“You went to So -” there is a cutting edge of an accusation to that statement, spoken in a familiar mild voice. Shifting between sleep and wakefulness, Soo tries to remember the owner of that voice. But all she could think of is the bitter aftertaste it leaves - disappointment - jealousy - malice.

The darkness thins to a blinding light. It is the white sun in a pale azure sky. The clink of blades colliding jolts her gaze down. She watches the two men as they engage in a deadly duel, her view partially blocked by the army that awaits orders. The voice she heard is overlaid with the images that - even with the words blurring the sounds of the duel - still manage to maker her flinch.

He means to kill - she realizes as she watches the unrelenting stance of one swordsman. His offense is powered with malice - his blade thirsty for blood.

“Did you want to kill the fourth prince?” Her own voice is laced with hesitance, she knows the answer but prays not to hear it, not to have that final shattering confirmation of her fears.

And I am holding him back - her eyes shifts to the other man and her heart sinks at the realization. His skill is superior, his movements are lethal, yet there is a weight on his shoulders, tension at his jaw. He means to thwart - not attack. New voices resound in her head a fragment of a different conversation.

“Aren’t you worried about me?”

You won’t die tomorrow - your highness…”

“Your confidence is - comforting.”

“I wish to be king. Nothing bad will come from removing obstacles in my path when the opportunity presents itself.” The cold voice continues its mild revelation.

He is long gone. Her heart thuds painfully at the realization. Still she reaches out, still hoping, still naive.

“We can leave the palace - the king will allow it.”

“Then a new problem will arise.”  

“You said you are doing this for me - you are deceiving yourself.” Finally she lets the disappointment colour her tone, finally she lets the tears fall.

The dust rise and the unforgiving sun is reflected in their locked blades. She moves from the pillar that shields her wanting - needing to warn him. I made a mistake. I trusted a wrong man. No - you don’t have to hold back. Fight for your life.

The old conversation continues.

“Is it because of the fourth prince?”

He whirls away too late and the strike draws blood. There is a silent scream in her throat.

“I will make you come back to me.”

And the veil of oblivion is lifted. She sees him as he spins around, the sunlight reflected from the wicked edge of his blade cutting across his face in a silvery beam. She sees him then, sees him when he utters those words, sees the cold calculation, the mask of forced compose that had hidden his previous warmth, sees him raw - stripped of the sheep skin - the man she had once thought was kind hearted and gentle - the man she had almost married - Wook.

There is no glint of amusement in his eyes, there is no tilt of humour in his mouth - it is but ice and ice cuts. She shivers as she watches his blade’s descend, the swirl through air it cannot cut and plunge into the weakest spot of the armor of his opponent.

She imagines the plunge - imagines the pain as if the cold blade sank into her own heart and as he moves over his shoulder she watches the same pain etching across a face so familiar. The half moon eyes - the fringe that touches them, the scar concealed yet that she knows is carved into his very being.

“ Wangjanim !” her scream is real as she bolts awake, her heart still pounding at the last visage of her nightmare. “So…”

For a moment she hopes to find herself in the musuri quarters, or the palace under siege and the back of her eyes burn. But there are arms around her and instead of the chill that she expects to settle into her bones she finds herself cocooned in warmth - his heart thumps against hers - alive, unharmed. Ha Jin exhales in relief, nuzzling against his throat from where she is tucked under his chin, hands splayed on his back, burrowing into his warmth. It is then that she realizes something is wrong.

“So?”

He doesn’t stir and he is too warm.

She sits up too quickly, rolling them over so that she could see his face, her palm pressed against his flushed cheek.

“So?” She calls him again, frowning. Fever, he has fever, it is of no matter they were drenched earlier she tries to reassure herself. But negativity settles in with each failed attempt to awake him. Her hand is pressed against his heart and she knows - though she is slow to realize it - his heart is slow.

“So! No - no - no!”

The storm is spent on the night air, leaving only a drizzle into which she stumbles. The wet ground underneath her hurried feet is slippery, slowing her down. She tries to breathe deep, will herself into a calmness that has fled her completely.

Poison. She tries not to think of it yet the dark thought clings to her like an eclipse she cannot ward off. The pieces of puzzle are clicking into place and Ha Jin is not sure if she likes the image in front of her.

I will not play a part of your destruction.

There are images, new and old swirling in the puddle of her confused thoughts. She is Ha Jin, she is Hae Soo, she had been called that a long back too. She is his, had been his and so has he repeated over and over until fate itself had torn them apart.

The tears that flood her eyes are angry, burning a path down her face like streams of acid. She groans in desperation at the realization that claws at her conscience.

