Silence hung in between.
Ji-hwan closed his eyes and turned his face aside, attempting to become no more than a fleeting presence in Seong-min's mind. If the king forgot, then he was free. He could retreat, be inconspicuous, and escape the catastrophe that once destroyed him.
But Seong-min's voice broke that faint hope.
"You feel… familiar."
Ji-hwan's breathing caught.
His fingers were clenched tight at his cuffs, nails digging into his palms. No. Seong-min must not suspect. He could not remember. Not yet.
"Your Majesty is wrong," Ji-hwan replied smoothly, attempting to put the lie onto his lips. "I am here before you for the first time.".
Seong-min hummed softly, as if amazed at the gravity of Ji-hwan's words. Maybe. He leaned in slightly.
"But your name. it stays with me.".
Ji-hwan swallowed hard. That was unsafe.
He had prepared himself for the king to see through him, to spurn him. But Seong-min's eyes remained strong, piercing.
Ji-hwan needed to get out.
Now.
Bending into another bow, he stated, "If there is no further business, Your Majesty, I will now take my departure."
Seong-min could not stop him. But as Ji-hwan began to walk off, he heard Seong-min muttering under his breath—words too soft for them to be heard by him.
"Yoon Ji-hwan.... why do you keep things from me?" Ji-hwan did not respond.
He just left, his fists balled.
Because the real question was—if Seong-min recalled, would he murder him again?