The palace did not mourn.
It celebrated.
Silently at first—
Then openly.
Word spread quickly.
Zhao Han.
Dead.
The dangerous prince.
The one who slipped through chains.
Gone.
And with that—
Something inside the palace seemed to loosen.
As if a weight had finally been lifted.
Li Zhen
He sat at the head of the hall.
For once—
He looked… calm.
Not merciful.
Not kind.
But satisfied.
"…Prepare a banquet."
His voice was steady.
Final.
The court officials exchanged glances.
A banquet?
For a dead man?
But no one questioned it.
No one dared.
The palace began to prepare.
Silk banners were hung.
Food was arranged.
Music was arranged.
Everything was perfect.
A celebration disguised as honor.
But in truth—
It was something else.
A declaration.
That the threat was gone.
Li Xian stood alone in his chambers.
The noise of the banquet echoed faintly through the walls.
Music.
Laughter.
Voices.
But he did not move.
Did not change his expression.
Did not attend.
Because inside—
Something had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
He lowered his gaze slightly.
"…Relief…"
The word left him softly.
But it didn't feel like relief.
Not fully.
Not clean.
It felt… wrong.
Heavy.
Because deep down—
He knew the truth.
But he said nothing.
And stayed silent.
Far Away – The Forest Village
The wind moved gently through the trees.
Soft.
Unaware of the world beyond it.
Inside a small house—
Zhao Han lay awake.
Staring at the ceiling.
Silent.
Still.
Thinking.
Thinking too much.
Then—
He heard it.
"…Zhao Han is dead."
The words came from outside.
From passing villagers.
From rumors carried by the wind.
He didn't move at first.
Just listened.
Carefully.
Slowly.
And then—
Something in his chest loosened.
Just slightly.
Not joy.
Not happiness.
But something quieter.
"…Dead…"
He repeated the word under his breath.
Testing it.
Feeling it.
No longer hunted.
No longer chased.
No longer marked.
To the world—
He was gone.
Erased.
Zhao Han closed his eyes slowly.
A faint breath left him.
"…Good."
A whisper.
Small.
Quiet.
"…At least now…"
A pause.
"…I can breathe."
But even as he said it—
Something lingered.
Unfinished.
Unresolved.
Because death in rumors—
Does not always mean peace.
And somewhere—
In the distance—
Two men stood on opposite sides of the same lie.
Both believing they had gained relief.
But neither of them—
Was free.