetted against the rising sun. Must be the other instructor. I pick up my pace, jogging across the field. “Morning!” I call out, shielding my eyes with one hand. “I didn't realize I wasn't—”
The figure straightens, turning to face me. The light shifts, and my stomach drops. It’s him. Dohwan. Standing there, looking all smug and infuriatingly put-together in crisp ruby-red training gear. My smile vanishes, replaced by a scowl.
“You,” I mutter, coming to a sudden stop. My feet feel rooted to the ground, like they’re refusing to carry me any closer to him.
Dohwan smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don't sound so happy to see me.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, my voice laced with suspicion.
“Same as you, I imagine,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement. “I'm the combat instructor.”
My jaw drops. “No. You're not. There's no way.”
He arches a brow. “Disappointed?”
I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms to mirror his stance. “Beyond. I'd rather wrestle a dreadhound.”
“You're the halfblood instructor?” Dohwan's voice drips with skepticism, his eyes raking over me in a way that makes my blood boil.
“What's with that tone?” I plant my feet wider, squaring my shoulders.
He shrugs, but the dismissive gesture only fuels my irritation. “Just not sure you're qualified.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. “I'd be happy to show you exactly how qualified I am.”
“We don't have time for that.” He waves off my challenge with a flick of his wrist, turning to sort through some practice weapons. “We need to prepare for the lesson.”
I arch an eyebrow, studying his rigid posture. “And how do I know if you're qualified to teach if I haven't seen you fight?”
“That's not your assessment to make,” he says without turning around.
“I'm speaking on behalf of my fellow halfbloods.” I step closer, forcing him to acknowledge me. “And frankly, I doubt you have the temperament to effectively teach them.”
Dohwan blows out an annoyed breath, finally meeting my eyes. “Are we going to actually go over the lesson plan, or are we just going to have another verbal sparring match all morning?”
“I'd rather you have it out with me than the halfbloods,” I snap, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.
His eyebrows lift slightly. “And why's that?”
“Because you don't intimidate me.” I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “But these students? They're just learning to control their powers, to understand who they are. The last thing they need is some full-blood fae looking down his nose at them.”
Dohwan makes an irritated sound in his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we focus on the actual lesson plan? We have students arriving in ten minutes.”
I watch him pull out a packet from his bag, spreading it on a nearby table. His movements are sharp, controlled—everything about him screams rigid discipline.
“The first hour will be basic forms,” he explains, pointing to his neat handwriting. “Then we'll pair them up for defensive stances. No actual sparring today—we need to assess their current skill levels first.”
I cross my arms but lean in to study the plan. It's … actually well thought out. Thorough. Much as I hate to admit it, he's clearly put consideration into the progression of skills.
Movement catches my eye—the first students are trickling onto the field, gathering in small clusters on the grass. Their nervous energy is obvious, some shifting from foot to foot while others whisper among themselves. I straighten up, pushing aside my irritation with Dohwan.
These halfbloods need guidance, not a front-row seat to their instructors butting heads. I'll keep my wariness of him, but for now, I'll play nice.
“Fine,” I say under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “Let's get started.”
I pull out the class roster, scanning the names before looking up at the gathered halfbloods. Most of them I recognize and am already familiar with.
“Alright, roll call,” I announce, moving through the small crowd.
I work my way down the list, checking off each name. Everyone's shown up for the first class—probably eager to learn how to better control their powers. When I finish, I walk back to where Dohwan stands rigidly by the practice weapons.
“All present,” I murmur, giving him a short nod.
Dohwan clears his throat and steps forward.
“Good morning. I am Han Dohwan of House Ruby, and I will be your combat instructor.” His voice carries across the field with practiced authority.
He turns slightly, gesturing toward me, then pauses.
A flash of irritation crosses his face as he realizes he has no idea who I am.
I bite back a laugh and step forward. “Hey, everyone! I'm Seo Gawon. Most of you know me already.”
“Morning, Gawon!” several voices call back. One of the girls gives me a little wave while one of the males I recognize as Yeojun's friend flashes me a thumbs up.
Dohwan's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Yes, well.” He straightens his shoulders. “We'll begin with basic forms today. Line up in three rows, arm’s length apart.”
The halfbloods shuffle into position, but I notice they keep glancing my way instead of at Dohwan. His annoyance radiates off him in waves as he moves to the front of the group.
“First position,” he barks out. “Watch my form carefully.”
I watch Dohwan demonstrate the first stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, arms raised in a defensive position. His form is perfect, I'll give him that. But I can already see several of the students struggling to mirror him.
“Like this?” one female asks uncertainly, her arms trembling slightly.
“No,” Dohwan snaps. “Your stance is too wide. Tighten up.”
I move to her side before he can say anything else. “Here,” I say gently, tapping her elbow. “Think of it like you're holding a ball of water between your palms. You want to cradle it, not squeeze it.”
Her posture relaxes immediately, settling into the correct form. She flashes me a grateful smile.
“Next position,” Dohwan calls out sharply. “Watch carefully.”
I continue circling through the students, making small adjustments. A touch here, a quiet word there. Most of them are picking it up quickly, but I can see Dohwan's jaw clenching tighter with each mistake.
“No, no, no,” he barks at one of the males, who flinches. “How do you expect to channel fire if you can't even hold a basic stance?”
