The palace gardens at midnight were a labyrinth of perfume and deception. Moonlight dripped through silver branches, casting shadows long enough to hide a thousand secrets.
Countess Eunha Valestria walked alone among the marble statues, her heels whispering against the stone. Behind her, she heard footsteps — light, cautious, but unmistakably deliberate.
"Following a lady without invitation, Your Highness?" she said without turning.
Prince Seojin emerged from behind a sculpted column, his smirk soft enough to fool most. "I was merely ensuring my guest found her way safely."
Eunha stopped beside the statue of a winged knight. "How thoughtful. Though I imagine I'd be safer without company tonight."
Seojin laughed. "Still as cutting as ever. Do you truly hate me that much?"
She met his eyes — bright, blue, and dangerous. "Hate? Oh no, Your Highness. I reserve hate for men who still have power over me. You… are merely nostalgia."
The prince flinched, almost imperceptibly. "Then let me become something more useful to you than memory."
He took a step closer, his voice low. "The Empire grows restless, Eunha. The Council of Lords eyes your return with suspicion. You'll need allies in the months ahead. I can offer that."
"You?" she said, arching a brow. "Last I remember, you offered alliances like a man offers wine — only to watch who drank first."
Seojin's lips curved. "Perhaps you've mistaken caution for cruelty."
Eunha's tone turned silk-edged. "Perhaps I've mistaken your cowardice for charm."
For a moment, neither spoke. The night air crackled — that fragile space between attraction and threat.
Finally, Seojin sighed. "I see. Still playing the game."
"Always," she murmured. "Because I learned from the best."
He smiled, but his eyes hardened. "Careful, Countess. You might find the board less forgiving this time."
"I never needed forgiveness, Your Highness," she replied, brushing past him. "Only memory."
---
⚜️
At the same hour, Sir Jiheon Ardent stood watch at the outer courtyard. The moonlight painted his armor in ghostly hues, his breath steady despite the weight in his chest.
The Countess's question from earlier replayed in his mind — "Do you believe a man's fate can be changed?"
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to believe in something more than orders and discipline. But when he tried to recall his past — before the knighthood, before the empire — there was only haze.
He remembered training. Pain. Loyalty.
But not who he had been loyal to.
"Still brooding?"
Captain Daejun Kareth approached, his usual smirk in place. "You look like you're trying to fight a ghost."
"Maybe I am."
Daejun studied him. "Ardent, when I found you five years ago bleeding on that northern battlefield, you had no name, no memory, and no reason to live. I gave you all three. Don't start doubting the gift."
Jiheon's jaw tightened. "I'm grateful. But lately—"
"You've been dreaming again," Daejun interrupted. "Haven't you?"
The knight's silence confirmed it.
Daejun's tone dropped. "Dreams are dangerous. They make soldiers hesitate. Forget them."
"I can't."
"Then at least don't act on them," Daejun said, turning away. "The Countess is not your concern. Her kind devours men like us."
But as Jiheon watched the captain disappear into shadow, he couldn't shake the feeling that Daejun's warning came from experience — not caution.
---
⚜️
Back in her private chambers, Eunha removed her jewelry slowly, each piece a memory she'd learned to weaponize. The silver hawk pin, the sapphire earrings, the ring she'd once received as a promise — all relics of a past life that still bled beneath her skin.
Mirae entered quietly. "Milady, should I prepare your tea?"
"Yes. And add valerian root."
"For sleep?"
"For focus," Eunha said. "I'll need my mind sharp."
As the maid left, Eunha approached the mirror. Her reflection was calm, regal — a mask honed by necessity. Yet in the glass, she caught something flicker behind her — a figure, briefly there and gone.
When she turned, the room was empty.
But her pulse was not calm.
Something was shifting in the weave of fate — threads moving differently this time.
She whispered to her reflection,
"Let's see if destiny can be unstitched."
---
⚜️
At dawn, Jiheon was summoned to the royal stables for an assignment. The message bore the prince's seal.
Inside, Seojin awaited him — radiant as ever, eyes sharp with the gleam of entitlement.
"Sir Ardent," Seojin greeted. "You're to serve as escort to Countess Valestria for her upcoming visit to the capital archives."
Jiheon stiffened. "The Countess?"
"Yes. She requested you by name."
The knight blinked. "By… name?"
Seojin smiled thinly. "Curious, isn't it? Perhaps she finds your presence… reassuring."
His tone held a quiet warning.
"Of course, Your Highness," Jiheon said, bowing slightly. "I'll protect her with my life."
"I'm counting on it," Seojin replied, turning toward the window. "Though between us, Sir Ardent — try not to let her charm undo your discipline. The Countess is beautiful, but beauty like that comes with teeth."
Jiheon's reply was automatic. "Understood."
As he left the stables, the prince's words echoed — and yet, all Jiheon could think about was the strange pull in his chest. The sense that this mission was not duty, but déjà vu.
---
⚜️
That afternoon, the Countess's carriage waited by the marble fountain. Eunha stepped inside, poised as always, her gaze distant until Jiheon mounted the horse beside her escort.
"Sir Ardent," she said quietly through the carriage window. "It seems fate enjoys repetition."
"Or irony," he replied.
"Perhaps both," she murmured, and smiled — the kind of smile that hides both truth and terror.
As the carriage rolled toward the capital, Eunha closed her eyes. In her mind, she replayed the last life's version of this journey — when Jiheon had died protecting her from an assassin she hadn't seen coming.
Not this time.
This time, she would see every blade before it struck.
And as for Jiheon…
She would save him before he remembered the truth — that he had once been her executioner.