Seong-min spoke of the past no more.
He did not have to.
Ji-hwan was summoned the next morning—by royal order, not to court, but to the king's personal war chamber.
Three other people had access, none of whom were currently there.
Seong-min occupied the head of a very long table, parchment maps spread out before him like pieces of a game he'd long won.
"Lord Yoon," he replied without lifting his eyes. "Tell me. If you were me, and you knew one of your people had betrayed you once—would you permit them to serve you again?"
Ji-hwan did not blink. "I would ask why they came back."
"And if they had?"
"I would test them," Ji-hwan replied softly. "Make them demonstrate that they would bleed for me now, when they did not before."
Seong-min glanced up, something hard flashing in his eyes. "Good. Then bleed."
He slid a scroll across the table. Red-sealed. Unmarked.
"A mission," he said. "Off the books. Hazardous. Stealthy. I need someone I can trust."
Ji-hwan didn't flinch. "I'll go."
Seong-min stood, moved toward him, stopping just near enough that Ji-hwan could sense the warmth of him.
"Are you attempting to die for me again?" he asked quietly.
"No," Ji-hwan replied. "I'm trying to live right."
Their eyes locked—history crashing between them in a single breath.
Seong-min raised a hand. Ji-hwan tensed—but the king only brushed a thumb across his cheek.
"You've changed," he murmured.
Ji-hwan's voice barely rose above a whisper. "So have you."
Seong-min stepped back. "Then let's see if we've changed enough."