Ji-hwan had played his hand carefully, but Seong-min was a man not to be outmaneuvered so easily.
The king whirled the wine in his cup, his eyes on Ji-hwan with the still quiet of a predator sizing up its prey.
"Tell me something, Ji-hwan." His tone was smooth, untruthfully light. "Do you regret it?"
Ji-hwan froze.
Regret.
The word hung between them, heavy with meanings unsaid.
Ji-hwan's hold on his cup never wavered, but his pulse did. "I am not sure that I comprehend Your Majesty's question."
Seong-min smiled. "Oh? I believe you do." He leaned forward a little, his dark eyes holding onto Ji-hwan's. "Do you regret being on the wrong side, in another existence?"
Ji-hwan gasped.
Seong-min was recalling. Not mere familiarity—not mere suspicion—but actual pieces of the past.
Ji-hwan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to breathe, to keep his face unreadable. "Your Majesty speaks as if we have lived before."
Seong-min smiled. "Perhaps we have." He looked at Ji-hwan, as if expecting a reaction. "Or perhaps you are just too good at keeping secrets, Lord Yoon."
Ji-hwan kept his eyes locked on Seong-min's, his mind whirling. If Seong-min was remembering, then the game had become a lot more perilous.
He could not lose control now.
Gradually, Ji-hwan put down his cup and looked Seong-min straight in the eye with calm confidence.
"If I had anything to regret, Your Majesty," he replied calmly, "it would be not having played my part better."
Seong-min's sneer spread, a spark of something sinister in his eyes.
Ji-hwan had dodged, but he hadn't denied.
And Seong-min wasn't going to let that pass either.
The chase had truly begun.