“Actually,” I cut in loudly, moving to stand between them, “let's all try this together. Watch me.” I demonstrate the move slowly, explaining each step. “See how the energy flows from your core, down through your legs? That's your foundation.”
The students turn toward me, their attention shifting away from Dohwan's rigid instruction. I can feel his glare burning into my back.
“Now,” he interrupts, stepping forward, “let's see what you can do with your affinities. One at a time, demonstrate your element.”
A tall male steps up first, summoning a small tornado of fire in his palm. It's sufficiently controlled—nice for someone without a lot of practice. But when a smaller female tries to form a sphere of flame, it fizzles out with a burst of sparks.
“Pathetic,” Dohwan mutters. “Again.”
A growl rises in my throat before I can stop it. “Back off,” I snarl at him, baring my fangs. “They're learning.”
Dohwan's eyes flash dangerously as he turns to face me. “They need discipline, not coddling.”
“They need patience and understanding,” I snap back. “Not your superiority complex.”
We lock eyes, neither willing to back down. The tension crackles between us like lightning before a storm.
I'm still glaring at Dohwan when his voice rings out across the field. “Everyone in position! We're going to have a mock battle.”
My head snaps toward him, mouth falling open. The students exchange nervous glances, a few of them taking hesitant steps backward.
“What?” I recover from my shock and step between him and the students. “No, absolutely not. They've barely learned basic stances.”
Dohwan's lips curl back, exposing his fangs—sizeable ones, impressive under different circumstances. “I'll decide when they're ready.”
“The hell you will.” I move closer, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. My own fangs flash as I bare them right back at him. “You seem to be forgetting something, Han Dohwan. You're the co-instructor here. You don't get to make unilateral decisions about our students' training.”
His nostrils flare, and I can feel the heat radiating off him—typical fire fae temper. Behind us, the students shift uncomfortably. I catch glimpses of wide eyes and uncertain expressions as they watch us face off.
“These methods have worked for centuries—” he starts, but I cut him off with a sharp laugh.
“For full-blooded fae, maybe. But these are halfbloods. Our powers work differently; our training needs to be different.” I jab a finger into his chest. “And if you'd bothered to learn anything about halfbloods before charging in here with your superior attitude, you'd know that.”
Dohwan's jaw clenches so tight I can hear his teeth grinding. The temperature around us spikes as his anger builds.
I've had enough. Spinning away from him, I address the class. “Great work today, everyone! You've shown excellent progress for your first session. Class dismissed.”
“I didn't—” Dohwan starts to protest.
“I said,” I growl without looking at him, “class dismissed.”
The students don't need to be told twice. They gather their things quickly, shooting furtive glances between us as they hurry off the field. I can feel Dohwan fuming behind me, but I keep my back turned until the last student disappears from view.
The second the final student clears the field, Dohwan whirls on me, his face flushed with anger. “What the hell was that? You completely undermined my authority!”
“Your authority?” I bark out a laugh. “You mean your tirade?”
“I'm trying to teach them discipline, structure. You're just coddling them, hindering their progress with your soft approach.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, messing up the neat strands.
“And you're being a hot-tempered ass!” I snap back. “Some of these halfbloods have spent their entire lives terrified of using their powers. Many of them have never even attempted magic before coming here.”
“Then they should—”
“No!” I cut him off. “Being harsh on them now could cause their powers to flare up dangerously. Do you have any idea what happens when a halfblood who's been suppressing their magic for years suddenly loses control?”
His lips curl into a sneer. “Enlighten me.”
“Power surges. Massive ones. The kind that could blow up half this complex.” I step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Our magic isn't like yours. It's unpredictable, especially when we're stressed or scared.”
Dohwan's eyes flash. “If they're that dangerous, they shouldn't be wielding magic at all.”
The words hit me, igniting a fury deep in my gut.
“No,” I snarl, baring my fangs. “What it means is they should have had proper guidance years ago.
If it wasn't for self-righteous fae bastards like you treating halfbloods like we're some kind of threat, some problem to be eliminated instead of equal beings of power, we wouldn't be here teaching grown adults how to access their own birthright!”
My chest heaves as I finish, the words echoing across the empty field. Dohwan stares at me, his expression unreadable, but I can see the muscle jumping in his jaw.
“I can't teach them if you're going to undercut everything I say,” Dohwan snaps, running his hands through his hair again. The neat strands are completely disheveled now, matching his frazzled expression.
I let out a harsh laugh. “Do you even want to? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you'd rather see all halfbloods locked in cages somewhere.”
His eyes roll skyward. “Stop being so dramatic. Not everything is an attack on you.”
“You have no idea.” My voice comes out low and dangerous. I step closer, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. “Your kind has taught me well how to expect that everything is, in fact, an opportunity to attack.”
Dohwan shakes his head, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I can't deal with this. I can't deal with you.”
He turns on his heel and starts stalking away across the field. The sight of his retreating back makes my blood boil.
“Running away again?” I call after him, satisfaction curling in my gut when his steps falter.
“I'm going to request a different co-instructor,” he tosses over his shoulder without turning around. “I can't work with you.”
“Good!” I shout at his back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “I'd rather eat my own tongue than work with you, anyway!”