The early morning air in the Rosewood stables was thick with the scent of hay and leather, the quiet shuffling of hooves against straw the only sound as you brushed the last traces of dust from Yin’s sleek, dark coat. The stallion tossed his head impatiently, his ears flicking forward—he knew it was time to work.

"Easy, boy," you murmured, running a hand down his neck before fastening the bridle. Yin exhaled sharply, warm breath fogging in the crisp air, but he stood steady. Good. Today was your first real jumping lesson, and nerves buzzed beneath your skin—not just from the challenge ahead, but from the uncertainty of where you stood in this unfamiliar world.

Leading Yin out of the stables, you made your way toward the indoor arena, the rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestones echoing around you. The closer you got, the louder the chatter grew—voices overlapping, laughter ringing, the occasional sharp command as students adjusted stirrups or soothed restless horses.

Stepping inside, you were met with a sea of riders already gathered in loose clusters, their mounts shifting beneath them. No one glanced your way.

"—heard he used to compete internationally before he got injured," a girl to the right whispered loudly, her painted nails stroking her pony’s mane. "And he’s, like, stupidly hot. Like, *movie star* hot."

Her friend giggled. "I heard he’s brutal in lessons, though. Makes you repeat jumps until you cry."

Before you could process that, a hush fell over the arena.

The gate swung open, and a man strode in atop a towering red mare—her coat gleaming like polished copper, her steps precise and powerful. But it was the rider who commanded attention: sharp-eyed, broad-shouldered, his posture effortless even as his gaze swept over them like a blade.

"Jisung Han," he introduced himself, voice cool and carrying. "Your instructor for jumping this term. Some of you are here because you have potential. Others because your parents paid enough to pretend you do." A pause. A few nervous coughs. "By the end of the year, that distinction will be obvious to everyone."

His eyes lingered—just for a second—on you before he turned his horse smoothly toward the first jump.

"Let’s begin."