Seo Jun couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, his father's words replayed in his head—each one heavier than the last.
Assassin.
Clan.
Truth.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. They looked the same. Felt the same.
So why did everything feel… different?
The door creaked open behind him.
"Get dressed," Han Tae Seong said. "We're leaving."
Seo Jun glanced at the clock. "Now?"
"Yes."
There was no argument in his tone. No explanation either.
They drove in silence, the city lights blurring past the windows. Seo Jun tried to ask where they were going—but the words stayed stuck in his throat.
The car stopped in front of an abandoned training hall on the edge of the city.
"This place," Tae Seong said as they stepped inside, "hasn't been used in sixteen years."
Dust covered the floor. Faint marks on the walls told a story of blades, fists, and blood long since cleaned away.
Seo Jun frowned. "Why bring me here?"
Tae Seong didn't answer.
Instead, he walked to the center of the room and pressed his palm against the floor.
A hidden panel shifted.
Seo Jun's breath caught.
Inside were relics-old weapons, cracked masks, documents written in symbols he couldn't read.
"This is what they were trying to erase," Tae Seong said.
"They?" Seo Jun asked.
"The clans," his father replied. "The elders who decided that fear was safer than balance."
Seo Jun's jaw tightened. "Fear of what?"
Tae Seong picked up a worn dagger. The blade looked ordinary—but the air around it felt wrong.
"Of a name," he said. "One they believed should never exist again."
Seo Jun already knew what name was coming.
"Muk Hyun."
Tae Seong didn't look at him.
"He wasn't the strongest because of his skill alone," he continued. "He changed how assassins existed. No loyalty to clans. No blind obedience. Only efficiency and control."
Seo Jun's chest tightened. "So they killed him."
"They failed," Tae Seong said. "Time did what blades couldn't."
Silence returned.
"And when he died," Tae Seong added softly, "the world panicked."
Seo Jun stared at the weapons. "So they hunted his followers?"
"They hunted his blood."
The words settled slowly, painfully.
"They formed an organization to do it," Tae Seong went on. "One that still exists today. One that watches. Waits."
Seo Jun swallowed. "And you?"
Tae Seong finally turned to face him.
"I was once close to surpassing Muk Hyun."
Seo Jun froze.
"That made me a problem," Tae Seong continued. "But when you were born…"
His voice lowered.
"They realized something far worse."
Seo Jun felt his pulse spike. "Father…?"
Tae Seong met his eyes.
"You didn't inherit his will."
The room felt like it might collapse.
"You inherited his blood."
Seo Jun's knees almost gave out.
"That makes you," Tae Seong said, "a direct descendant of Muk Hyun."
Silence crushed the space between them.
"And that," Tae Seong finished, "is why they killed your mother."
Seo Jun clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin.
"This hall," Tae Seong said quietly, placing the dagger into his son's trembling hands, "will decide what you become next."
Seo Jun stared at the blade.
Then looked up.
"Teach me," he said.
Tae Seong exhaled—long, tired, relieved.
"The moment you said that," he replied, "you stopped being a target."
The lights flickered.
"You became a threat."