As dusk descended upon the capital, the festival procession surged through the great gates of the palace.
Kang-dae and his soldiers moved with steady confidence, blending seamlessly into the tide of musicians, dancers, and laborers flooding the outer courtyards. Hidden behind their masks and dressed in the ceremonial garments Haneul had painstakingly sewn, they passed unnoticed among the thousands gathered for the Sandaenori.
What neither of them realized was that Lord Min had prepared a surprise of his own.
One that would arrive when they least expected it.
As Kang-dae crossed the palace grounds beneath the weight of his disguise, his eyes drifted toward the familiar stone structures and royal banners.
A wave of nostalgia struck him.
Memories of training fields.
Of relentless discipline.
Of the years he had sacrificed in pursuit of honor as he forged himself into the kingdom's Bujang.
For a brief moment, the palace felt almost familiar again.
Then everything changed.
Someone collided with him.
Hard enough to force both men sideways.
The stranger was dressed entirely in white, his face concealed beneath a cloth covering.
For a single, fleeting second—
Their eyes met.
Kang-dae froze.
Something about that gaze felt disturbingly familiar.
The shape of the eyes.
The unwavering stillness behind them.
The coldness.
A chill crawled down his spine.
Where have I seen those eyes before?
The stranger immediately offered a short bow of apology and continued on his way without speaking.
Within moments, he vanished into the crowd.
Yet Kang-dae remained rooted to the spot.
The distant drums of the Sandaenori began echoing through the palace grounds.
Still, he could think of nothing except those eyes.
Where have I seen them?
He searched his memory.
Forced himself to remember.
And then—
Like lightning splitting the darkness—
The most bitter memory of his life came crashing back.
Blood.
Pain.
The taste of iron.
The moment a sword pierced his chest.
The moment he had been abandoned to die.
The soldier with the blue scarf.
Those were his eyes.
The eyes of his executioner.
Kang-dae's expression darkened.
His teeth clenched.
A silent fury ignited within him.
He stared in the direction the man in white had disappeared.
"Could it really be him?" he muttered.
His voice dripped with hatred.
"What is he doing here?"
Forgetting the careful movements expected of the dancers, Kang-dae immediately turned and pushed through the crowd.
Spotting his soldier among the musicians, he gave a sharp military signal.
Follow me.
Now.
Both men broke away from the festival and hurried through the palace's secondary corridors.
Their pace quickened as they approached the rear courtyard.
The very place where the hidden passage connecting directly to the King's chambers emerged.
Then they saw it.
A heavy transport wagon drawn by two horses.
Large bundles of laundry were piled high in the back.
Two men guarded it.
One held the reins.
The man with the blue scarf.
Kang-dae's instincts connected the pieces instantly.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
In Joseon, royal laundry was handled exclusively by public slaves and low-ranking servants.
No military officer.
No trusted agent of Lord Min.
Would ever disguise himself as a common laborer merely to escort dirty clothes.
This was no laundry delivery.
It was smuggling.
Adrenaline hardened Kang-dae's features.
He turned toward his subordinate.
"Get the horses."
His voice cut through the air like a blade.
"We stop them before they reach the city gates."
But Kang-dae did not wait.
The moment the wagon began moving, he sprinted after it.
The air burned his lungs.
His muscles screamed.
Still, he ran.
Then the ground began to shake beneath him.
Hoofbeats thundered from behind.
His soldier appeared at full speed, leading Kang-dae's horse by the reins.
Without slowing, Kang-dae leapt.
His hand caught the saddle.
A powerful pull launched him upward.
Moments later, he landed cleanly atop the horse and seized the reins without losing momentum.
The chase had begun.
Inside the wagon, the assassin's accomplice glanced back.
Panic instantly flooded his face.
"They're gaining on us!"
The blue-scarfed soldier cursed under his breath.
Then he lashed the horses mercilessly.
The animals surged forward.
The wagon lurched violently.
Its wheels bounced over roots and stones.
For several terrifying moments, it looked as though the entire cart might overturn.
They were moving far too fast.
Every jolt sent bundles flying from the wagon.
One after another.
Then—
A heavy bundle tumbled free.
The wrapping burst open.
Sheets were scattered across the road.
And from within emerged the bare feet of an unconscious man.
The King.
Kang-dae and his soldier exchanged a glance.
No words were necessary.
Everything had changed.
There was no longer time to follow.
They had to stop the wagon.
Immediately.
"Cut them off!" Kang-dae roared.
Both riders drove their horses forward.
The animals exploded into motion.
Branches whipped across their faces as they plunged through the forest.
Neither slowed.
Neither hesitated.
This had become a race against death itself.
Forcing their mounts to the limit, they descended diagonally across the hillside, racing toward a point ahead of the fleeing wagon.
Ready to intercept it.
Ready to collide with it.
Ready to stop it by force.