Ji-hwan did not sit immediately.
He studied the single cup of wine, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the polished surface of the table.
Seong-min smirked. "What's wrong? Afraid I've poisoned it?"
Ji-hwan met his gaze evenly. "I was considering whether it would be rude to refuse."
Seong-min laughed, a rich, amused sound. "I would take it as a challenge rather than an insult."
Ji-hwan shrugged and sat down opposite him. It was safer to be the master of the game than the pawn. He raised the cup, sipped the wine slowly. The wine was warm, silky, touched with a subtle sweetness.
Seong-min observed him, filling his own cup.
"I wonder," Seong-min said, stirring the liquid in his cup, "if we had met in other times, would we still be like this?
Ji-hwan's fingers closed around his cup. Risky. Seong-min was probing him differently now—not with teasing caresses, but with words that asked for something true.
Ji-hwan put his cup down. "Your Majesty presumes that our destinies might have been altered."
Seong-min leaned forward a little. "And you presume they couldn't?"
Ji-hwan met his eyes. "What is destiny, if not a string of decisions?
Seong-min's smile grew, something dark and knowing dancing in his eyes. "Then tell me, Ji-hwan. If you had a choice, would you still stand before me?"
Ji-hwan's heart was racing. He knew.
Somehow, some way—Seong-min was remembering.
Ji-hwan took a slow breath. "I suppose that depends."
Seong-min raised a brow. "On what?"
Ji-hwan raised his cup again, smiling slightly.
"On whether Your Majesty would still be so set on catching me," he said.
Seong-min laughed, but his eyes grew hard.
The real game had just begun.