A tall pace stood in front of me with its sweeping, upturned roof and beautiful carvings on its rge and intricate pilrs. It had been aged throughout many years with signs of animals nesting. If I looked past a tall wooden fence that wasn’t nearly as old or worn as the pace, I could see a small pavilion. Inside the open pavilion was a concrete fountain where birds drank and sang happily with their family. I, however, was not with my family. This pace is where I live. Having a pace at my age despite having neither riches nor fame was very rare. In fact, I would never be in this situation if it weren't for my grandfather. A very long time ago, around thirteen years, I had just turned four years old. My parents had taken me out for a picnic in our favorite spot. We set our things up in an enchantingly beautiful forest, at least that’s how I remember it to be. Like all our other family outings, we talked and enjoyed ourselves. Not long after, I felt a potato bag being forced over my head to restrict my eyesight. I assume my parents had to go through a simir experience. That day is one of the few memories I had left of my parents. I can’t quite remember what happened after the bag was thrown over my head, and I’m sure that I had passed out from fear. However, that was the st time I ever saw my mother and father. Some time ter, an old man had found me beat up and exhausted in an alley near the pace. He has been taking care of me since then, and now I have gotten accustomed to living without my parents. That brings me back to now, where I stand outside of the pace in the middle of the night. For the past few nights, I have frequently snuck outside for fresh air and a nice walk through town. I often become too tired in the morning from my outings and sleep in, however it is a habit I for some reason cannot break. As per usual, I start walking down a pebble road leading away from the pace and to the town. While walking, I recall what makes my grandfather so special. He is secretly the strongest swordmaster in all of Murim. Not many remember him, as he disappeared from the civilians’ sight. For the past 30 years, he has lived in that old pace alone besides a couple servants. That was at least until I came along. My existence has also been hidden from everyone but a small few, simir to my grandfather. This is why I have been stuck wandering alone at night. As a young woman, I would understand if I was seen as the perfect target to attack. However, my grandfather passed his martial art skills onto me during my time with him. This gives me peace of mind, and although I have been attacked before by a few ruthless bandits, none of them have ever touched even a hair on my body. I suppose I could thank my grandfather for that. As I arrive in a dreary town that seemed devoid of all human life, I look around for something to enjoy. At this time, I doubt any restaurants would be open. Despite most businesses closing for night, one bar seemed to only be open at night. I had been a regur for the past few nights, and have gotten myself used to the owners. I opened the heavy wooden doors to the bar, and inside was quite lively. Many people visited the bar after a long day at work, and some even went to escape their spouse. I sat down at my usual seat at the bar. Unfortunately, the owners would refuse to serve me alcohol with the excuse that I was just too young. So, I waved the bartender over to me and ordered a simple juice. Minutes ter, I received a cold, orange fvoured juice in a short beer gss. “‘Most you could do is pretend,” the bartender could barely hold in his ughter. I gave him a look of disappointment and rolled my eyes. I suppose he was right, although I could not savor a nice beer, I could at least use my imagination. My eyes wandered around the room, there were several full tables scattered around the bar with people enjoying their night. Something else caught my eye, though. It was a poster that was just recently hung. I gathered myself and walked towards the poster board. The one that caught my eye the most was one with a depiction of a sword drawn across it. The wording was neatly written, stating the rge event that would occur every year in the fall. Such an event could only be the entrance exam to the rgest academy in all of murim; the Orthodox-Unothodox Martial Arts Academy. The academy allows anyone to join, no matter what sect they’re from, with the exception of the Demonic Cult. Despite the fact that a martial artist of any sect is able to join, applicants have to go through a series of difficult tests just to prove themselves worthy of entering the academy. This made it incredibly difficult to join, and it was considered one of the greatest achievements a martial artist could achieve. Seeing the poster gave me a sense of excitement. I had always wanted to get out of the stuffy pace walls, and this would give the perfect opportunity. However, I know my grandfather would never allow that. I gave up on that idea quickly and decided to make my trip back home. When I returned to the pace, I yed on my rge bed, which does not seem suitable for only one person. Suddenly, I had another idea, one that would probably be one of the worst I could ever have. I would simply run away. If I did that, I could easily apply for the academy. But, the problem is that my grandfather would come looking for me. He would most likely find me right away if I looked the same as I do now. So, another idea came to mind. I would dress as a man! This would also give me an opportunity to live freely without nasty remarks about being a weak and frail woman. It was settled. I would leave tomorrow night, giving me plenty of time to prepare a disguise.