Ryang disappeared over the sand dunes, and Hongyoo muttered a curse under his breath.

  How come I miss the perfume?

  Have I grown complacent, my senses dulled by years of peace? It was a careless mistake, one he couldn't afford to repeat. The Myeonghyeon siblings knew too much, and the balance of power was shifting.

  Hongyoo entered the tent where Jang'gyeong Yoon was being held. Yoon, his face pale and drawn, looked up at him from the ground, his wrists bound to the tent poles. He hadn't been allowed to wash or move freely, and the stench of sweat and grime clung to him. Though his eyes fluttered with exhaustion, he couldn't allow himself to collapse. The thin needles embedded in his flesh were a constant reminder of Hongyoo's threats. One wrong move, and he could be permanently crippled.

  "Despite your shortcomings," Hongyoo remarked, "you have remarkable endurance. Few have lasted as long as you. I'm almost impressed."

  He knelt before Yoon, his fingers gently lifting Yoon's chin. Yoon winced as the needles embedded near his neck pressed deeper into his flesh.

  "Still not ready to talk?" Hongyoo asked.

  "There's nothing left to say," Yoon rasped, his voice hoarse. "I've told you everything I know."

  "You continue to evade my questions," Hongyoo countered. "Why does no one in that inn know you? Why weren't the siblings surprised to see you? Are you hiding something? Or am I simply being suspicious?"

  Yoon remained silent. Hongyoo sighed and began removing the needles, one by one. As the last needle was pulled free, Yoon's body slumped, his bound wrists the only thing keeping him upright. Hongyoo retrieved a small stool and sat facing him.

  Yoon took a deep breath, his forehead resting against the cool ground. He knew, from past experience, that Hongyoo would soon resume his torture. He savored this brief respite, this moment of peace. But Hongyoo, as always, was merciless. He retrieved a brazier filled with glowing coals and began heating the needles.

  "I prefer a more refined approach to torture," he mused, his gaze fixed on the glowing tips of the needles. "Burning flesh and breaking bones is so crude."

  "You bastard..." Yoon muttered under his breath.

  Hongyoo smiled. "There's another reason I prefer this method," he said. "Even if you die, there's little evidence left behind. It would be rather unsightly for you to succumb to such a messy end. And besides," he added, "your fear, your desperate struggle... it's quite entertaining."

  Hongyoo grasped Yoon's chin, lifting his face from the dirt. He pressed a heated needle against the soft skin beneath Yoon's jaw, the tip pricking the surface.

  "Shall I blind you?" he asked.

  A guttural sound escaped Yoon's throat. "Stop..." he pleaded.

  Hongyoo's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as he surveyed Yoon's terror. "You came here with one of two things in mind," he mused. "Either you overestimated your own cunning, or you underestimated ours."

  He didn't wait for a reply. The needle pierced Yoon's skin, sliding into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, the pain sending shockwaves through his body. Yoon's muffled screams echoed through the tent. Hongyoo's voice remained calm, his expression unchanged.

  "Tell me what I want to know," he commanded.

  Yoon, unable to bear the agonizing pain, cried out, "Stop! Please!"

  Hongyoo chuckled, stopping his ministrations. Tears of frustration and defeat welled up in Yoon's eyes. Hongyoo withdrew the needles, his smile twisting into a sneer. Yoon's heart sank. Have I misjudged the princess's intentions towards the Myeonghyeons? Have I been too naive, too confident in my own cunning? He imagined Ryang, somewhere out there, no doubt smirking at his misfortune.

  "Yoon," he rasped. "That's my real name."

  Despite his exhaustion, he spoke his name with defiance. Hongyoo scoffed.

  "So, Jang'gyeong Hahn fled to Birahng after all," he mused. "This island is a haven for the Scions scum."

  "Shut up," Yoon spat. "You're not worthy of speaking that name."

  Though it wasn't the information he had hoped for, Yoon's true identity intrigued Hongyoo.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "You claimed the Myeonghyeons still possess their ancestral sword," he said. "And what do you have to offer? If you want to earn the princess's favor, you'll need to provide some proof."

  Yoon, too weak to lift his head, glared at him. "I need no favors from you," he hissed. "I am a Jang'gyeong, with or without proof."

  "Still clinging to your pride, I see," Hongyoo chuckled. He straightened. "Why did you approach the princess and betray the Myeonghyeons?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "Did they wrong you somehow? They didn't seem surprised to see you, so it couldn't have been them who did this to your face..."

  He trailed off, his words cut short by a sudden gurgling sound. Yoon began to cough up blood, his mouth filling with a bloody froth. Hongyoo quickly grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

  "You idiot," he muttered, shoving a piece of cloth into Yoon's mouth to stem the bleeding. He glared at Yoon, his eyes filled with a cold fury.

