Seong-min did nothing for three days.
No teasing looks. No sudden caresses. No subtle comments.
Ji-hwan should have felt relieved. But he didn't. He felt uneasy.
Seong-min was waiting. Planning.
And on the fourth day, the king finally made his move.
It occurred during an evening walk in the palace gardens. Ji-hwan, called without warning, had hardly stepped a few feet before a gentle click sounded behind him.
The garden doors were locked.
Ji-hwan whirled abruptly. "Your Majesty?"
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Seong-min stood under the light of the lantern, arms folded. His smile was entirely too easy.
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"Strangely, isn't it?" Seong-min said. "How a man such as you—so smart, so cautious—can still march into my hands?"
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Ji-hwan's heart thumped. What was he planning?
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Seong-min leaned in, speaking softly. "Tell me, Ji-hwan… do you really not recall me?"
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Ji-hwan's gasp caught. What?
His mask almost slipped. Almost. But he compelled himself to breathe smoothly. "Your Majesty sounds as if we shared some great history."
Seong-min laughed. "Perhaps we have."
Then—he leaned out and brushed his fingers through Ji-hwan's hair.
Ji-hwan jerked back. Not from the touch, but from the very intimacy of it.
Seong-min smiled. "Hmm. Interesting."
Before Ji-hwan could move back, the king leaned in—not to kiss him, but to whisper against his ear.
"I'm looking forward to seeing how long you can maintain this act."
Ji-hwan Shivered. Seong-min was onto him.
And this time, he couldn't escape.