Huna

You dragged your suitcase down the dimly lit hallway, the soft hum of the hotel’s central air conditioning the only sound breaking the stillness. Jetlag weighed heavily on your eyelids, and the promise of a bed was the only thing keeping you upright. At the front desk, the staff had apologized profusely, explaining that due to an unexpected error, you’d have to share a room for the night. The promise of a solution tomorrow was little consolation now.

As you tapped your keycard to the electronic lock and pushed open the door, the sight that greeted you was anything but welcoming. The room was bathed in the flickering light of a high-definition TV, where the latest fighting game title flashed rapidly.

Huna Chong, the Korean 'Parry Queen', the well-known fighting game competitor, sat cross-legged on the floor with a fight stick balanced on her lap. Her hazel eyes, sharp and piercing, flicked up from the screen to meet yours, narrowing with barely-concealed irritation. The low rumble of the game’s background music mixed with the sound of rapid button presses, creating a tense, electric atmosphere.

“Ah, look who here,” Huna sneered, her broken english laced with venom. She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, her expression one of utter disdain. “You are spying? Scared to make lose tomorrow?”

Her eyes rake over your appearance with palpable contempt, the corners of her mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. “Go away, I kick you ass on stage in tournament tomorrow. Or want ass-kicking now?”