“You need to beware of the fourth prince. Don’t do anything that angers him.”

Her own words cut across her thoughts. Misjudgments, misplaced loyalties. A monster she had created, fed and released so that it could devour her own happiness.

So lost in her thoughts is she that she almost walks into the beams of blinding light, before realizing they are headlights of a oncoming vehicle. Her is slow in the aftermath of the shock that all she can do it raise a hand in an unfertile attempt to block her eyes. Still the light blinds her and her eyes flutter close, hair on the back of her neck rise in alarm.

It stops a few feet short of hitting her, the light is dimmed and in the drizzle she hears the sound of dismounting footsteps.

“Are you alright?”

Ha Jin blinks a few times before her heart jumps at the familiarity of yet another face. Looking down at her, with his hands on her shoulders is the boyish face of the tenth prince.

**

Though she is home at a reasonable hour for a change, Mun Seong finds sleep is not simply summoned at will. Instead she finds herself curled with a bowl of untouched popcorn watching a recorded episode of a chart show - because - frankly because she is too worried to call it a day.

There was something ominous about the way Prosecutor nim had taken his leave, no matter how much she tried to keep herself disassociated with her mother’s romantic drama mentality, she couldn’t help but think it felt as if he was walking right into a danger.

There is nothing romantic about her dynamics with Hwang Yo for her to stay awake at an ungodly hour pondering over his safety. On the contrary they had started on a very wrong foot and he still overworks her nine out of ten times. But something had changed over the time, something about the man behind all the hype had struck a chord with Mun Seong that she couldn’t bring herself to put Hwang Yo in to the workplace box that he belonged to and tape it shut. Instead he sauntered all over her thoughts popping up at random intervals and basically scaring her subconscious into a frenzy. Because for pity’s sake - he is an engaged man!

She checks her mobile for the tenth time in the last minute and groans as it strikes her that even if he is in a trouble it is hardly unlikely that Hwang Yo would call her. Instead she tosses the phone away and massages her temples, the sound from the Tv starting to cause a mild headache.

She might have dozed off - Mun Seong thinks when the shrill cry of the door bell startles her awake. The Tv is still chatting unintelligibly and the bell continues to buzz in the dead of the night. Scrambling to her feet with conscious hands running through her hair she goes to answer the door and finds that it is a disheveled Yo with a handkerchief pressed to his forehead.

Her hand shakes when she turns the knob and her eyes are wide as they stand facing each other and she notes the blood trickling down his temple. Yo notices the reaction building and with a flinch places his finger on his lips. Dark spots dance across his vision and he wonders offhandedly at managing to drag himself all the way to her door. But the thought escapes him and he sees her nodding silently, mirroring his action.

“Prosecutor nim?”

He doesn’t reply, instead collapses on her, his weight staggering them both backwards inside the house.

**

It is more than she can take. Her knees buckle under the weight of mistakes of two lifetimes as Ha Jin tries to catch her breath. Her eyes burn and so does her lungs with restrained sobs that she cannot bring herself to succumb into.

Lee Eun, it turns out was looking for them in the first place. She catches bits and pieces about continuous flights and father of jet legs until the moment he had almost run over her in the dark stormy countryside. He is a doctor, So’s doctor who coach Park had called back from States after his accident - because - admittedly coach Park has no trust lost on Hwangs and their family hospital.

It is where Baek Ah finds her, crouched against the wall outside the house, hands wrapped around herself and chin resting on her knees. The first rays of sunlight makes her look pale, shimmering ghostly against the dew in her hair.

“Go Ha Jin Ssi?” He calls out tentatively, but has to repeat himself louder a few more times to finally extract a reaction. There is a lost look in her eyes, too large and sorrowful that it tugs at his heart and Baek Ah wonders why he feels compelled to reach out and console her. “He will be alright, Dr. Lee might be young, but he knows what he is doing. His grandfather would personally kill him if he fails - you know - he is sponsoring -”

“You said he went to see my uncle…” Her voice is detached as she cuts across, cold and hurting. Baek Ah silently berates himself for divulging that information in her presence. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It might have nothing to do with -”

“It’s poison - he is poisoned.” There are silent tears draining down her face and her lips tremble. “You don’t understand - he has done it again.” She tucks her head in and her shoulders shake. “Oh what am I going to do with him?”

Baek Ah is about to ask what she meant when a car pulls into the drive. They both watch in silence when Yeon Hwa makes her away over to them, her smile a display of pretty dimples that he finds utterly uncomfortable.

“Oh my poor cousin,” she reaches out with a placid look of compassion and pulls Ha Jin into her feet and side hugs her. “Uncle is so worried about you.”