  "Regain your strength before I return," he hissed. "If you lose your tongue, I'll make you write with your fingers. And if you fail then, I'll take your hand."

  Yoon, his eyes wide with terror, couldn’t even blink. Hongyoo summoned a healer and returned to his own tent, washing the blood from his hands and changing his clothes.

  Entering Kyeong'ui's tent, Hongyoo found her looking weary, but a bright smile still graced her lips.

  "Did you see him off?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of fatigue.

  Hongyoo, unable to reveal that Ryang had likely deduced the truth of their relationship, simply replied, "Yes, Your Highness. He has returned to the city.”

  Kyeong'ui was already in her nightclothes. “You're preparing for bed early, Your Highness," he remarked.

  "I'm rather tired today," Kyeong'ui replied.

  "Then I'll take my leave." Hongyoo masked his complicated emotions with a playful smile.

  "Hongyoo," Kyeong'ui called out.

  "Yes, Your Highness?"

  "Why do you think I desire the throne?"

  Hongyoo was taken aback by the unexpected question. "Surely you know your own desires best," he replied.

  "Humor me," Kyeong'ui insisted. "You've been by my side for years. You must have some insight."

  Hongyoo chuckled. "Why does it matter?" he asked. "What matters is that you are worthy."

  "Am I worthy?"

  "Of course, Your Highness. Without a doubt."

  Kyeong'ui's unusual behavior made Hongyoo suspicious. "Did Myeonghyeon Ryang say something to upset you?" he asked.

  "No. He didn't say anything." But her smile seemed strained, her eyes distant.

  "Would you like some tea?" Hongyoo offered.

  "Yes, please."

  Kyeong'ui picked up a book while Hongyoo prepared the tea. She barely drank half a cup before excusing herself and retiring to her bed. She fell asleep quickly, her sleep so deep that she didn't stir even when Hongyoo adjusted her blankets and dimmed the lamp.

  ──────────

  Myeonghyeon Seon greeted Ryang with an indifferent expression as he returned from his meeting with the princess. She was annoyed that he had once again insisted on going alone, leaving her behind. Ryang, wary of Seon's eagerness to gain the princess's favor, had been reluctant to bring her along. Seon, in turn, resented his distrust.

  "How did it go?" she asked as they entered his chambers.

  "We discussed the Azure Scripture," Ryang replied, "and then she challenged me to an archery match. She's quite skilled."

  "I'm glad it was archery," Seon remarked, a playful smirk on her lips. "You would have embarrassed yourself with a sword."

  Ryang's eyes narrowed, but he quickly masked his annoyance with a tired sigh. "I pity her," he admitted.

  "What?" Seon asked. "Why would you pity her? We're hardly in a position to pity anyone, let alone a princess."

  "She has no one on her side," Ryang explained. "I understand why she wants to bring us to Sunyahng."

  "What about her Royal Attendant?" Seon countered. "He seems quite loyal, despite his... questionable methods. And she has her betrothed. His family is quite influential."

  "Neither of them can be trusted," Ryang said, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. It's exhausting."

  Ryang's expression was troubled, and Seon watched him with a wary eye.

  "Seon," Ryang began, his voice hesitant, "what is our cause?"

  "What?" Seon retorted, her brow furrowed. "Why are you suddenly talking about our cause?"

  Ryang's gaze met hers. "Do you even know what our cause is?" he asked.

  "Why should we worry about that?" Seon countered. "It's the Guardian's responsibility to define our cause. Our role is to follow his lead."

  "But shouldn't we be guiding him?" Ryang argued.

  Seon scoffed. "That's arrogance. If we don't know what our cause is, it's not our fault. It's the Guardian's incompetence."

  "Be quiet," Ryang snapped. "That's exactly why I didn't want to bring you. If you weren't my sister, I would have expelled you long ago.."

  "And if you weren't my brother, I wouldn't be wasting my breath on you," Seon countered playfully.

  Silence fell between them. Ryang's thoughts drifted back to Hongyoo, to the familiar scent of his perfume. Though Hongyoo had always seemed loyal, Ryang couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their relationship than met the eye. Kyeong'ui, barely older than Seon, and Hongyoo, a man who must be at least thirty... the thought of them together made Ryang's stomach churn.

  What is Hongyoo's game? His Sungian heritage, the long needles, the ornate ring he occasionally glimpsed beneath his sleeve, the scent of Kyeong'ui's perfume... the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Ryang had planted the seed of doubt, and he knew Hongyoo wouldn't wait long to act.

  "Don't go to sleep tonight," he said to Seon. "We might have a visitor."