Woojin did not sleep.
Not even for a moment.
He lay still on his side of the bed, arm brushing lightly against Hana's under the shared blanket, listening to every sound in the room—the settling of wooden beams, the distant call of an owl, the faint whisper of wind across paper screens. But none of it calmed him.
Because the only thing he could hear clearly… was her.
Her quiet breathing.
Her warmth beside him.
Her presence anchoring him more than he cared to admit.
Hana, for her part, slept lightly—never fully relaxed, never truly letting go. Even in slumber, she moved like someone trained from childhood to expect danger. Her fingers stayed close to the hidden dagger beneath her pillow. Her muscles remained coiled.
Woojin watched her, unable to look away.
What kind of life carved these instincts into someone so young?
A question he had no right to ask—yet desperately wanted answered.
Suddenly, Hana shifted.
Within a heartbeat, her eyes snapped open—sharp, alert—her hand gripping the dagger before she noticed him.
"It's just me," Woojin whispered quickly.
Hana blinked, breath steadying. "I know. Reflex."
"Reflexes like that," he murmured, "aren't learned from a peaceful life."
Her jaw tightened. "Neither are yours."
Woojin's lips curved faintly. She wasn't wrong. He, too, had grown up under expectations heavy enough to crush weaker men—politics, rivals, ambitious relatives hoping to sabotage his family's influence.
He understood masks. He understood secrets.
But Hana's secrets were built on blood.
And tonight, she seemed even more aware of that truth.
She sat up slowly, pulling her knees to her chest as she stared at the far wall. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, a rare softness hiding the lethal precision she normally carried.
"Woojin," she said quietly, "you shouldn't have brought me here."
He leaned up as well. "I did what was necessary."
"That's the problem."
Her voice was low, almost pained.
"You don't know what you've stepped into."
Woojin studied her profile in the dim lamplight. The curve of her cheek. The shadow along her jaw. The haunted look in her eyes.
"I know enough," he said.
"You know nothing."
Her hands trembled for a second—barely noticeable—but he caught it.
Hana sucked in a sharp breath. "Those people… the ones who left that message… they don't make threats. They make graves."
"And I won't let them make yours," Woojin replied instantly.
Her eyes flashed toward him—an emotion somewhere between anger and disbelief. "You don't even know who I am."
"I know who you are now."
"That's not the same," she snapped.
Woojin didn't flinch. "Hana… let me in."
Those words hit harder than she expected. Harder than she wanted.
Minutes stretched between them, thick with tension neither understood fully.
Finally, Hana exhaled. "If I tell you… you'll leave."
"No," he said immediately.
"Yes," she insisted. "You will."
Woojin's voice softened. "Try me."
But before she could speak—
A heavy thud struck the roof.
Both froze.
Hana grabbed her dagger. Woojin's hand flew to his hidden blade.
Another thud.
And another.
Light footsteps—too light for soldiers—moved across the roof tiles. Three… four… no, five.
They were surrounded.
Hana whispered, "Black Serpent scouts. They move in packs."
Woojin's expression turned cold. "We'll fight."
"No," Hana hissed, grabbing his wrist. "This isn't their kill squad. It's their test. They're watching. Measuring. If we fight… they'll send the real hunters."
"Then what do we do?"
"Stay still."
Woojin stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "Still?"
"Completely," she whispered. "They're listening. Testing boundaries. If we panic… they'll know."
Woojin held her gaze… then nodded.
They sat back-to-back on the bed, bodies tense, breaths controlled.
Footsteps crept from one side of the roof to the other. Someone dragged a blade lightly across a beam—slow, deliberate, like a predator taunting its prey. The sound reverberated through the room, sharp as ice.
Woojin's muscles tightened, but Hana's hand slid over his, grounding him.
"Easy," she murmured.
He swallowed hard. "You act like you've heard this before."
"I have," she said quietly. "Every night, in a past I no longer want."
Woojin turned slightly, but her grip stopped him.
The scouts lingered for what felt like hours—long enough to test Hana's nerves, Woojin's patience, and the thin barrier of safety between them.
Finally… silence.
No footsteps.
No blades.
No presence.
They were gone.
But Hana didn't relax until several long minutes passed. When she finally released Woojin's hand, she realized how tightly she'd been holding it.
"Are they coming back?" Woojin whispered.
"No," she said. "Not until they decide what they want."
Woojin's brow furrowed. "And what do they want?"
"Me."
It was the first time she said it out loud.
Woojin's jaw clenched with fury he couldn't hide. "Then I'll stop them."
Hana shook her head. "You're not strong enough."
He didn't take offense. "Then I'll become strong enough."
Her eyes widened at the quiet determination in his voice.
"Woojin… don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Risk everything for someone who shouldn't matter."
"You matter," he said firmly.
Her breath stuttered.
Woojin leaned closer—slowly, carefully, giving her a chance to pull away. She didn't.
"Hana," he said softly, "I choose this. I choose you. Even if you think you don't deserve it."
She looked away quickly, but he gently turned her face back to his.
"Let me protect you," he whispered.
"No one protects me," she whispered back. "People use me. People hunt me. People leave when they learn what I really am."
Woojin's thumb brushed her cheek—tentative, reverent.
"I'm not them."
Her chest tightened painfully. "And if I become a danger to you?"
"You already are."
She froze.
"But," he continued, "you're a danger I'm willing to face."
Silence.
Thick, warm, electric.
Woojin's face was inches from hers, breath mingling with her own. She felt heat bloom across her skin—unfamiliar, unsettling, addictive.
And before either could stop it, Hana leaned forward slightly.
Not a kiss.
Not yet.
But close enough that her forehead rested against his.
Woojin inhaled sharply.
"That's enough," Hana whispered, forcing herself to pull away. "We shouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because attachments get people killed."
Woojin shook his head. "No. They give people something to live for."
"Then you'll be disappointed," she said softly. "Because I don't know how to live for anything except survival."
Woojin's gaze softened—not with pity, but with something dangerously close to affection.
"Then let me teach you."
The words hit her harder than any blade.
Before she could answer—
A soft rustling outside the window.
A shadow passing by.
Woojin immediately positioned himself between her and danger.
But the presence didn't approach.
Instead, a whisper echoed from outside—too soft to identify, but unmistakably human.
And chilling.
"She belongs to the dark, Scholar. Step aside… before you join her."
Woojin stiffened, fury burning in his eyes.
Hana grabbed his arm. "Woojin. Don't go out there."
He looked at her, and the answer was already in his eyes.
"No," he said. "I won't walk away."
And Hana—for the first time—didn't tell him to.