Hana woke up before dawn, her senses already sharpened. The weight of the previous night still pressed on her chest—Woojin's confession, the warmth in his eyes, and the lingering shock of learning the truth about the Shadow Brand's new movements.
The world was shifting beneath her feet.
And she needed to move faster.
The soft rustle of robes brushed her ears. Woojin was already awake, sitting near the window with a scroll unrolled on his lap. His hair was tied loosely, a few strands falling over his forehead in a way that felt… unfairly distracting.
"You didn't sleep," Hana said.
He didn't look away from the scroll. "I could say the same about you."
"Mine is a habit. Yours is a problem."
That made him finally glance at her, the corner of his mouth lifting—just a little. "Then I suppose we are both problems."
Hana rolled her eyes. But the truth was, she was grateful he was still beside her. The night had ended with too many questions, and she needed someone grounded to keep her from spiraling.
Woojin placed the scroll down. "Hana. About last night—"
"Don't," she cut in. "Not yet."
He blinked, surprised. "Are you… rejecting me?"
"No." She swallowed. "But I can't afford to think like that when the Shadow Brand is moving. Not when danger is this close."
Woojin stood and crossed the room in a few steps. He stopped inches from her, lowering his voice. "There will always be danger. With you, that is unavoidable. But my feelings won't disappear just because you pretend they don't exist."
Her heartbeat stuttered.
He was too close. Too earnest. Too sincere.
"I'm not pretending," she whispered. "I'm choosing what keeps you alive."
He held her gaze for a long moment—then stepped back, accepting it without argument.
That hurt her more than she expected.
---
THE MISSION BEGINS
They left before sunrise, slipping through the academy courtyard unseen. Seori had provided them a discreet route, one that bypassed the morning patrols.
Their destination was a remote hideout in the lower mountain forest, a location Hana recognized instantly.
The Shadow Brand had used it years ago.
"Hana," Woojin said quietly as they walked, "you recognized the map Seori showed us. What's there?"
"A staging point," she replied. "A place where lower-ranked assassins rest before being sent to mission zones."
"And now?"
"Now it's where they're gathering to prepare for something big. Something… coordinated."
He frowned. "That doesn't sound like the Shadow Brand's usual chaos."
"It isn't." Hana's jaw tightened. "That's what scares me."
Woojin didn't push further. He only fell into step beside her, matching her pace without complaint.
But Hana knew he was afraid—afraid for her, for what they were walking toward, for what it might reveal about her past.
Maybe she was afraid, too.
---
IN THE FOREST
Hours later, the forest grew denser. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled overhead. A fox darted across their path.
Hana paused suddenly and raised a hand.
Woojin froze.
There—
A faint tremor in the bush fifty paces ahead.
Footsteps. Light, quick. Trained.
She placed a hand on her blade, slipping effortlessly into assassin instinct.
"Three of them," she whispered. "Low-ranked. They're trying to flank."
"Should we retreat?"
"No. If they see us run, they'll alert the mountain post. We deal with them quietly."
She moved before he could object, vanishing into the brush with lethal grace.
Woojin waited, tense, gripping the dagger she'd given him. His eyes scanned the shadows, every muscle coiled as he listened—
A muffled grunt.
A quick thud.
A sharp exhale.
Silence.
Hana returned seconds later, brushing leaves from her shoulder.
"It's done."
Woojin swallowed. "I didn't even hear you move."
"That's the point."
She motioned for him to follow. "We're close now. Try not to step on dry branches."
He nodded, embarrassed. "I'm a scholar, not a forest spirit."
"Then move like one anyway," she said, though her voice carried a teasing lilt.
---
THE HIDEOUT
The hideout emerged through the trees—an old stone structure carved into the hillside, half-hidden beneath vines. Lanterns flickered faintly around the entrance. Shadows shifted inside.
Hana crouched behind a fallen log, Woojin beside her.
There were more guards than she expected.
"They've doubled their numbers," she muttered.
Woojin counted at least fifteen visible figures. "This isn't a staging point," he murmured. "This looks like… preparation for war."
Hana felt the same dread curling in her stomach.
If the Shadow Brand was gathering this many assassins in one place, something monumental was brewing—something that would shake the empire.
She needed to get inside.
"I can infiltrate through the east side," she whispered. "There's a ventilation gap. From there I can figure out what they're planning."
"And me?"
"You stay here."
"No." His refusal was instant. "Hana, that's too dangerous alone."
"It's always been dangerous. And I've always done it alone."
Woojin shook his head, jaw set. "Not anymore."
She exhaled sharply. "Woojin—"
"Let me finish." He met her eyes with a rare intensity. "I won't fight you. I know infiltration isn't my strength. But I won't sit uselessly while you risk everything. Tell me what to do."
Her chest tightened.
He wasn't demanding to go with her.
He was asking how to help.
She could work with that.
"Fine," she said. "There's a ridge near the west slope. It overlooks the inner courtyard. Go there and find a vantage point. If something goes wrong, use this—" She handed him a signal charm. "Crush it. I'll come to you."
Woojin held the small glass bead tightly. "And you'll do the same if you need help."
"Woojin—"
"Promise me."
Hana closed her eyes. "I promise."
He nodded, relief softening his expression. "Good. Then we move."
---
THE INFILTRATION
Hana slipped from shadow to shadow, her movements silent as moonlight. She scaled the stone wall, squeezed through the ventilation gap, and dropped into the hideout.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and whispers.
Footsteps echoed. Assassins in black uniforms passed corridors, murmuring about deployment times, targets, and something called "The Nightfall Directive."
The term twisted something in Hana's chest.
Nightfall.
A codename she had heard only once—from the Shadow Brand Leader himself.
She quickened her steps, following the flow of voices toward a back chamber.
What she saw froze her.
Maps spread across tables.
Names written in red ink.
Cities circled—trade hubs, political centers, military ports.
And at the center—
A banner with an emblem she hadn't seen in years.
Her old division.
Her old squad.
Her old life.
"Hana."
She spun, blade in hand—
Her brother stepped from the shadows.
Older. Colder. Wearing the Shadow Brand crest she once bore with pride.
"You finally came home," he said softly, a dangerous smile forming. "Father will be pleased."
Her blood turned to ice.
Father.
The Shadow Brand Leader.
Her real father. The man who trained her to kill.
Hana's breath seized.
She had walked into a trap.