Night in Bulgul was soft and quiet—gentle winds brushing lanterns, distant laughter from palace servants, the low hum of the city preparing for sleep.
But Kwan moved through the darkness like someone born in it.
He waited until the palace guards changed shifts, until the torches dimmed in the lower halls, until Yoongi retired to her chambers. Then he slipped out through a hidden servant passageway he had mapped in his mind the same day he arrived.
He walked with purpose.
He knew exactly where to go.
A small abandoned storage hut sat just beyond the palace wall. No guards checked it. No servants visited it. Perfect.
Inside, he kneeled and unwrapped a small lacquered box, revealing tightly rolled sheets of paper—coded, invisible ink that only revealed itself over heat.
He wrote with fluid, precise strokes:
---
Report 01 — To the King of Hanji
The new king is a child.
Quiet. Observant. Intelligent, but hesitant.
He is clearly inexperienced and emotionally vulnerable.
The kingdom mourns; morale is weak.
He is surrounded by six young warriors who are fiercely loyal.
They may become obstacles.
Kwan paused.
He thought of Yoongi's eyes—the loneliness in them, the way they softened when she trusted someone, the way she seemed to carry the sky on her shoulders.
Then he continued:
The king sneaks out alone at night.
No guards.
No witnesses.
Very easy to kill.
He sealed the scroll.
Another step in a mission he had accepted long before he ever met her.
---
The Growing Trust
At sunrise, Kwan returned as quietly as he had left, blending into the palace like mist.
Yoongi was already in the training yard, sweat glistening on her brow as she sparred with Min. She didn't see Kwan watching her—not with admiration, but calculation.
Min struck with his usual precision.
Yoongi deflected with a grunt, nearly thrown back.
"Again!" she demanded.
Min obeyed.
Kwan stepped forward, folding his arms.
"You push yourself too hard."
Yoongi turned, panting lightly.
"I cannot afford to be weak."
Kwan approached, handing her a cloth.
"Strength comes from pace. Not punishment."
Yoongi took the cloth reluctantly.
"Is that something your village taught you?"
Kwan smiled softly—false, practiced.
"No. Just something I've learned watching you."
Yoongi's chest tightened slightly.
Was that… a compliment?
Hoseok noticed the exchange and grinned.
"Yoongi, you're finally making friends!"
Yoongi flushed with embarrassment.
"I have always had friends."
"Not ones you actually talk to," Jin teased dramatically.
Yoongi tossed the cloth at Jin's face.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone except Kwan.
He watched them carefully, memorizing dynamics, studying bonds, calculating who would die first if war came.
---
Bonds of Fire and Thread
That afternoon, the Seven gathered in Yoongi's private training hall. Joon explained a new formation technique, Tae and Jung practiced stances, and Jin argued loudly with Min over whose sword was sharper.
Hoseok leaned toward Yoongi.
"They really love you," he said gently.
Yoongi blinked, startled by the words.
Love?
Directed toward her?
She watched them again—Tae hugging Jung after a successful move, Jin slapping Joon's back, Min sighing at the chaos.
And something inside her chest softened.
Maybe… she wasn't alone anymore.
Across the room, Kwan tightened his jaw.
He didn't like how Yoongi's eyes brightened around them.
He didn't like how her heart opened.
He didn't like how they protected her.
Love made people harder to kill.
He would have to remember that.
---
The River Meeting — Now a Habit
Yoongi visited the river again that evening.
Something about its quiet flow soothed her thoughts.
Kwan appeared moments later—
not by coincidence,
not by chance.
"Do you come here every night?" he asked.
Yoongi looked up at him, surprised.
"…Sometimes."
"You shouldn't be alone here," he murmured.
"You keep saying that," she replied.
"Because it's true."
Kwan sat beside her, gaze on the water.
"You carry too much."
Yoongi's voice softened.
"So do you."
Kwan's heart did not falter.
It did not flutter.
It remained a still, cold pool.
But he smiled anyway, because Yoongi believed it.
"I hope," he said gently, "I can ease your burden."
Yoongi looked away, cheeks warming slightly.
"Maybe."
Kwan studied her profile—the innocence, the quiet strength, the grief still carved into her bones.
She was soft.
She was human.
She was breakable.
Perfect.
---
The Second Report
Later that night, Kwan wrote another message.
Report 02 — To the King of Hanji
The king trusts me.
He meets me alone.
He seeks companionship.
He is attached.
Kwan hesitated for the first time in his mission.
Then he added:
He will not see betrayal coming.
He sealed the scroll.
He didn't know why it bothered him as much as it did.
Because it did bother him—
the smallest sting in the back of his mind.
But he ignored it.
He had a mission.
A purpose.
A destiny.
Yoongi was not a person to him.
She was a target.
And soon, he would strike.