Chapter 61 Reserved Seating

On Sunday morning, Jin carried his phone and pin across in the zipped shopping bag, put the pin on and went with Kessa to the bowyer's shop.

Fenn put her new bow on the counter and refused to let her touch it.

“First. Stop smiling at it like that.”

Kessa tried.

Failed.

The bowyer sighed and pushed it across.

Jin watched Kessa run a thumb over the old leather grip, now fitted around a shorter stave of dark wood and pale horn.

“You kept it.”

“You paid me to.”

Kessa handed over the remaining four silver from her own purse. Fenn took her into the narrow shooting yard behind the shop.

The first arrow struck low.

Kessa's smile disappeared.

“Again,” Fenn said.

The second struck beside it.

“It's drawing me forward.”

“You're expecting the old one. Let this one finish its work.”

Kessa set her feet again. This time she held the draw a fraction longer before releasing.

The arrow hit the middle of the straw.

She looked back at Jin.

He grinned.

Fenn folded her arms.

“Now do it when something wants your head.”

“Friendly service,” Jin said.

“You want encouragement, buy a dog.”

Outside, Lark was waiting with bread and the handbill from yesterday. He'd visited the west quarry at dawn. The bell-eater was in the lower pit behind an iron drop gate; the hunting crews would enter from the upper terrace that evening.

“Three of us?” Jin asked.

“If you still want to. They want all the crews working together. Bounty split by contribution.”

Kessa eased the new bow into its cover.

“I want to see the gate before it opens.”

“So do I,” Lark said.

He passed Kessa the handbill. She turned it upside down to examine the little drawing of the creature's feet.

“It climbs?”

“Yes. Rusk wants us working below the upper ledge. He says arrows go in behind the throat plates.”

“He says?”

Lark smiled without much humor.

“I haven't seen one die either.”

Kessa looked at her bow, then back at the drawing.

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“I'll bring the heavy heads.”

Jin took the bread Lark offered. They ate standing against the shop wall, watching Fenn send another customer away because he hadn't brought the bow he wanted repaired.

“You could ask Selene,” Jin said.

“She's already left. Marsh camp has people waiting.”

Lark tucked the handbill away.

“We can leave too. If the ground's wrong.”

Jin checked his Earth phone. Sunday morning. Plenty of time to get home before Yu-ra had to leave.

He agreed to meet them at the inn after his exhibition. There, he paid another silver to keep the room through Monday morning, leaving thirty-seven silver and ninety-seven copper in the chest.

He left his native gear in the room and crossed back alone with the phone zipped in its bag.

At one, Kwon met him outside the charity hall with a visitor band and the expression of a man already regretting several telephone calls.

“No improvised announcements.”

Jin looked at the band.

“Does that include my name?”

“Especially if you change it.”

Yu-ra came out behind him. Her hair was tied back, and she wore a dark team jacket over training clothes.

She took Jin's hand before Kwon could continue.

“You came.”

“Promised.”

She kissed his cheek.

Kwon looked toward the open doors, where two people had immediately lifted their phones.

“Wonderful. That's answered the first question.”

Yu-ra smiled at him.

“You're welcome.”

Dae-seong found Jin beside the practice ring. The B-rank was broad, handsome and wearing very expensive trousers that looked aggressively washable.

He offered a hand.

“I've been warned about you.”

“By whom?”

“People who like you.”

They shook.

Dae-seong showed him the two ribbon belts. The tail fastened at the hip with a simple release loop; a clean pull would take it off. Neither could grab the other's belt or clothes. Pushing and ordinary strikes were allowed. Class attacks were out for Dae-seong, while Jin could use his disclosed movement skill.

Each could bring one blunt handheld prop.

“I chose the baton,” Dae-seong said, showing him a padded practice weapon.

Jin looked at the ring, then at the rows of white plastic chairs.

“May I borrow one?”

Dae-seong followed his gaze.

“To sit on?”

“Eventually.”

“Absolutely.”

The private window arrived while Dae-seong was still laughing.

Jin looked at the chairs again.

“Actually, would you like to buy a ticket?”

“To what?”

“Your defeat. Front row.”

Dae-seong blinked, then laughed harder.

“How much?”

“A thousand won. It goes to the charity.”

“If you lose?”

“Still goes to the charity. I'm shameless, not running a bank.”

Dae-seong took a note from his wallet and passed it over.

Jin wrote HWANG DAE-SEONG: DEFEAT, ONE SEAT on a spare event card. He handed it back, then put the thousand won into the donation box beside the ring.

One of the event volunteers started filming.

“You should have charged him more,” she said.

Jin looked at the large man reading his ticket.

“I may need repeat business.”

Before the doors opened, he walked two routes on the mat from the same blue corner mark. Three strides toward the left-hand rope. Four to the padded upright on his right. Recording them replaced the old road pair.

Dae-seong watched openly.

“There?”

He tapped the right-hand finish with his baton.

Jin nodded.

The B-rank smiled and tapped the other one too.

By three, the seats were full. Theo waved from beside Mira. Min-jae held her dinosaur on his knees, looking as if he'd lost another negotiation.

Yu-ra stood at the ring steps.

“Have fun,” she told Jin.

“Any advice?”

She glanced at the plastic chair under his arm.

“Make him regret paying.”

Across the ring, Dae-seong tucked the ribbon tail behind his left thigh and turned his empty right side toward Jin.

He tapped the ticket in his pocket and smiled.