Kang-dae was also wandering through the market that morning.
Accompanied by his most trusted soldier, he searched for food supplies and the final materials needed for the Sandaenori. Ever since the world declared him dead, blending into crowds in worn, unremarkable clothing had become second nature to him.
But fate was a cruel thing.
And sometimes—
It enjoyed watching men suffer.
Distracted for only a moment, Kang-dae collided directly with someone.
Coins flew from his hand, scattering across the stone streets.
Haneul staggered backward in surprise.
"Oh—I'm sorry!"
Without hesitation, she crouched down to help gather the fallen coins, completely unaware of the man standing before her.
Several steps away, Jun-ho froze.
The moment he recognized Kang-dae and the soldier beside him, the blood drained from his face.
One mistake.
That was all it would take.
One wrong glance… and every plan they had built would collapse.
So he remained perfectly still, trapped in suffocating silence.
Meanwhile, Haneul continued gathering the scattered coins, unaware of the storm unfolding around her. Loose strands of hair fell across her face as she reached for the last pieces near Kang-dae's feet.
And then—
Kang-dae truly looked at her.
Not as a stranger.
Not as a memory.
But as Haneul.
Alive.
So close he could hear her breathing.
The warrior's heart lurched violently inside his chest.
Oblivious to his turmoil, Haneul extended her hand to return the coins.
But as she did—
Her eyes caught sight of the massive scar exposed beneath the torn layers of his clothing.
The moment Kang-dae noticed her staring, he immediately pulled his robes closed with rough urgency.
Almost ashamed.
Almost fear.
Without a word, he snatched the coins from her hand and turned away.
Fast.
Too fast.
Before disappearing into the crowd, Kang-dae locked eyes with Jun-ho.
And in that single glance—
A deadly understanding passed between them.
The secret must survive.
At any cost.
Jun-ho reacted immediately.
He took Haneul's hand, helped her to her feet, and quickly guided her away before she could think too deeply about what had happened.
Still, she glanced back over her shoulder.
There had been something strangely familiar about that man.
The way he carried himself.
The weight in his eyes.
But never—not even for a moment—did she imagine the impossible.
That the Bujang still lived.
"What a strange man," Haneul muttered as she looked at Jun-ho. "I apologized, and he didn't even answer me. That man has no manners."
Jun-ho stayed silent.
His expression remained stiff while his heartbeat thundered wildly inside him.
Haneul noticed immediately and stopped walking.
"Is something wrong?" she asked softly. "Are you no longer enjoying this? If you want, we can leave…"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Jun-ho forced a smile.
"It's nothing. It'll pass."
Then he added gently,
"What would you like to do now?"
Fortunately, Haneul's attention shifted as quickly as spring wind.
Nearby, a crowd had gathered around a Baduk match.
Her eyes lit up instantly.
The strange encounter vanished from her thoughts.
Without warning, she grabbed Jun-ho's hand and dragged him excitedly through the spectators until they reached the front of the circle surrounding the board.
Haneul understood Baduk exceptionally well.
As the players moved their stones, she quietly whispered each strategy to Jun-ho before it even happened, effortlessly predicting their tactics with frightening precision.
Then—
One player cheated.
And Haneul noticed immediately.
"Hey!"
Her voice rang sharply through the crowd.
"You cheated!"
Every head turned toward her.
"How shameless can you be?" she demanded angrily, pointing directly at the board. "How dare you deceive your opponent like that?"
The man who had cheated sneered at her openly.
"Then why don't you play instead of the old man?"
Jun-ho stepped forward instantly, positioning himself between Haneul and the player.
"I'll play," he said coldly.
His eyes hardened.
"And don't speak to a lady that way again."
The man smirked mockingly.
"What? Is she your lover or something?"
Haneul's entire face turned crimson.
But before she could deny it—
Jun-ho answered calmly.
"Not yet."
The crowd immediately burst into murmurs and laughter.
Haneul stood frozen in humiliation, wishing the earth would swallow her whole.
Meanwhile, Jun-ho calmly sat before the Baduk board, adjusting his robes with the composure of a man preparing for political warfare.
Because in truth—
He needed this match.
After the shock of seeing Kang-dae, he needed to regain control over his emotions.
And perhaps…
Over this "date" that kept slipping further away from formality.
More than anything—
He wanted to impress her.
The game began.
And from the very first move, Jun-ho revealed himself to be merciless.
He did not play like an amateur.
He played the same way he survived within the palace.
Every black stone struck the wooden board with quiet authority as he cornered his opponent through calculated traps and invisible pressure.
Politics.
War.
Manipulation.
Everything he was existed inside those moves.
And after every play—
He looked at Haneul.
Searching her eyes.
Waiting for approval, he would never dare ask for aloud.
Haneul watched him in stunned silence.
The embarrassment from earlier slowly faded beneath growing admiration.
She could see the brilliance behind every strategy.
The precision.
The elegance.
The danger.
And without realizing it—
She smiled every time he did.
By sunset, the match was over.
Jun-ho had won.
Not only reclaiming his own pride—
But hers as well.
The atmosphere around them turned light and warm.
Overcome with excitement, Haneul completely abandoned propriety and threw herself toward him in celebration, laughing openly as she mocked the defeated player.
Jun-ho caught her instinctively.
For a moment, all he could do was stare at her flushed face glowing beneath the golden evening light.
And smile.
Because seeing her happy had become enough to silence every fear inside him.
With laughter restored between them, they gathered the bundles of fabric they had ordered and began the slow journey back to the House of Han.
Hand in hand.
Ignoring the stares around them.
Ready to spend the evening crafting the masks for the Sandaenori—
Unaware that the masks they were creating…
Would soon become the only thing standing between them and ruin.
The First Crack
Far behind them—
Hidden among the thinning crowd—
Kang-dae stood motionless.
His trusted soldier glanced at him nervously.
"My lord… should we leave?"
Kang-dae did not answer.
His eyes remained fixed on one thing only.
Their hands.
Intertwined.
The sight hollowed something inside him.
Because for the first time since surviving death—
Kang-dae understood a truth far crueler than betrayal.
While he had been fighting to stay alive…
Someone else had taken his place beside her.
Slowly, his hand tightened around the cloth bundle he carried until the fabric tore beneath his grip.
And then—
Very quietly—
He asked the question he feared most.
"…Does she smile like that because of him?"