Seong-Jin sat in the depths of the royal library, the candlelight flickering over the aged scrolls before him.
The Queen's sudden hostility toward Dan-Bi had stirred something in him—something more than mere curiosity.
It was fear.
Dan-Bi had always been bold, but this time, the Queen's move had been calculated, decisive. Too personal.
Why?
He ran his fingers over the neatly stacked records, searching.
If there was one thing he knew about the palace, it was that secrets never truly disappeared.
Then—
His hand stopped.
A single, dusty scroll lay buried beneath the rest, its seal half-broken.
Carefully, he unraveled it.
A birth record.
His brows furrowed.
The Queen had only one son—him.
So why was there another name written beneath hers?
He traced the ink with careful precision.
Yi Yan-Bi.
His breath hitched.
Yan-Bi?
His stomach dropped.
He read further.
"Born under the first queen, accused of treason before exile. The child was never recorded in official royal documents."
The candlelight flickered violently, mirroring the storm inside him.
Dan-Bi…
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Dan-Bi was not just a scholar.
Dan-Bi was royalty.
And more than that—
His sibling.
Or at least, he thought he was his sibling.
The paper trembled in his grip.
The Queen knew.
And she was trying to erase Dan-Bi before anyone else found out.
Seong-Jin's hands clenched into fists.
If she was willing to eliminate Dan-Bi so swiftly, then—
He was running out of time.
Steel clashed against steel.
Dan-Bi twisted, dodging a blade aimed at his throat.
The assassins moved like shadows, silent and merciless.
He ducked low, sweeping his attacker's legs out from under him.
A gurgled cry.
The second came from behind.
Dan-Bi barely turned in time, his dagger slicing through flesh.
A hand grabbed his wrist, wrenching him back.
The informant.
Dan-Bi's breath hitched.
The man's mouth opened—then choked.
A blade buried itself deep in his chest.
Dan-Bi's world tilted.
"No—"
The informant coughed, blood spilling between his lips.
He grabbed Dan-Bi's wrist, forcing something into his palm.
A blood-stained letter.
"D-don't trust…" the man gasped.
Then his body slumped.
Lifeless.
Dan-Bi swallowed the rising bile.
More assassins lurked in the alley's shadows, but he didn't wait.
He turned—
And ran.
The bloodied letter burned in his palm.
He had lost the informant—
But he still had the truth.
The Queen's chambers were eerily quiet.
Dan-Bi's fingers clenched around the bloodied letter.
Enough.
If she wanted him gone, she would have to face him first.
The doors creaked open.
The Queen sat with poised elegance, pouring tea into a delicate porcelain cup.
She didn't look surprised.
"Scholar Dan-Bi," she mused. "You are rather bold, coming here at such an hour."
Dan-Bi's jaw tightened.
"And Your Majesty is rather cruel, sending assassins to do your bidding."
She paused, then sighed.
"You are mistaken."
Dan-Bi threw the bloodied letter onto the table.
Her expression remained unreadable.
Then she lifted the parchment with graceful fingers, glancing at the smeared ink.
Slowly, she smiled.
"You are just like your mother," she murmured.
Dan-Bi stiffened.
"…What?"
The Queen set the letter aside.
"She, too, was foolish enough to stand against me."
The words were a blade to his chest.
Dan-Bi's hands curled into fists.
She knew.
She had always known.
The Queen tilted her head, watching him closely.
"Do you truly believe you can win?" she whispered.
Dan-Bi's breath trembled.
He was trapped.
And yet—
His eyes darkened.
The game was not over.
Not yet.