The forest did not return to normal after the men fled.
Even when their footsteps faded into the distance, even when the rustling leaves settled back into stillness, something in the air remained unsettled. It lingered—heavy, watchful, as if the forest itself had witnessed something it did not understand.
Haru was the first to speak.
"…what was that?"
His voice was quiet, cautious, lacking the sharpness it usually carried. It wasn't accusation, but it wasn't ease either.
Yoon stood a few steps ahead, staring at his own hand as though it belonged to someone else. His fingers curled slowly, uncertain.
"I don't know," he replied.
And he meant it.
The way he had moved, the way his body had reacted without hesitation—it hadn't felt new. It hadn't felt like something he had just done for the first time. Instead, it felt… familiar. Not in his mind, but somewhere deeper, somewhere beyond memory.
"You stopped him," Haru said, stepping closer. His eyes searched Yoon's face, looking for something he couldn't name. "That wasn't luck."
Yoon didn't answer.
"…who are you?" Haru asked finally.
A quiet pause followed.
"I told you," Yoon said softly. "I don't remember."
The words sounded hollow even to himself.
—
Not far from them, hidden within the cover of the trees, the men who had fled had not gone far.
They watched.
Waited.
And spoke in hushed, tense voices.
"I saw it," one of them muttered, his gaze fixed in the direction Yoon had gone. "That mark on his neck."
"You're imagining things."
"I'm not," he snapped. "It was glowing."
Silence fell between them.
The weight of those words was not something easily dismissed.
"…call them," another finally said, his tone reluctant.
"If we're wrong—"
"If we're right," the first interrupted sharply, "we don't walk away from this."
A long moment passed before the others nodded, unease settling over them.
"…fine."
—
By the time the sun began its slow descent, the forest had changed again.
The light dimmed, stretching shadows longer across the ground. The wind that once moved freely through the trees had gone still, as if something unseen had silenced it.
Haru stopped walking.
"…we're being followed."
Yoon looked up, his senses sharpening in a way he couldn't explain.
This time, he felt it too.
A presence.
Not wild or reckless like before—but controlled. Intentional. Watching.
"…what is it?" he asked quietly.
Haru didn't answer immediately. His hand tightened around the small blade at his side.
"…not the same as before," he murmured. "Stay close."
"No," Yoon said softly.
Haru frowned, glancing back at him. "…what?"
"I don't think running will help."
The words came naturally, even though he didn't know why.
And that, more than anything, unsettled him.
—
The figures appeared without warning.
One moment, the path ahead was empty. The next, shadows shifted—and they stepped out.
Three of them.
Unlike the men from before, there was nothing rough or careless about their presence. Their movements were precise, their posture composed, their eyes sharp and unwavering.
Dangerous.
"…so it's true," one of them said calmly.
Haru immediately stepped in front of Yoon, blade raised. "…who are you?"
No one answered him.
Because their attention wasn't on him.
It was on Yoon.
—
"Come with us."
The words were spoken evenly, without force, but they carried no room for refusal.
Yoon didn't move.
"…why?" he asked.
A brief pause followed before the man replied, "Because you don't belong here."
The statement struck deeper than it should have.
For a moment, something stirred inside him—a faint pull, a quiet echo of something lost.
But it wasn't enough.
"I don't even know who I am," Yoon said.
The man tilted his head slightly, studying him. "Exactly."
—
"Take one more step," Haru warned, his grip tightening on the blade, "and I won't hold back."
The tension snapped.
One of the figures moved instantly.
Haru didn't even see it coming.
He was pushed back with force, his body hitting the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
"Haru—!" Yoon stepped forward instinctively.
That same feeling returned.
Stronger this time.
Sharper.
Like something inside him was beginning to wake.
—
"Enough."
The leader raised a hand, and the others stopped immediately.
Disciplined.
Controlled.
He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, until he stood just a few steps away from Yoon.
Close enough to see clearly.
Close enough to confirm.
"…there's no doubt," he said quietly.
His gaze shifted to the back of Yoon's neck.
"…it's him."
—
Silence settled heavily between them.
"…who…?" Yoon's voice faltered. "Who am I?"
For the first time, the man's expression changed.
Not into sympathy.
But into something more serious.
"…you really don't remember."
It wasn't a question.
—
Behind him, one of the others spoke in a low voice. "Should we inform the capital?"
The leader didn't answer immediately.
His eyes remained on Yoon, calculating, measuring every detail.
"…no," he said at last.
"We confirm first."
—
Far away, in the heart of Yongcheon, something shifted.
Kim Min-jae stopped mid-step, his expression tightening ever so slightly. His hand rose slowly to his ring as a faint warmth pulsed against his skin.
Once.
Soft.
But unmistakable.
"…Yoon…"
The name left his lips like something fragile, something he had carried for far too long.
—
Back in the forest, the leader took one final step forward.
"Come with us," he repeated, his voice quieter now, but far more dangerous.
"Before others find you first."
Yoon stood still, caught between two worlds—one he did not remember, and one he did not trust.
Behind him, Haru struggled to his feet, his voice strained but determined.
"Don't go…"
The words were weak.
But they held.
And for the first time, Yoon realized—
this wasn't just about who he was.
It was about who he chose to stand with.
The wind moved again, cold and quiet, carrying with it the sense that something inevitable had begun.
Because the search was no longer distant.
Yongcheon was no longer waiting.
It was closing in.