Above him, perched on the rock, Kisa grins down at him. She doesn’t look at all surprised as she hops down. “How exhilarating,” she gasps. “I was never much one for theater—or improvisation, at any rate—but I think I pulled it off, don’t you?

“You knew?” splutters a pained-looking Yeomra.

“I see him for who he is,” she replies, pointedly cocking an eyebrow. “No matter if he’s illusioned or not. I told you that you underestimated him.”

Seokga has never loved Kisa more than he does in this moment.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, swaying on his feet. “I should have listened to you about Jang. I-I shouldn’t have called her…”

“No,” Kisa says firmly, lurching closer to him and cupping his face in her hands. “Don’t blame yourself for it. For any of it. My death is not your fault. It’s hers. And I don’t blame you for not wanting to think she had it out for you…”

“Seokga,” his father pants desperately, “think of all I can give you…that we can give each other…”

“No, thanks,” says Seokga, leaning into Kisa’s touch. It’s all he’ll ever want. All he’ll ever need.

Mireuk’s face contorts into the vicious mask that Seokga remembers. “I will hunt you to the ends of the earth…I will burn your mother’s verdant hills and plains with scorches of wildfire…I will pull the veins from your skin and tie them together…”

“That’s not completely anatomically possible,” Kisa points out, beaming at Seokga. Her eyes are sparkling, and damn it, if his heart isn’t swelling full to the point of bursting. Tenderly, he wraps his arms around her. Embracing her is like gasping that first breath of sweet air after drowning. Seokga buries his face in her mane of coffee curls, squeezing her tight.

“I love you.” She doesn’t need to say it back. She doesn’t even need to feel the same. He just needs to say it. “I love you, Kisa.”

He’s not hurt when she pulls back slightly. The time that they’ve had, he will treasure forever. The two of them got a second chance, and that’s more than many can ever ask for.

So when Kisa smiles tenderly at him and whispers the words back, he’s sure he’s misheard her, or has found himself in an illusion of his own making.

“I think I might love you, too,” she murmurs.

“SEOKGA—” Mireuk roars.

“Goodbye, Father,” Seokga says, turning away. And he doesn’t look back once.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Seokga