Aunt Han once said that dice were something you must never touch. The Young Master didn't understand, feeling …
Aunt Han once said that dice were something you must never touch.
The Young Master didn't understand, feeling only an unbearable itch of curiosity. But on second thought, Aunt Han always had her reasons for everything she did. Besides, he was a man destined to become a great hero; what was a little bit of forbearance to him?
Yet, the image of the crowd cheering around the dice would constantly, quietly creep into his mind in the quiet moments between his studies and sword practice.
Until one night, the Young Master had a bizarre dream: he had actually turned into a die himself, spinning endlessly across the table amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd.
The louder they cheered, the more joyfully he spun. But the moment the spinning stopped, his heart felt terribly hollow... In that dream, it felt as though he was only a good die if he was earning their applause.
Awakening with a start, a thin layer of cold sweat soaked the Young Master's back. Outside the window, the moonlight was clear and bright. He let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.
"Aunt Han was right after all."