Moonlight spilled across the courtyard stones as Hana moved like a shadow, barely touching the ground. The palace was quieter than she had ever heard it—no whispering eunuchs, no patrolling guards chatting softly to stay awake. Only the tension in the night air remained, thick enough to taste.
Someone moved the body. Someone cleaned the blood. Someone expected me to come back.
She could feel eyes watching.
She just didn't know whose.
A faint breeze brushed against her cheek. She froze instinctively, stepping behind a stone pillar. Her hand slid toward the dagger concealed in her sleeve.
Silence.
Then—
A figure detached itself from the darkness.
Tall. Straight-backed. Moving with the calm confidence of someone who belonged anywhere he walked.
Woojin.
Except his face wasn't its usual unreadable mask. Tonight… he looked furious.
His eyes swept the courtyard, scanning every shadow before settling directly on her pillar.
"Hana," he said quietly. "Come out."
Her breath caught.
He shouldn't know she was there.
But he did.
She stepped out slowly, keeping her posture neutral. "It's late for a scholar to wander the palace, isn't it?"
"It's later for a court lady who lies to me."
The words hit harder than she expected.
Hana offered a cold smile. "I don't recall owing you the truth."
"Perhaps not." He took a step closer. "But when you vanish after an attack and sneak back into a restricted courtyard covered in danger—yes, you owe me something."
She stiffened. "I didn't ask for your concern."
"Too bad," Woojin said. "You have it."
Her heartbeat slipped.
For a moment, the world felt oddly still.
But she pushed the weakness away. "What are you doing here, Woojin?"
He exhaled sharply. "Looking for you."
Her stomach tightened.
Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist—not painfully, just enough to keep her from stepping away. "Why did you run from the infirmary?"
She pulled her hand free. "I wasn't going to lie there helpless like prey."
His eyes darkened. "You think I would let anything happen to you?"
"You won't always be there," she said quietly.
He stared at her, jaw tightening as if he hated the truth in her words.
Before he could answer, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the east gate.
Both of them snapped into alertness.
Woojin moved first, pulling her behind a column. "Stay behind me."
She almost laughed. "I don't hide."
"You do tonight," he insisted.
Three palace guards approached, carrying lanterns. Their armor glinted under the moonlight as they searched the courtyard with narrowed eyes.
"Still no sign of the woman?" one guard whispered.
"She couldn't have gotten far," another replied. "Master Kim wants her found before the morning council."
Hana felt Woojin stiffen beside her.
Master Kim.
The minister who hated Woojin.
The same minister rumored to have connections with the Black Parade.
Woojin leaned closer, his voice barely audible. "They're looking for you."
She lifted an eyebrow. "So it seems."
"What did you find here?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Finally she whispered, "Nari's death was staged. She didn't fall. She was killed. And someone cleaned the scene to hide it."
His face turned cold. "Explain."
She told him in short, sharp sentences—the shifted stone, the blood that had been washed but not scrubbed deep enough, the signs of strangling rather than falling.
By the time she finished, Woojin looked like carved ice.
"That's why they're patrolling," he murmured. "Master Kim wants to find something before the truth does."
"Or silence someone who might reveal it."
His gaze snapped back to her. "You're that someone?"
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Woojin swore under his breath. "You should not be here alone."
"Yet I am."
His eyes flashed in frustration—but also something else. Something like fear.
"Hana," he said softly, "this is no longer about just you."
Her breath hitched.
"What do you mean?"
Woojin hesitated—something he never did—before finally admitting:
"You are now tied to me."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"If they discover that I helped you escape the courtyard," he said, "or that I hid your identity at the academy, or that you were in my family's estate the night you arrived…"
He stepped closer, until she could see the faint reflection of the moon in his eyes.
"…they will expose us both."
The courtyard seemed to shrink around them.
She forced herself to stay calm. "And why did you help me in the first place, Woojin? Scholars aren't known for generosity."
His voice dropped. "Because I knew you were in danger. And because—"
He stopped.
