While he waited at the cliff's edge, the young Bujang studied every shadow with meticulous attention.
He knew Haneul's escape was a suicidal gamble. If anyone discovered her chambers empty, the consequences would be catastrophic. She would not merely be accused of conspiring with an army officer—her reputation would be shattered, her father's honor dragged through the mud. One mistake that night would cause damage beyond repair.
But he was not unguarded.
Three men he trusted with his life patrolled the perimeter in silence, hidden among the brush. They owed him their lives. Tonight, their task was simple: ensure no spy of Councilor Min stalked the forest.
For Kang-dae, the girl's safety had become as vital as his own.
Haneul ran toward the cliff, her lungs burning.
With each step over jagged stone, questions battered her mind.
Why had he summoned her here?
Why risk everything after their last encounter had ended in sharp words and wounded pride?
Fear and curiosity battled in her chest—but her feet did not falter.
She needed answers.
Only the man waiting above could give them.
Kang-dae stood at the precipice, his gaze fixed on the void below when she arrived. She stopped several steps away, watching the rigid line of his shoulders, the controlled strength in the way he gripped his sword.
"How long do you intend to stand there?" he asked without turning.
She startled.
How had he sensed her?
Ashamed of her hesitation, she stepped beside him. Silence fell—broken only by the warm wind stirring the treetops far below.
Then suddenly, he turned.
His eyes burned.
"You and your father are in danger."
The words struck like steel.
"What?" she breathed, though she already knew.
"Do you understand the gravity of what you have done?" He stepped closer, his voice thick with restrained fury. "Those maps. Who truly made them?"
The pressure, the fear, his proximity—
Something inside her shattered.
"I did," she whispered. "I drew them."
Horror crossed her face as her hands flew to her mouth.
His expression transformed into something fierce and disbelieving.
"Do you not know how to wash your hands?" he snapped, losing control. "How dare you confess such recklessness? Have you lost your mind?"
Startled by his anger, she stepped back—
Too far.
Her heel found nothing.
Air vanished from her lungs.
In a lightning reflex, Kang-dae lunged forward. His hand closed around the collar of her robes and yanked her violently toward him.
The impact was solid.
She collided against his chest.
His arms locked around her body, anchoring her to the earth.
And in that instant—
The universe stilled.
The wind fell silent.
The forest hushed.
Even the air seemed to freeze.
I felt the weight of his hands, firm and unyielding, grounding me to life when moments before I had been falling into death.
It was not a warmth that burned.
It was a warmth that claimed.
My face pressed against the roughness of his armor. His breath brushed my hair.
A single thought thundered through my mind:
Who is this man?
What warrior can steady my body with one gesture and shatter my soul with the same breath?
In that suspended silence, I understood something terrifying.
My greatest danger was not the cliff.
Not my father's secret.
Not Councilor Min.
It was the wild, reckless beat of my own heart answering his beneath the moonlight.
The world remained silent.
But inside me, something ancient awakened.
As his heart pounded against mine, a strange certainty wrapped around me:
We had known each other before.
Under another sky.
In another lifetime.
His heartbeat.
I had heard it before.
It was a rhythm my blood recognized, even if my mind could not.
Where had we met?
In what dream—or in what forgotten existence—had his arms held me like this before?
The days crumbled into a suffocating wait.Silence settled over Haneul like a weight—feeding an unease she could not extinguish, not even beneath the discipline of the stars. Whenever the wind moved through the trees, she thought she heard the young Bujang's voice… and found only emptiness.
One night, the rhythmic strike of hooves on wet ground shattered the calm. Her momjong burst into her chambers, breathless, announcing that an escort was approaching the property.
Haneul's heart surged against her ribs, and an ill-made hope lit her eyes. She ran to the main gates, expecting to meet Kang-dae's severe—yet human—gaze.
But fate had prepared a bitter disappointment.
Standing before her was not the warrior who lived in her dreams, but a nightmare given flesh: Min Seok-ryeon's personal guard, the silent executioner of his darkest will.
He was a stain of shadow in the night—an imposing man whose very height demanded retreat, whose heavy stride seemed to make the earth tremble beneath him. Most disturbing was the dark-blue silk scarf that concealed his entire face, a mystery the Councilor excused as the scar of some forgotten war.
Yet behind that cloth burned eyes like embers from hell—eyes that could freeze the blood of anyone foolish enough to hold their stare.
"A letter for the Chief of the Observatory," he said.
His voice did not sound human. It was a deep, guttural growl—as though his throat had forgotten compassion.
With trembling fingers and disappointment carved into her expression, Haneul accepted the document. In that instant, she understood the truth: this was not a courtesy.
It was a warning.
The eye of the storm had finally turned toward her home.