Haneul took two steps back.
The distance was small—but deliberate.
Jun-ho hadn't expected it.
The moment he noticed her retreat, realization struck him. His closeness had crossed a line. Without hesitation, he straightened and bowed deeply, forcing himself back into composure.
—"Forgive me," he said quietly.
—"I feared something had happened to you… and my days at the palace were far from pleasant."
Haneul didn't acknowledge the tension.
Instead, her questions came fast—urgent, almost desperate.
—"Did you see my father? Is he safe? Does Min know anything?"
Jun-ho let out a short, tired breath—almost a laugh—overwhelmed by the flood.
He lowered himself onto a nearby seat, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
—"Slow down, Haneul," he said gently.
—"I'll answer everything."
He looked at her, steady now.
—"I didn't speak with your father directly… but mine did. He's safe. You don't need to worry."
But as he continued, something in his expression shifted.
Darkened.
—"The situation in the palace…" he murmured, lowering his gaze,
—"…is far worse than I imagined."
Haneul stiffened.
—"What's happening?" she asked, her voice tightening.
—"What are you not telling me?"
Jun-ho hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
—"The King is dying," he said quietly.
—"And Min now holds absolute control."
A pause.
He couldn't meet her eyes anymore.
—"But…"
Haneul stepped closer.
—"But what?"
Her voice sharpened.
—"Jun-ho… what are you hiding from me?"
Silence.
Then—
—"I'm sorry, Haneul."
His voice dropped to almost nothing.
—"…but the Bujang is dead."
Everything stopped.
—"…what?" she whispered.
—"We tried to trap Min," Jun-ho continued, forcing the lie through his throat.
—"It failed. Kang-dae… died during the confrontation."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
Haneul lowered her head slowly, as if something inside her had just… collapsed.
For a long moment, she didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
Then she stood.
Rigid.
Controlled.
—"Excuse me," she said coldly.
—"I will return to my chambers."
She didn't look at him again.
Jun-ho watched her leave in silence.
And in that moment—
he understood.
Her heart had never been his to reach.
It had always belonged to someone else.
And now—
to a ghost.
Days passed.
The observatory became a place of routine, almost peaceful on the surface. Haneul and Jun-ho spent long hours together—studying charts, reviewing ancient records, sharing meals in quiet companionship.
To Jun-ho, those moments became both a gift and a torment.
He admired her.
Her mind.
Her presence.
The way she spoke.
The way she thought.
But Haneul…
was no longer the same.
Something inside her had gone dim long before—
and now, after his words,
whatever light remained…
was gone.
Meanwhile, in the palace—
power fractured.
Lord Yi gathered the last loyal officials in secret, forming quiet alliances beneath the surface of Min's growing control.
In hidden meetings, a decision was made:
The King had to be removed.
If he remained under Min's watch, he would not survive.
But they faced one impossible truth—
no one could carry out such a mission.
Because the only man capable of doing it…
was believed to be dead.
Far from the capital—
hidden deep within the mountains—
Kang-dae still lived.
Weak.
Wounded.
But alive.
Jin-soo never left his side.
He risked everything, slipping into nearby towns once or twice a month to gather food and medicinal herbs. Every trip could mean capture. Every return was uncertain.
Time passed slowly.
The fever broke.
The wounds began to close.
Kang-dae could stand again.
Eat again.
Train again.
But something inside him had changed.
He no longer spoke of that night.
Of the ambush.
Of the fallen men.
Between him and Jin-soo—
silence had settled like ash.
But in Kang-dae's mind—
one word burned.
Vengeance.
He saw it constantly.
The moment he would stand before Min again.
The moment he would end him.
He knew he would only get one chance.
And this time—
he would not fail.
Days became weeks.
Recovery turned into discipline.
Discipline into obsession.
Kang-dae pushed his body beyond its limits—training until his muscles gave out, until breath became pain, until weakness was no longer an option.
He was no longer preparing to survive.
He was preparing to return.
Back at the Han residence, something subtle shifted.
The rigid formality between Haneul and Jun-ho began to fade. They shared quiet evenings by the lotus pond, drinking tea beneath fading light.
To Jun-ho, those moments were unbearable in their beauty.
To Haneul…
they were hollow.
Her grief remained untouched.
But the sky—
the sky still belonged to her.
At night, under the silver glow of the moon, she found something close to peace. The stars remained constant—untouched by betrayal, untouched by loss.
And that—
was enough to keep her standing.
From the shadows of the corridor, Jun-ho often watched her.
Silent.
Still.
He understood then—
the stars were not something she admired.
They were something she belonged to.
And in that realization—
he found a strange kind of comfort.
Until the night everything changed.
A spy arrived.
Breathless.
Urgent.
—"We've seen him," the man reported.
—"The soldier who always accompanied the Bujang."
Jun-ho froze.
Then moved immediately.
Orders were given without hesitation.
—"Follow him," he commanded.
—"Do not lose him. Do not be seen."
Days later—
The report returned.
Precise.
Certain.
A hidden cabin.
Deep in the mountains.
Two men inside.
One wounded.
One recovering.
The description was unmistakable.
Jun-ho read the report once.
Then again.
Slower.
And this time—
he didn't breathe.
Because the dead man…
was no longer dead.
End of Chapter
The lie had already been spoken.The grief had already taken root.
And now— The truth was alive.
Hidden.
Waiting.
And when it surfaced, it wouldn't just break hearts.
It would ignite a war.