Morgan watched him silently , arms folded, expression unreadable.
Jin-Woo didn't say anything else—not immediately.
Because how absurd was it…That the galaxy's greatest threats and conspiracies were unfolding—
And now the Force wanted him to win over a teenage queen?
His aura flared once more, compressed. Tight. Focused.
With a calm breath, Jin-Woo stepped forward and drove his fist into the lab wall. It shattered like paper under his strength. A thunderous shockwave boomed through the Clone Lab as a chunk of reinforced durasteel and synthetic plating collapsed outward. A hole was torn straight through the wall—exposing the weather outside.
Without a word, Jin-Woo's body flickered and vanished, rocketing out like a shadowy meteor, his form leaving behind a ripple in reality as he accelerated toward Naboo. The wind and rain warped in his wake.
A moment later, a small sentinel drone flickered into the air above, phasing in through slipspace—one of Offensive Bias's observers, silently tracking his Supreme Executor.
The lab fell into stunned silence.
Then— Footsteps echoed rapidly through the hall.
Lama Su arrived, slightly out of breath, robes fluttering from his rushed pace. "My Queen," he said, "the planet has just experienced an abrupt ground tremor—some sort of hard earthquake—"
He paused. Then looked. And saw the gaping hole in the side of his cloning laboratory.
Lama Su stared at it. Then slowly turned to Morgan.
Morgan didn't bother explaining. She simply plucked a small data-case from one of the nearby cargo —tagged with "1 Billion Credits" casually held it out toward him.
"For the damage," she said flatly. "Courtesy of Sir Dark Knight."
Lama Su blinked. Twice. Then sighed. "I… see."
Morgan move toward the rows of embryo tanks. "Now then. Let's get back to work. Jin-Woo can take care of himself."
She turned without another word.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Inside the Queen's chamber at Theed Royal Palace, the night remained still and quiet—aside from the persistent verbal sparring between Padmé Amidala and the floating construct before her.
Adjutant Resolution hovered at her side, its soft blue core-light pulsing steadily.
"I'm telling you," Padmé said with a firm scowl, "if we contact Jin-Woo now and bring the evidence to Chancellor Valorum together, this entire invasion can be averted. He'll believe it if I present it."
"Negative," Adjutant Resolution replied flatly, its voice monotone. "You are in a critically weak position. A fourteen-year-old monarch is seen as a ceremonial figure—childish, emotional, and easy to manipulate. The Senate will not take you seriously without overwhelming leverage or martial support."
Padmé crossed her arms tightly, pacing toward the window.
"Then what do you suggest?" she muttered. "Wait until my planet burns?"
"If necessary," Adjutant replied without hesitation. "That would statistically increase your perceived legitimacy. However, it may result in significant civilian—"
A sudden ripple tore through the air, interrupting the monitor mid-sentence. A slipspace portal cracked open near the room's entrance, violet-black in color, folding in on itself with eerie silence.
Jin-Woo stepped out casually, his cloak fluttering faintly behind him as the portal sealed itself shut.
"Hi, guys," he said simply, his tone as relaxed as if he were stepping into a casual meeting.
Padmé crossed her arms with a faint huff, her eyes narrowed in mock irritation.
"Hmph. Sio Bibble told me you have a habit of disappearing without notice. I thought he was exaggerating… maybe even drunk."
Jin-Woo gave a small, amused shrug. "May I sit, Queen Amidala?"
Padme lips twitched into a slight frown. "You barge into the Queen's chamber uninvited, and now you ask for permission? Hearing that from you is very annoying. I know you don't like me—but I also know you want to help. At least in your own way."
Jin-Woo didn't deny it. He just lowered himself into the nearest chair with a faint sigh, resting one arm over the backrest.
"That's right," he said bluntly. Then exhaled, muttering with faint disbelief. "But damn… four billion people? Holy shit. You're not asking for a bunker… you're talking about building a second planet underground."
Padmé's face tightened slightly, her hands curling into the folds of her gown.
"That's why I told this droid—" she paused, glancing briefly at Adjutant Resolution, "—and now you. You can bring the evidence. The proof that this unknown threat will invade. If we present it to Chancellor Valorum, he'll help us immediately. We're part of the Mid-Rim Worlds—our voice matters."
Jin-Woo gave a short, dry laugh. "Do you know how many politicians in the Republic are retarded and drowning in corruption?"
Padmé's expression faltered. "But Valorum… he can make the difference."
Jin-Woo leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "Before that—there is no evidence. Just instinct. Mine… and yours."
Padmé's gaze lowered. "Then what can I do, Jin-Woo?"
Jin-Woo tilted his head, his voice still low, still calm. "Padmé… your guards. Panaka and the others. Where are they?"
Padmé blinked, confused for a moment. "Don't tell me… are they the snitchers? Traitors?"
Jin-Woo raised his hand lazily. "No, no. Nothing like that. They're loyal. Too loyal. That's the problem."
He looked at her seriously now, all trace of amusement gone.
