The night had no wind.
That was the first thing Han Seo Jun noticed.
He stood on the narrow wooden porch outside the safehouse, eyes scanning the dark slope of the mountain below. Trees stood frozen, leaves unmoving, as if nature itself was holding its breath. Silence wrapped around him not the peaceful kind, but the kind that pressed against the ears until it became uncomfortable.
Seo Jun exhaled slowly.
Something was wrong.
He stepped back inside, closing the sliding door behind him. The dim light revealed his father seated at the low table, hands folded, posture relaxed to the point of being deceptive. Han Tae Seong always looked like that when danger was close calm, composed, already three steps ahead.
"You felt it too," Tae Seong said without looking up.
It wasn't a question.
Seo Jun nodded. "It's different from before."
"How?"
Seo Jun searched for the right words. "Before… it felt like we were hiding from the world. Tonight feels like the world noticed us."
Tae Seong lifted his gaze then, eyes sharp despite the years carried behind them. For a brief moment, the air between them grew heavy.
"That's because you're no longer invisible," his father said.
Seo Jun swallowed. "I didn't do anything."
"No," Tae-Seong replied quietly. "You exist. That's enough."
He stood and moved toward the far wall, pushing aside a wooden panel that Seo Jun had never seen opened before. Behind it was a case sealed with black clasps, old enough that the wood had darkened unevenly with age.
Seo Jun felt his chest tighten.
"I wanted to buy you time," Tae Seong said, fingers resting on the case. "A normal life. Or at least something close to it."
"And now?" Seo Jun asked.
Tae Seong opened the case.
Inside lay a blade.
It wasn't ornate. No gemstones, no carvings, no marks of ownership. Just a narrow black weapon, its surface dull but not worn. It felt wrong just to look at it.
"That belonged to Muk Hyun," Tae Seong said.
Seo Jun's breath caught before he realized it had.
The first assassin. The name feared even generations after his death. The ancestor whose bloodline had been hunted into near extinction.
"You're not giving this to me," Seo Jun said slowly.
"No," Tae Seong replied. "I'm showing it to you."
He closed the case again.
"This blade ended wars before they began. The world remembers that. And because the world remembers, it fears repetition."
Seo Jun clenched his fists. "The Silence Verdict."
Tae Seong nodded once.
"They've begun moving again," his father said. "Carefully. Quietly. Just like before."
Seo Jun felt a spark of anger rise. "Then why not strike first?"
"Because they want us to act," Tae Seong said sharply. "They want confirmation. Fear makes people reckless."
He placed a hand on Seo Jun's shoulder firm, grounding.
"From tonight onward, your training changes."
Seo Jun met his gaze. "How?"
"You train as if eyes are on you," Tae Seong said. "Because they are. You don't chase strength. You refine control."
Seo Jun hesitated. "And if they come?"
Tae Seong's expression hardened, something old and dangerous surfacing beneath his calm.
"Then they'll remember why they were afraid in the first place."
Outside,