Ji-hwan discovered the letter behind a loose brick in the outer watchtower.
The falcon that had delivered it was one trained in the royal aviary—Seong-min's private signal. Nobody else would recognize the marks.
He spread the parchment carefully out. No signature. Only a line:
"Do not trust the general. Watch the east wall."
Ji-hwan's breath stopped.
Ban?
No. It couldn't be. Seok-woo was too proud. He wouldn't scheme rebellion—but someone under him might.
Ji-hwan paced the next day around the fortress like a ghost.
He stood near the eastern wall, chatting with soldiers, committing their routines to memory.
That evening, shortly after moonrise, he discovered the solution.
A lieutenant—youthful, reserved, and too tidy for a border guard—crept out through a secret gate near the east wall, carrying a sealed scroll.
Ji-hwan trailed him into the woods, sword in hand but footsteps quiet.
He did not attack until he witnessed the man pass the scroll to a rider wearing foreign armor.
When Ji-hwan came out, both men were on the ground—one was wounded, the other was dead.
He destroyed the scroll before he even read it. It was safer that way.
But when he came back, Ban Seok-woo was waiting for him.
"You were quick," Ban said.
"So did the traitor," Ji-hwan answered.
Ban looked at him. "You didn't even hesitate."
"No," Ji-hwan said. "Not when it's for him."
Ban said nothing.
And then—for the first time—he nodded. Once.
"You're not the same man I hated," he said.
Ji-hwan didn't smile. "I still hate the one I used to be."