Ji-hwan sat alone in his chambers, the military orders spread out before him.
If he directly warned Seong-min, it would raise too many questions. But if he did nothing, Minister Choi's plot would move forward.
He needed another way.
Carefully, Ji-hwan dipped his brush in ink and began drafting a report—one that would plant doubt without revealing too much.
He altered the phrasing of his notes, subtly pointing out inconsistencies in Minister Choi's orders. He included records of past military failings, emphasizing the dangers of poor leadership. And at the very end, he added a single line that would nudge Seong-min toward suspicion:
"It would be wise to verify Minister Choi's reports against those of an unbiased source."
It was not an accusation. Not even a direct suggestion.
But he knew Seong-min.
The king was sharp, strategic. If given even the smallest reason to doubt, he would investigate further on his own.
Satisfied, Ji-hwan set down his brush.
Now, he only had to wait.
By morning, the entire court would be talking—not about him, but about Minister Choi's questionable loyalties.
And Seong-min, whether he realized it or not, would take the first step toward uncovering the truth.
Ji-hwan smirked to himself.
A direct attack would have gotten him killed. But manipulation? That was a game he had learned well.