She almost leaned in. "Because what?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, his hand brushed hers—accidental, maybe. But the spark it sent up her arm was undeniable.
They stared at each other.
Breathless.
Tense.
Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him in the cold night air.
Then—
A whistling sound sliced through the darkness.
Woojin reacted first.
He grabbed her waist and pulled her down just as a poisoned dart struck the stone pillar behind them with a sharp tink.
Hana rolled with him, hitting the ground and springing instantly to her feet, another dagger already in her hand.
Woojin grabbed the dart, sniffed it, and cursed again. "Black Parade poison. Fast-acting."
The shadows rustled.
Hana saw movement—three masked figures watching from the rooftop.
Her pulse spiked.
So it begins.
"Woojin," she said, "get back."
He didn't move. "I'm not leaving you."
"You can't fight assassins," she hissed.
"Watch me."
Another dart shot down.
Hana threw her dagger.
It hit one of the masked assassins directly in the shoulder.
He staggered.
"Run!" Hana shouted.
But Woojin didn't run.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind a garden wall just as two assassins leaped down with deadly grace.
"They're after you," Woojin said breathlessly. "You know them."
She didn't deny it.
The Black Parade never left loose threads.
And she had become the biggest loose thread of all.
One assassin sprinted toward their hiding place.
Hana grabbed Woojin's sleeve. "When I move, go left. Don't hesitate."
"And let you fight alone?" he demanded.
"Yes."
"No."
She glared at him. "Woojin—"
His voice turned sharp, urgent. "Hana, I am not watching you die."
Then—before she could react—he stepped in front of her.
Her heart stalled.
But she saw it then.
The fear in his eyes wasn't for himself.
It was for her.
The assassin lunged.
Hana shoved Woojin aside, twisted her body, and met the attacker head-on. Their blades clashed with a clang that echoed through the courtyard. She spun low, sweeping the man's legs—but he was trained, flipping backward and landing perfectly.
"Stay behind me," she growled at Woojin.
"You stay behind me!"
"This is not a debate!"
A second assassin came at them from behind. Woojin grabbed a fallen guard's spear lying nearby and parried the strike. His form was surprisingly good—precise and controlled. Not a warrior, but trained enough.
"Where did you learn that?" she demanded.
He gritted his teeth. "Private tutors. My father wanted me to survive politics."
The first assassin lunged again.
Hana blocked the strike, twisted his wrist, and slammed her elbow into his throat. He collapsed, choking.
The second assassin backed away, reassessing.
The rooftop figure whistled sharply.
A signal.
A retreat.
Hana's eyes narrowed as the assassins vanished into darkness as quickly as they'd arrived.
Woojin lowered the spear slowly, breathing hard. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Good." His voice shook slightly. "Because I nearly—"
He stopped himself.
Hana stepped closer, suddenly aware of how close they were, how little space separated them.
"Woojin…"
He reached out without thinking—his hand hovering near her cheek, not quite touching.
"You can't keep doing this alone," he whispered. "You can't keep bleeding for secrets you won't share."
Her throat tightened. "I don't have a choice."
"You do," he said. "You have me."
For a moment, the world tilted.
Hana swallowed hard. "If you stay near me, you'll die."
"Then let me die beside you," he murmured, voice raw. "Not behind you."
The confession hit her like a blade—soft but cutting straight to the heart.
Before she could respond, shouts erupted in the distance.
Guards.
Lanterns.
Voices calling Woojin's name.
He stepped back instantly, expression shifting into cold scholar mode. "If they find us together, we'll have no explanation."
She nodded.
He looked like he wanted to say more—but he didn't.
"Hana," he said quietly, "meet me tomorrow. By the library bridge. Dawn."
She hesitated.
But finally, she whispered:
"…I'll come."
He held her gaze one last moment before turning and walking into the light, greeting the guards with calm authority as if nothing had happened.
Hana melted into the shadows, slipping away unseen.
But her hands trembling just slightly.
Not from fear.
From something far more dangerous.
Woojin.