Ji-hwan was not going to let Seong-min set the pace for this game.
His heart continued to pound from the king's whispered phrases, but he made himself take a breath, think, move.
Slowly, he tilted his head—closing the space Seong-min had invaded instead of shrinking from it.
A challenge.
Seong-min's smirk faltered for the briefest moment.
Ji-hwan smiled. "Your Majesty seems… very curious about me."
Seong-min recovered quickly. "Should I not be?"
Ji-hwan let his gaze flicker to the king's hand still lightly touching his hair. Then—deliberately, gracefully—he reached up and brushed his own fingers against Seong-min's wrist.
A gentle touch. A reminder that power was not one-sided.
Seong-min's breath caught.
Ji-hwan's smile grew. "Perhaps it is Your Majesty that remembers me, and not the other way around."
Silence. Tension fizzed in the cold night air.
Then—low, soft laughter.
Seong-min stepped back, laughing. "You really are something, Lord Yoon."
Ji-hwan smoothed his robes. "I shall take that as a compliment."
Seong-min regarded him, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. Then he looked at the garden doors, which were locked, and ordered the guards to open them.
Ji-hwan let out a soft sigh as he stepped around the king. A battle won—but not the war by any means.
Behind him, Seong-min's voice called out languidly.
"Enjoy your victory tonight."
Ji-hwan didn't need to turn around to know that Seong-min was already planning his next step.