Ji-hwan had expected a test.
He had not expected this.
The private dining room was lit low, the air filled with the fragrance of warm spices. A low table had been set for two—a far too intimate setting for a mere secretary and his king.
Seong-min was already seated, signaling with his hand to the cushion across from him. "Sit."
Ji-hwan crept cautiously, each movement planned. He would not give Seong-min the opportunity to get the better of him.
The first course was delivered—steamed dumplings, their fragile skins sheened.
Ji-hwan's hand went for his chopsticks, but Seong-min spoke.
"Allow me."
Seong-min snatched a dumpling from the plate and held it up—straight to Ji-hwan's lips.
Ji-hwan's breath was caught.
The servants had been sent away. There were no onlookers. Seong-min was not acting for an audience.
A slow smile played on the king's lips. "Afraid?
Ji-hwan trained his face into a mask of serenity. If he declined, Seong-min would win. If he accepted, it would only make him more arrogant.
So Ji-hwan took the third option.
He leaned in—closer, close enough that Seong-min's fingers almost touched his lips—then, at the very last second, snatched the dumpling from Seong-min's chopsticks with his own.
Their eyes locked.
Ji-hwan smiled. "Your Majesty's generosity is overwhelming."
For the first time, Seong-min looked caught off guard.
Ji-hwan bit into the dumpling, savoring his small victory.
But Seong-min's gaze darkened.
This game was far from over.