Queen Genie's gaze lingered on him, unwavering, searching. Her fingers toyed idly with the edge of her sleeve, betraying the calm in her posture.
"You don't feel… disappointed?" she asked at last, her tone quieter now, as though bracing herself for the answer.
For a brief moment, Jade hesitated—not because he didn't have an answer, but because he feared what might flicker in his expression if he looked her in the eye. So instead, he lowered his gaze to the delicate pattern carved into the porcelain plate before him.
"Not at all," he murmured, his tone composed, practiced.
But the evasion did not escape her notice. Genie gave a small, dissatisfied nod, lips pursed in mild frustration.
"Well… that's good to hear, I suppose," she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to him. "Anyway, I'll announce it formally at the next state council. The appointment of the royal consort will be put on hold."
With that, she picked up her chopsticks again and took an unnecessarily large bite of savory pancake, chewing a little too forcefully—her subtle way of sulking, masked behind the appearance of a meal.
Jade watched her with quiet amusement, the corners of his lips lifting in a smile that was barely there, like a secret he kept even from himself.
Before the court, before the ministers, she was regal composure incarnate—every movement deliberate, every word measured. But here, across this modest table under the pale winter sun, she allowed herself the small luxuries of imperfection: a pout, a muttered complaint, a mouth full of hurried bites.
And Jade found that he liked this side of her most of all—the candid, unguarded Genie she showed to no one else.
Even the court ladies standing discreetly behind her struggled to keep their composure, faint smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths as they exchanged furtive glances. They, too, recognized the rare softness unfolding before them.
As the Queen continued eating with exaggerated focus, Jade's mind wandered elsewhere. One thought began to surface, uninvited but persistent.
'Had she shared this decision with anyone else before now?'
Carefully schooling his features into practiced indifference, he spoke with deliberate lightness, as though the question were mere curiosity rather than something far more personal.
"Have you informed anyone else of this, Your Majesty?"
Genie paused mid-bite, her chopsticks halfway to the next piece of food. She lifted her eyes to him, curious.
"About what?"
"The postponement of the royal consort appointment," Jade clarified. His gaze remained fixed on the food in front of him, a studied picture of composure. "I was wondering… whether you'd spoken of it to anyone else. Perhaps… the other candidates."
What Jade truly wanted to know—what gnawed quietly at the back of his mind—was whether Queen Genie had shared this decision solely with him, or if Moonsen had been privileged with the same knowledge. The unspoken comparison lingered bitter on his tongue.
Genie answered before he could form the question properly, shaking her head with calm certainty.
"No," she said, clear and resolute. "I've only told you, Jade."
The simplicity of that answer struck him harder than he anticipated. A smile threatened to curl at the corners of his lips, and he fought to restrain it, holding it back like a secret he wasn't ready to expose.
"I see, Your Majesty," he managed, his voice quiet but steady.
But before his thoughts could tumble further into uncertainty, she spoke again, her tone open, almost vulnerable in its sincerity.
"I wanted you to be the first to know."
For a heartbeat, everything around him—the gentle clatter of dishes, the murmuring of the winter wind weaving through the camellias, even the distant rustle of silk from the court ladies' garments—seemed to fall away, fading into a muted hush.
'Why?'
The word formed on the tip of his tongue, burning with curiosity, with longing.
'Why me? Why first?'
Was it just trust? Or was there something more fragile and dangerous stirring beneath her composed mask?
He couldn't bring himself to ask. Not yet. The distance between them, carefully upheld by duty and decorum, suddenly felt both paper-thin and impossibly vast. And though the weight of the question pressed against his ribs, his courage faltered, folding beneath the weight of uncertainty.
But even without the answer, one thing felt unmistakably real.
To Queen Genie, he was not merely another minister at court—not just another name written neatly in the royal ledgers of power and politics.
He was… someone.
