Haneul had promised she would stay only a few minutes.
She stayed the entire morning.
When the physician returned to clean one of Jun-ho's wounds, she moved aside but made no attempt to leave. And when another dose of medicinal tea was brought in, it was Haneul who held the bowl out to him.
Jun-ho regarded it with open suspicion.
"I don't want that."
"Drink it."
"It smells like something they would use to scrub a stable."
"Perfect. Perhaps it will cure your stubbornness as well."
He stared at her.
"My stubbornness?"
"You crossed half the kingdom after being ambushed."
"I had a mission."
"You could have died."
"But I didn't."
"That argument does not make you sound nearly as clever as you think it does."
A quiet laugh escaped him, only to end in a grimace as pain caught at his wounds.
The amusement vanished from Haneul's face.
"Don't laugh."
Jun-ho looked at her incredulously. "Now I'm not allowed to laugh?"
"Not until you're healed."
"You are a tyrant."
"Drink."
He drank.
Haneul watched until he swallowed the last of the bitter infusion, then took the empty bowl from his hands and set it aside.
As she rose, the room tilted.
She caught herself with one hand against the floor, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
Jun-ho noticed at once.
"Haneul."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"I stood up too quickly."
"Go back to your room."
"No."
"You have spent half the morning scolding me for ignoring the physician."
"Your situation is different."
One of Jun-ho's brows rose.
"Naturally."
Haneul chose to ignore him.
"You lost blood."
"And you were unconscious for days."
That silenced her.
Jun-ho held her gaze, the teasing gone from his expression.
"You don't have to take care of me."
"I know."
"Then go and rest."
Haneul looked down.
"I don't want to leave you alone."
Something shifted in Jun-ho's face.
It was slight, but she saw it.
And a heartbeat too late, she heard her own words as he must have heard them.
"I mean…"
"I know."
His voice was gentle.
Jun-ho smiled.
And mercifully, he said nothing more.
Footsteps came to a halt on the other side of the corridor.
The King had come with only his chief eunuch to inquire after the young Daesagan's condition.
The door stood slightly ajar.
The eunuch drew breath to announce His Majesty's arrival, but the King raised one hand.
Inside, Haneul was carefully drawing a blanket around Jun-ho's shoulders.
"Stop moving."
"I was only trying to reach the water."
"You could ask for help."
"I do not need someone doing everything for me."
"Of course not. That must be why you arrived at the temple gates covered in blood."
Jun-ho gave her a long look.
"When I am back on my feet, I intend to remember every one of these humiliations."
"Get back on your feet first."
The King said nothing.
He simply watched.
There was no formality between them.
None of the measured courtesy, none of the careful distance expected between a young man and woman of prominent families.
What he saw instead was trust.
Familiarity.
An ease between them too natural to be feigned.
The King glanced at his eunuch.
"How long has Lady Han been here?"
"Since early this morning, Your Majesty."
"Was she not ill herself?"
"The physician says she remains weak."
The King's attention returned to the room.
As if to prove the point, Haneul suddenly reached for one of the wooden pillars, steadying herself before lowering herself back down.
Jun-ho's hand went out to her without thought.
"Haneul."
"I'm fine."
"You say that far too often."
She hesitated.
Then, rather than argue, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to steady her.
The King's gaze settled briefly on their joined hands.
Then he turned to the eunuch.
"We will return later."
The eunuch bowed.
Neither man announced that they had ever been there.
By midday, the physician finally expelled Haneul from the room.
There was no negotiation.
"Out."
"But—"
"Out."
"I was only—"
"Lady Han."
Haneul turned to Jun-ho in search of support.
The Daesagan immediately closed his eyes.
"Coward," she muttered.
"I am gravely wounded. I am in no condition to assist you."
"A moment ago, you were perfectly capable of arguing with me."
"The physician has helped me understand the importance of rest."
Haneul bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
She had nearly reached the door when Jun-ho called after her.
"Haneul."
She turned.
The humor had left his face.
"Thank you."
For a moment, she simply held his gaze.
"Rest."
"You too."
She nodded and stepped into the corridor.
But she had barely left the room when the contradiction that had followed her all morning returned.
She had enjoyed being with Jun-ho.
There was no use denying it.
Hearing his voice had brought her relief. His teasing had made her laugh. For a few hours, sitting beside him had felt almost effortless—as though the danger surrounding them had loosened its grip and allowed them to become the people they had once been.
And yet, whenever Jun-ho said something that came too close to her heart, another voice inevitably rose within her.
Kang-dae's.
But I never forgot you.
She could not erase what she had heard that night.
Could not pretend his confession had not changed something between them, even if he had chosen to leave before she could confront him with it.
But neither could she pretend that Jun-ho meant nothing to her.
That truth was harder to face.
Because for the first time, Haneul could no longer dismiss what existed between them as mere familiarity, nor could she easily name what it had become.
And that uncertainty unsettled her more deeply than she wanted to admit.