Haneul took two steps back.
It wasn't far—but it was enough.
Jun-ho hadn't expected it.
The moment he saw her retreat, realization struck him. He had crossed a boundary. Without hesitation, he straightened and bowed, forcing his composure back into place.
—"Forgive me," he said quietly.—"I feared something had happened to you… And my time in the palace was far from pleasant."
Haneul didn't respond to the tension.
Her questions came instead—sharp, urgent.
—"Did you see my father? Is he safe? Does Min know anything?"
Jun-ho let out a short, weary breath, almost a laugh.
He sat down slowly, exhaustion catching up with him.
—"One at a time, Haneul," he said gently.—"I'll answer everything."
He met her gaze.
—"I didn't speak with your father directly… but mine did. He's safe. You don't need to worry."
But then—his expression darkened.
—"I couldn't even speak properly with my father about everything… the situation in the palace is far more complicated than I imagined."
Haneul stilled.
—"What's happening?" she asked quietly.—"Why did your expression change?"
Jun-ho looked at her—and this time, he couldn't hide it.
—"The King is gravely ill," he said.—"And Min now rules in everything but name… but…"
He lowered his gaze.
Haneul stepped forward.
—"But what?"—"Jun-ho… are you hiding something from me?"
Silence.
Then—
—"I'm sorry, Haneul."
His voice barely held.
—"…but the Bujang is no longer among the living."
The world shifted.
—"…what do you mean?" she whispered.
—"We set a trap for Min," Jun-ho said, forcing each word forward.—"It failed. The Bujang… died in the confrontation."
Silence.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Haneul lowered her head.
No tears.
No sound.
Just stillness.
After a long moment, she rose.
Slow.
Rigid.
Controlled.
—"Excuse me," she said coldly.—"I will return to my chambers."
She walked away.
And Jun-ho did not stop her.
Because now—he understood.
Her heart had never been free.
It had always belonged to Kang-dae.
And now—
to his memory.
Days passed.
The observatory became a place of quiet routine.
Haneul and Jun-ho spent long hours together—studying star charts, reviewing ancient records, sharing meals in silence.
To Jun-ho, those moments were bittersweet.
He admired her more with every passing day—
her mind, her discipline, her presence.
But Haneul…
was no longer the same.
Something inside her had dimmed long before.
And with his words—
whatever light remained…
had gone out.
Meanwhile, in the palace—
power fractured.
The Old Councillor gathered the last loyal officials in secret, forming a fragile resistance beneath Min's tightening control.
And eventually, a decision was made.
The King had to be removed.
If he remained in those chambers, he would die.
But there was one problem.
No one could carry out such a mission.
Because the only man capable of doing it—
was believed to be dead.
Far away, in the mountains—
Kang-dae still lived.
Hidden.
Wounded.
Recovering slowly.
Jin-soo never left his side.
He risked his life traveling to nearby villages once or twice a month, bringing food, herbs, and whatever supplies he could gather.
Time passed.
The fevers faded.
The wounds began to close.
Kang-dae could move again.
Train again.
Fight again.
But something inside him had changed.
He spoke little.
Almost nothing.
Between him and Jin-soo—silence ruled.
But inside his mind, one word burned.
Vengeance.
He saw it constantly.
The moment he would stand before Min again.
The moment he would end him.
He knew he would only get one chance.
And this time—he would not fail.
Back at the Han estate, something subtle began to shift.
The rigid formality between Haneul and Jun-ho slowly dissolved.
They began sharing quiet moments—tea by the lotus pond, watching the sun fade into the horizon.
To Jun-ho, it was a quiet torment.
He wanted more—
but restrained himself.
Because he saw it clearly:
She was grieving someone who was no longer there.
And yet—
Haneul endured.
Her heart was shattered.
Her father was in danger.
But the sky…
still belonged to her.
At night, beneath the moon, she found a fragile kind of peace. The stars remained constant—untouched by betrayal, untouched by loss.
No one could take that from her.
From the shadows, Jun-ho often watched her.
Silent.
Still.
And in those moments, he understood:
She did not simply look at the stars.
She belonged to them.
Until one night—everything changed.
A spy arrived.
Breathless.
Urgent.
—"We've seen him," he reported.—"The soldier who always followed the Bujang."
Jun-ho moved immediately.
Orders were given without hesitation.
—"Follow him. Do not lose him. Do not be seen."
Days later, the report returned.
Precise.
Unmistakable.
A hidden cabin.
Deep in the mountains.
Two men inside.
One injured.
One recovering.
And the description—
left no room for doubt.
Kang-dae.
Alive.
Jun-ho read the report once.
Then again.
Slower.
This time, he did not react.
He did not speak.
He did not tell Haneul.
Because truth—
was more dangerous than lies.
Instead, he acted.
Silently.
Carefully.
He summoned a trusted herbalist—an old man who had served the Yi family for decades. A man who understood not only plants…
but survival.
A safe route was arranged.
High-quality medicines are prepared.
Supplies gathered.
Everything Kang-dae would need—
to live.
The encounter in the mountains was tense.
Jin-soo detected the old man long before he reached the cabin.
Sword drawn.
Eyes sharp.
—"One more step and it will be your last," he warned.
The herbalist didn't flinch.
He set down his basket calmly.
—"I bring no trouble," he said.—"Only what the Bujang needs to survive… and to return."
Inside the basket—
red ginseng.
Rare ointments.
Medicine that no ordinary man could obtain.
Jin-soo inspected everything carefully.
Then—
allowed him through.
Inside the cabin, the herbalist found a different Kang-dae.
Not the commander he once knew.
But something colder.
Sharper.
He sat near the fire, cleaning his blade in silence, his body still wrapped in bandages.
The herbalist studied him closely.
The wounds were healing— but the body was not ready.
—"If you continue to force your strength before your blood recovers," the old man warned, applying a cooling ointment,—"Your sword will fail you when you need it most."
Kang-dae said nothing.
He didn't ask who sent him.
He didn't need to.
All that mattered—
Was this man a bridge?
A path back.
He accepted the treatment in silence.
Eyes fixed on the fire.
Mind is already moving ahead.
Planning.
Waiting.
Cliffhanger — End of Chapter
She mourns a dead man.
He protects a living one.
And somewhere between silence and truth—a war is preparing to rise.
Because when Haneul discovers the lie…
It won't just break her heart.
It will change the side she chooses.