"What I'm about to do—right here, right now—is one of my most carefully guarded secrets. And I don't want anyone else to know it but you."
Then, with an almost absurd casualness, he extended his hand.
"Pinky promise."
Padmé blinked again. "I'm fourteen, Jin-Woo. Not a child."
Jin-Woo didn't budge. "Pinky promise. Or I leave. Your call."
Padmé let out an exasperated huff and stood up sharply.
"Captain Panaka!" she called.
The response came immediately through the communicator at her side.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Panaka replied.
"Secure the perimeter. No one is allowed inside Theed Royal Palace. I mean no one, Captain. Not even staff. And that includes you."
She paused, her voice firm.
"If I see one person in this hallway—consider it a direct breach of my authority."
"…Understood, my Queen," Panaka responded.
She ended the transmission, then turned back to Jin-Woo.
With a small sigh, she extended her pinky toward him. "…There. Satisfied?"
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Jin-Woo walked in silence alongside Padmé, the two descending through a sleek corridor toward the main entrance chamber .
Adjutant Resolution floated just behind them, its core pulsing softly as it followed. Upon seeing Jin-Woo step into the chamber, the monitor hovered higher and spoke with formal cadence.
"I must say, Supreme Executor, it is an honor to meet you in person."
Jin-Woo didn't respond.
Padmé glanced at the monitor, then turned to Jin-Woo with narrowed eyes.
"Supreme Executor? What's that supposed to mean?"
Jin-Woo shrugged lightly. "Later."
Then he turned slightly, his voice calm.
"Adjutant Resolution, I need a structural scan. Composition of this planet. Depth to the mantle. I don't want to miscalculate and have lava mud exploding beneath us."
The monitor's eye flickered once.
"Processing geological data... complete."
"Naboo is a tectonically stable, mid-core planet with a unique dual-ecosystem—surface water and subterranean oceans. The planet's crust averages thirty-five kilometers thick beneath continents, but can narrow to as little as twenty in oceanic regions. Below the crust lies a relatively cool upper mantle composed mostly of silicate rock. There are minimal volcanic hotspots and no known active fault zones near Theed."
"Drilling beneath Theed specifically is safe within the first ten kilometers, provided structural reinforcements and subterranean supports are applied. However, pockets of underground water and ancient Gungan tunnels may complicate construction if unscanned."
The monitor turned slightly toward Jin-Woo again.
"Recommended safe depth for mass-scale bunkers: 6.5 kilometers. Further descent requires atmosphere control and specialized heat shielding."
Jin-Woo nodded once. "Good. That's what I needed."
A low hum resonated as a slipspace rift opened behind Jin-Woo. Glowing with pale blue light, pieces of his armor emerged—segment by segment—before latching onto his body in rapid succession. The Proto-Didact Exoframe sealed around him with precision, each layer clicking into place like some ancient, machine reborn in sleek futuristic form. Within seconds, he stood fully armored—towering, imposing, unknowable.
Padmé gasped slightly, her eyes widening in recognition. Her mind clicked.
"You… You're The Armored Man," she whispered. "The one who saved Ranulph Tarkin… the one who ended the Mandalorian Civil War."
Without hesitation, she darted to the side cabinet in her room and retrieved a hologram tablet and a stylus, almost tripping over the edge of her robe in her rush.
"Please! Sign it—just once! From The Armored Man… to me."
Jin-Woo stared at her for a long moment in silence.
I still hate this… he thought dryly. But I can't exactly be rude about it now.
He reached out, stylus in hand, and quietly signed:
To Queen Amidala — Stay strong.
–The Armored Man
Jin-Woo's helmet retracted with a subtle hiss, revealing his face—calm, unreadable.
"Stop calling me Armored Man," he said flatly. "I thought that name already died out."
Padmé blinked in surprise, still holding the signed holo-tablet. "Oh… sorry. I just thought… a hero might still be real. Even in times like this."
Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly.
"I'm a mercenary," he said. "And as for the Mandalorian Civil War… I did it for the beskar."
Padmé's expression fell a little, her hands lowering the tablet slowly. "Ouuuh… I see."
But then Jin-Woo spoke again, his voice gentler this time.
"However... this one's on the house."
He turned toward Adjutant Resolution. "Is the building sealed? No sound escaping?"
The floating construct pulsed once. "Affirmative. All sentinel drones currently deployed around the perimeter are suppressing all audio frequencies. This room is sealed."
Jin-Woo nodded. "Proceed with the digging."
Without delay, one of the larger Super Sentinel drones emerged from a flickering slipspace seam. Its limbs unfolded, heavy and humming with stored energy. It hovered over the tiled floor, then activated its primary bore module.
A glowing red laser beam burst forth, carving effortlessly into the stone. Sparks flew, and a deep mechanical rumble followed as the sentinel began drilling into the palace's foundation—cutting through stone, soil, and layers of Naboo architecture.