That alone sent a quiet warmth flooding through his chest, dispelling the lingering chill the winter wind had left in his bones. It was the kind of warmth not from hearth or fur-lined coats, but from something far rarer—recognition, closeness, meaning.
The sunlight filtering through the lattice screen reached him then, gentle and golden, as if nature itself were conspiring to warm the spaces in him that had long been cold.
And for the first time in a long while, Jade let that warmth settle in his heart.
Midnight.
While most of the palace slumbered beneath the heavy velvet of night, only a scattered handful of royal guards stood vigilant at their posts. Torches flickered along the palace walls, their flames bending and swaying in the cold breeze, casting distorted shadows that danced like silent sentinels.
Clad in plain clothes of muted grey, Jade moved swiftly through the labyrinthine corridors and courtyards of the palace, his steps deliberate but fluid. His cloak billowed faintly behind him, whispering with each stride. The guards he passed straightened at once, bowing respectfully at the sight of him, though none dared speak.
With the barest tilt of his head, Jade acknowledged them, maintaining his steady pace—measured enough not to rouse suspicion, but brisk enough to betray his sense of urgency.
The instant his boots crossed the threshold of the palace gates, his composure cracked, replaced by a sharper, swifter stride. He slipped like a shadow into the city beyond.
The streets of the capital, usually alive with noise and flickering lantern light, now lay silent, shrouded in the hush of sleeping households and shuttered market stalls. Only the occasional creak of old wooden signs disturbed the stillness, swaying in the winter wind like forgotten relics of the day's bustle.
As Jade moved purposefully through the winding alleys toward Kim Jin's residence, an unsettling prickle crawled down his spine. Instinct honed by countless battles warned him—he was not alone.
His steps slowed, controlled, purposeful. Without breaking stride entirely, his right hand slid toward the hilt of the sword strapped beneath his cloak, fingers curling loosely around the worn leather grip.
Then, he stopped.
"Who's there?" His voice cut through the night like a blade, low and commanding.
No answer. Only the faint whistle of wind rushing through narrow alleyways.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then—movement. A dark figure burst from behind the corner of a shuttered shop, boots pounding against the frozen earth, darting left into the deeper shadows.
Without hesitation, Jade was after him.
The chase was silent save for the slap of boots against the dirt road, echoing sharply between the narrow walls of sleeping homes. The fugitive's cloak flared behind him, his movements quick and practiced, but Jade was faster, driven by cold precision and a soldier's endurance.
As they rounded another corner, Jade's sharp eyes caught it—a fleeting glimpse illuminated by a shaft of moonlight breaking through the clouds.
The runner's face.
Recognition hit like a blow to the chest, halting Jade mid-stride.
'That face…'
It wasn't a stranger. No, it was someone familiar. Too familiar.
Jade's breath curled into the cold air as his heart gave a sharp, disbelieving thud.
'That man…!'
A thousand questions crowded his mind, but instinct snapped him back to the present. The man was already disappearing into the maze of streets ahead.
Jaw tightening, Jade resumed the pursuit—this was no mere spy or thief. This was something far more dangerous.
Someone from his past.
Someone who shouldn't be here.
Jade's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword at his waist as he slowly turned on his heel.
"Who's there?"
Silence. The stillness of the alley pressed in around him like a held breath.
Then—movement.
From behind a half-collapsed store, a shadow broke free, bolting to the left without a word.
Without hesitation, Jade gave chase, boots striking against uneven cobblestone. The man, cloaked in black, darted through the labyrinth of alleyways like a rat fleeing a torch.
And then—it happened.
Just as the fugitive veered sharply to the right, a shaft of moonlight cut through the darkness, illuminating his face for the briefest instant.
Jade froze mid-stride.
'That face…!'
A jolt of dread surged through him, a cold wave rolling down his spine.
'No. It can't be… It mustn't be.'
His grip loosened on his sword as his gaze locked on the empty alley where the man had vanished. The pounding of his heart was the only sound that remained.