The wind pressed against the forest like a whispering wall, carrying the scent of pine, moist soil, and danger. Hana tightened her cloak as she walked beside Woojin along the narrow rocky path leading to the abandoned mountain shrine. Their breaths appeared faint in the cold evening air, clouds brushing the fading glow of the setting sun.
"The Shadow Sect wouldn't pick this place unless they were hiding something important," Woojin murmured, eyes sweeping ahead, trained and sharp.
Hana nodded. "Or someone."
They both knew the truth neither wanted to say aloud:
Jihoon was mixed up in something far darker than he had let on.
And if the cryptic map they stole from the traitorous envoy was real, then tonight might be their only chance to uncover what Jihoon had been risking his life for.
A twig snapped behind them.
Woojin reacted instantly—his arm swept Hana behind him, and a blade flashed in his hand before she even inhaled. But the forest remained still. No movement. No threat.
Woojin eased slightly but didn't sheath the dagger.
"You're tense," Hana said softly.
"You're in danger," he replied, voice low and steady.
Her cheeks warmed. She looked away. Even now, even after everything—after the shared risks, the arguments, the laughter, the quiet moments that frightened her more than any blade—Woojin could still unsettle her with a single sentence.
He started forward, steps silent on the uneven stones. "We move quickly. The longer we stay exposed, the more likely they'll sense us."
Hana followed, every sound amplified in her ears: the rustle of the trees, the chirping cicadas fading with the sun, her own heartbeat.
They reached the shrine just as the sky darkened into ink. The old wooden structure sat half-collapsed, vines choking the pillars, roof sagging under years of neglect. But a faint flicker glowed from within—a lantern, freshly lit.
Woojin motioned for silence, then leaned close to whisper against her ear, "Stay behind me. If something goes wrong, you run, understand?"
"No," Hana whispered firmly. "If something goes wrong, we run together."
His jaw clenched—not with annoyance, but with something dangerously close to fear for her.
He nodded once.
They moved.
Woojin slipped into the shrine first, blade ready. Hana followed close behind. The single lantern sat on the floor beside a set of dusty prayer beads, casting long shadows across the decaying walls.
Then Hana saw it.
"Woojin… look."
A symbol—harshly carved into the central pillar—marked with dark, dried ink.
The sigil of the Shadow Sect.
Woojin's expression hardened. "They were here recently."
Footsteps echoed outside.
Not one pair. Several.
Hana's hand flew to her mouth. Woojin grabbed her wrist gently, pulling her back into a deeper shadow.
"It's a search patrol," he murmured. "They tracked us."
"How?"
"They must've found the envoy's body."
Hana swallowed hard. "What do we do?"
Woojin scanned the shrine. "We have two choices: Hide and wait until they enter… or attack and break through the perimeter before they tighten it."
"Which is better?"
"Neither," he muttered. "But hiding puts you at greater risk."
Hana steadied her breath. "Then we move."
Their eyes met in the dim lantern light.
In that instant, Woojin made a choice—not as an assassin trained to kill, not as a man who had sworn to sever all attachments, but as someone who could no longer deny the bond forming between them.
He reached for her hand.
"You stay right beside me," he whispered.
Her heart jolted at the sincerity burning in his voice. She squeezed his hand once—silent, resolute.
He squeezed back.
Then they moved as one.
Woojin kicked the lantern, plunging the shrine into darkness. Hana didn't even gasp—she trusted him completely. The shadows swallowed them as the footsteps reached the doorway.
Three figures entered, masked in black. Their blades glinted even in the minimal moonlight peeking through the collapsing roof.
"Search everything," one hissed.
"They can't be far."
Woojin's grip tightened around Hana's hand. He leaned close, whispering against her ear, "On my mark."
Another figure approached the lantern, picking it up to relight it.
Woojin's voice barely brushed the air.
"Now."
He moved like wind—swift, silent, lethal.
Hana ducked as Woojin's dagger flashed, striking the lantern-bearer across the wrist. The man cried out, dropping the lantern. Darkness again.
The other two spun, weapons lifting.
Hana grabbed Woojin's spare blade—exactly as he'd taught her. She didn't freeze. She didn't hesitate.
She slashed at the closest attacker, her blade grazing his arm. He yelped and stumbled back.
Woojin finished the movement, sweeping low and taking the man's legs out from beneath him. The masked figure crashed to the floor.
"Hana!" he barked.
She turned just in time to block the third attacker's blade, sparks flying. The impact jarred her fingers, but she didn't retreat. She pushed back, using her whole body—
Woojin caught the attacker from behind and drove him into the ground with brutal precision.
The shrine fell silent again, save for Hana's rapid breaths.
Woojin grabbed her shoulders, eyes burning with worry. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she whispered, shaking but standing firm. "I told you. I can fight."
He exhaled slowly.
Not in relief—but in awe.
"You're stronger than you think," he said, voice trembling just slightly.
Before Hana could respond, a faint signal whistle echoed through the forest.
Woojin froze.
"That means reinforcements."
Hana's heart dropped. "How many?"
"Too many."
He grabbed her hand again. "Run. This way."
They bolted through the back of the shrine, slipping between broken walls and into the thick underbrush. Woojin led her through a narrow deer trail, moving with speed and precision—but never too far from Hana's side. Every few seconds he looked back to make sure she kept up.
Branches whipped at them as they ran, breaths colliding with cold air, footsteps pounding the earth. Voices behind them multiplied. Torches flickered between the trees.
Hana stumbled over a root. Woojin caught her mid-fall, pulling her upright with strong hands. Their faces nearly collided.
"You okay?" he panted.
"Yes."
He didn't let go for a moment longer than necessary. His thumb brushed her wrist before he released her.
Then—
Behind them, a torch crashed, flames scattering.
"They're closer," Woojin breathed.
Hana's pulse spiked. "Woojin—if they catch us—"
"They won't," he said fiercely. "Because I will not let anything take you from me."
Her breath caught.
There was no time to respond.
He pulled her by the waist as they veered sharply toward a hidden rock crevice, just wide enough to slip through. Hana squeezed inside, feeling the cold stone against her back. Woojin entered right after, blocking the path with his body.
Just as torches passed by the trail they'd been running on seconds earlier.
Hana held her breath.
Woojin pressed close—not out of desire, but necessity. But the tension between them was undeniable—warm breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync, the heat of his chest brushing her cloak.
She whispered, "Thank you… for not leaving me."
Woojin leaned his forehead briefly against hers.
"I couldn't," he whispered. "I won't."
The torches grew distant.
The forest quieted.
Woojin finally exhaled. "We wait a little longer. Then we return to the capital. Jihoon was right… something is coming. And it's far bigger than we thought."
Hana nodded.
And for the first time, Woojin laced their fingers together without hesitation.
Not for protection.
Not for strategy.
But because he wanted to.