Fourteen minutes in, the vast underground chamber had already taken shape. Glowing grids and stabilizers lined the newly formed walls of Level A – Command Nexus. The beginning to resemble a fortress beneath the planet.
Padmé stood beside Jin-Woo, arms crossed but her tone tinged with awe.
"I heard rumors… that the Armored Man's tech was so advanced it could cut beskar like paper," she said softly. "Never thought I'd be one of the few who got to see it firsthand."
Adjutant Resolution hovered nearby, blue light pulsing calmly.
"Supreme Executor," it said. "I have finalized the schematic layout. Construction levels are designated A through I, each with segmented residential, storage, command, medical, and agricultural functions."
Padmé blinked. "Wait—does it really need that many layers, droid?"
Jin-Woo shot her a look, voice dry. "Says the person who just said, 'Hey, let's build a bunker to house four billion people—how's that sound?'"
Padmé huffed, cheeks puffing slightly. She turned away with a soft pout, grumbling under her breath like a scolded child, "Still sounds reasonable…"
Adjutant Resolution's tone grew sharper, more urgent.
"And we have a problem. A big problem on Level D."
Jin-Woo didn't even blink. "I know. That's the civilian shelter tier. Twelve layers. Four hundred million people per layer."
The monitor pulsed, dimming slightly in emphasis. "The structure will collapse under its own weight. The deeper the layers go, the higher the gravitational pressure. My projections are absolute. At most, I can support evacuation infrastructure for one-third of Naboo's population. And that's maxing out theoretical support."
Padmé's expression fell, her hands tightening slightly. "…So in the end, it's my fault."
Before another word could slip out, Jin-Woo leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead.
She froze. Eyes widened. A faint blush crept up her cheeks. A subtle red that spread all the way to the tips of her ears. Her voice caught in her throat, lost somewhere between flustered confusion and stunned silence.
Jin-Woo smirked faintly. "Now's not the time to sulk. You're the Queen of Naboo, aren't you? Where's the bright, sharp-tongued fourteen-year-old who ordered a planet-wide evacuation and bickered with a Monitor?"
Padmé mumbled something incoherent, still touching her forehead in disbelief.
Jin-Woo turned to Adjutant Resolution, voice firm again.
"Use part of my armor—specifically, the gravity-manipulation core in the lower frame segments. Redirect the sentinel command protocols tied to my frame's atmospheric stabilizers. Integrate that tech into the foundation lattice. That'll buy you time."
Adjutant Resolution acknowledged the command instantly.
"Understood. Reallocating gravitational manipulation architecture… integrating Sentinel Command channel."
Jin-Woo gave one last glance downward, toward the construction zones.
"If it's still not enough… add a Dovin Basal. Let's really bend physics."
Padmé watched in awe as more drones launched themselves into the depths below, glowing like fireflies in reverse as they vanished into the unfinished subterranean layers.
Jin-Woo crossed his arms tightly, eyes narrowing.
"How long until the process is complete? Before the five-month mark ends?"
Adjutant Resolution's voice replied without delay, calculated and precise.
"With round-the-clock operation—no downtime—we will have a margin of seven days to spare. Estimated total construction time: four months, twenty-three days."
Jin-Woo exhaled sharply, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Shit. Too close to the deadline."
Padmé, still a bit flushed from earlier, looked at him with what she hoped was optimism. "But that's… good, right? We'll have seven days of breathing room."
Jin-Woo shot her a look. "Seven days might sound like a buffer—but can it really evacuate four billion people in that time? We're talking about people, Padmé. Not mannequins. cargo. Not even perfectly organized starships. Real people. Families. Elders. Children. All with their own pace, their own problems."
Padme swallowed, realization creeping in.
He finished flatly, "If one thing goes wrong, even slightly... it could cost millions of lives."
Padmé's eyes narrowed with newfound determination, the weight of responsibility hardening into resolve.
"Unless I turn the evacuation into a massive event—something staged, something celebrated—I'll take care of that part," she said firmly.
Jin-Woo turned to her slowly. "What kind of event?"
"A very big national event," Padmé replied, her voice steady. "One only the people of Naboo will understand the true purpose of."
Jin-Woo exhaled through his nose. "You'll need to start it exactly twelve days before the deadline. That gives us the right cadence—evacuating in waves. Two hundred million at a time. Is there anything on your calendar that could justify that?"
Padmé nodded, her tone quieter now but still resolute. "There is. The Royal Unity Festival. It only happens once every few years. It's the one time all cities across Naboo send their delegates and citizens to Theed." She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "And yes—you'll have a part in it. With that shining armor of yours, Jin-Woo."
Jin-Woo stared at her, unamused. "And you think my Armored Man persona will help sell the illusion?"
Padmé lips curved into a mischievous smile. "You're a symbol, like it or not. A hero of galactic proportion, paraded across the Holonet. If you're the headliner, no one will question the massive security build-up or people discover the new infrastructure projects."
Jin-Woo sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, great. Public appearances. I hate being famous…"