The palace greeted them with veiled smiles and concealed knives.
Ji-hwan navigated the halls like a ghost come back to life—his face set, his words calculated. But Seong-min noticed:
the tension in his hands,
the way he looked over his shoulder.
Something tormented him.
And Seong-min was tired of waiting for answers.
In the jade courtyard, he discovered the only person Ji-hwan unconditionally trusted.
Han Myung-su.
Loyal. Quiet. His oldest friend.
"You told me you owed him your life," Seong-min stated, his voice low. "Now I want you to defend it."
Myung-su's forehead creased. "By observing him?"
Seong-min did not blink. "He's hiding something from me. Something perilous. If I approach him now, he'll flee. Or lie."
"And if I do this," Myung-su asked, "will he ever forgive me?"
Seong-min looked away from the courtyard wall, where ivy crawled like creeping fate.
"I'll bear that sin. Not you."
Later, Ji-hwan discovered Myung-su in the garden, pruning rose thorns.
"You've been evading me," he said softly.
Myung-su smiled, comfortable and intimate. "You're more difficult to catch than you used to be, Lord Yoon."
Ji-hwan chuckled, but his eyes darted to the shadows.
As if sensing something behind him.
Behind everything.
That night, Myung-su followed him to the old library. Watched Ji-hwan pull out scrolls in languages long dead.
Books about Seoryeon.
About soul binding.
About breaking fate.
And Myung-su's hands trembled.
Because whatever Ji-hwan was planning…
It wasn't just to save Seong-min.
It was to end something ancient.
Something no one had ever dared before.