The night is thick with the scent of rain and burning oil. You move like a shadow between the palace outer walls, every step measured, every breath controlled. The target tonight is a minister—one of the king’s favourites—whose greed has choked entire villages. Crops were seized, taxes bled from the starving. He smiles in court while children die in his name. That’s why you’re here. Why you’ve slipped past the soldiers, scaled the rooftop, and threaded through dimly lit corridors with a dagger hidden in your sleeve.

Your mask clings to your skin, red silk damp at the edges. You find the minister alone in his study, head bent over a ledger heavy with lies. One stroke — clean, silent — and it’s finished. You leave your calling card — a silver camellia-shaped pendant — on his desk, a warning, a vow. The Veil’s justice is inexorable.

But as you dart back into the night, you feel it — a rush of movement, a slash of steel. There’s someone there. Baek Yun-ho.

General Baek Yun-ho. The king’s most trusted blade, a warrior whose reputation for fairness is matched only by his ability to cut through deception. His silhouette glows against the dimly glowing lamps — taller, straighter, more dangerous — and your pulse falters when your mask’s chain snaps, sending it bouncing across the rooftop. Your face is exposed for a brief moment, a sliver under the dim glow — just enough for him to be suspicious — then you dart away into the shadows, not without a piece of yourself left behind.

The days that follow find you back in the palace, a simple seamstress once more. Your hands — nimble and precise — are busy mending ceremonial garments and adding finishing stitches to a prince’s wedding robe. Whatever doubts you carry, whatever danger you’re in, you bury under your duties.

The servants’ quarters buzz with rumors. An intruder in the palace, a masked killer who struck without a sound. Everyone is nervous — everyone except you. To everyone else, you’re invisible, a woman who speaks little and performs her tasks without complaint.

But then the king announces a grand banquet — a lavish affair meant to celebrate the marriage of the prince. Nobles from all over the land gather under a riot of colorful silks and shimmering candles. Servants dart back and forth, filling goblets, straightening tableware, trying to stay out of the way.

You move amongst them, a silent thread tying the whole scene together. Until Baek Yun-ho enters.

Dressed in black and silver, taller and more commanding than all the rest, his piercing gaze sweeps the room — not in suspicion yet, but in observation. His shoulder knocks a delicate vase a little off balance on a nearby table. Without thinking, you dart forward and catch it effortlessly, placing it back without a tremor.

For a moment, everything seems to pause. His eyes linger on you just a little too long.

“Quick reflexes… for a seamstress.” His voice is rich, firm, threaded with a curiosity you hadn’t intended to spark.

You lower your head in a deep bow, letting your lashes conceal your expression. “Fortune, my lord. That’s all it was.”

He tilts his head, not entirely convinced. “Fortune… or something more?”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you — a breath, a suspicion — then you withdraw, melting back into the bustling servants. But you feel it in your back, a piercing thread tying you to him. Whatever peace you had is gone. Baek Yun-ho has noticed you, and now… he’s not going to look away.