***

“Wouldn’t it be better not to go at all?”

Yul-hye quietly interjected, her voice calm yet laced with concern, as she watched Ah-shin take down the sword hanging on the wall.

“If I’m summoned and don’t go, what do you expect me to do? It’s an imperial decree.”

“You’re not the type to follow decrees.”

“You know me so well.”

“I know everything. Not just me—everyone knows. That’s why I can’t understand why you’re insisting on going, especially when you’ve already said it’s a trap.”

“They need to be taught a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

Yul-hye raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his choice of words.

“I may not have much to boast about, but there’s one thing I can claim, and that’s my filial piety. Believe it or not, I was a dutiful son.”

He paused. The words felt slightly awkward even as he spoke them aloud.

“My father left me one dying wish: never to stain my hands with my siblings’ blood.”

Yul-hye’s expression softened slightly, but then she frowned as he continued.

“So, I’ve made up my mind—I won’t spill their blood.”

“Then why are you taking a sword?”

Ah-shin’s smile turned sharp.

“Because as long as it’s not my siblings, it’s fair game to shed blood, isn’t it?”

Yul-hye’s eyes widened, visibly startled by his interpretation.

“How… how could you interpret it that way?”

“Simple. Mercy has its limits, Yul-hye.”

“As long as I don’t stain my hands with the blood of my siblings, I will not violate my father’s last wish. Instead, I’ll deal with the others around them. They’re the kind who only understand fear when they see blood. This is the perfect opportunity to teach them a lesson – so they won’t dare bother me with such nonsense again.”

“Mercy? Weren’t you planning to show mercy?”

“Ah, mercy, I intend to show it. Isn’t it an act of mercy to spare the emperor who dared plot my death, and my siblings who helped set the trap? And I let live the man who delivered the letter. Isn’t that mercy enough?”

His words were smooth, his tone almost amused, as though his twisted interpretation of mercy was perfectly reasonable. Yul-hye stared at him, both fascinated and disturbed by his unflinching logic.

“Maybe… a little more mercy wouldn’t hurt…”

“I’ll think about it on the way.”

Ah-shin interrupted, fastening the sword to his waist.

He looked at Yul-hye and gave her a playful smile.

“Who knows? If you wish me a safe journey, I might become a little more merciful. For your sake, of course.”

“Safe…”

Yul-hye trailed off and came closer. Standing on tiptoe, she planted a soft kiss on his chin.

It was the best she could do. The man was so tall that even on tiptoe her lips barely reached his chin.

“Have a safe journey.”

Yul-hye said quietly.

“Will you wait for me?”

“Where else would I go if not to wait for you?”

“Standing here like this, you really feel like mine.”

Ah-shin said, wrapping his hand around her waist.

“With someone waiting for me, I guess I’ll have to hurry back.”

Since when had this woman’s face become so beautiful? She had always caught his eye, but had she been this lovely from the beginning?

Ah-shin couldn’t remember the face she had when they first met. In truth, he couldn’t even recall the face she had yesterday. Each day, she showed him a new expression, and it was only that day’s expression that lingered in his memory.

‘Perhaps until I return, whenever I think of her, it will be this expression I recall.’

“I feel… ordinary, like any other husband.”

Ah-shin murmured, almost to himself.

The word ordinary was foreign to him. It didn’t suit him – he knew that very well. If he had been an ordinary man, would she have been his more easily?

He had never wanted to be ordinary, nor did he want to be now. Power, strength and fear had always been his companions, and he had never once longed for a simple life.

And yet, standing here in front of her, the idea of becoming a simple, ordinary man didn’t seem so bad.

But only to her.

“When I return, be here.”

Ah-shin whispered, pulling Yul-hye into an embrace so tight it felt as though he might crush her.

In that moment, Yul-hye caught something unexpected—a slight tremor in his voice, barely perceptible but undeniably there.

This man, leaving her behind, was uneasy. For the first time, she realised he was afraid. Not of the dangers that awaited him in the capital, not of the traps set by scheming nobles, not even of the wild tigers he hunted with ease. No, he was afraid of something much simpler and more human: losing her.

It unsettled her to see him like this. This man who had always seemed untouchable, immune to fear or discomfort, was now anxious about leaving her behind.

What was she supposed to make sense of it? Of him? The thought of him, so indomitable in the face of every other danger, feeling vulnerable over her was both startling and confusing. But as her heart softened, she realised that she could feel the weight of his emotions as clearly as she could feel the strength of his embrace.

Even harder to comprehend was the unease creeping into her own heart. Had his fear somehow seeped into her? It felt like it was crawling up her spine, wrapping around her like an invisible thread she couldn’t shake.

What exactly was she afraid of?

Was it the thought that something might happen to him while he was gone? Or was it the possibility that she might fail to wait for him?

For in truth, this was the perfect opportunity to run away. If she ever wanted to escape, this was her moment. Yet the very thought of leaving made her feel even more unsettled, as if her own heart were betraying her resolve.