On Naboo, under the cover of night, the streets near Theed's royal palace were bathed in a soft golden glow from the palace lamps. Palpatine stood quietly near the edge of the garden, his hands folded calmly behind his back, his expression smooth — but his eyes flicked with faint impatience.
He murmured under his breath, "Maul is taking too long… should I contact him?"
Suddenly, his sharp gaze caught the faint silhouette of a cloaked figure approaching from the shadows — the gait uneven, a limp in every step, the cloak pulled tight over the figure's body.
Palpatine's smile widened ever so slightly as Maul emerged into the light, his face tight with pain, the scars from the thermal detonator still raw and biting into his flesh.
Palpatine stepped forward smoothly, his voice quiet and careful, ensuring no one nearby could hear.
"I take it you've finished the job, my good friend?"
Maul, silent, reached into his cloak and pulled out two items — a shredded piece of Jin-Woo's clothing and what looked like an eye. He handed them over without a word.
Palpatine's eyes gleamed as he accepted the items, turning them over slowly in his hands. "Well done," he said softly, his voice touched with approval. "Get some rest, ."
Without another glance, Palpatine turned, he walked away, leaving Maul standing quietly in the night's stillness, the flickering pain in his body a reminder of the price paid.
Inside the grand throne room of Theed Royal Palace, Sabé sat gracefully on the throne, flawlessly embodying Queen Amidala's regal poise. Padmé, in her simple handmaiden attire, stood nearby — the true queen hidden in plain sight, observing quietly.
Before them stood the guests: Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Sabé offered a composed smile, her voice formal and measured.
"I thank you, Jedi masters , for escorting Senator Palpatine here safely. As for hospitality, you are most welcome to remain at Theed Royal Palace as our honored guests."
Qui-Gon gave a respectful nod but replied calmly, "I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. We are required to return to the Jedi Temple soon."
Then his tone softened slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"However… I am curious. Is Jin-Woo available? Senator Palpatine has spoken repeatedly about how his arrival has changed Naboo — how, among other things, he helped forge an alliance with the Gungans, uniting them with the surface dwellers."
At that subtle shift, Padmé discreetly raised her fingers, giving a small, hidden signal to Sabé.
Sabé caught it instantly, her face calm as ever.
"I'm afraid Jin-Woo is not available at the moment," she said smoothly. "Perhaps… some other time, Jedi Masters ."
Suddenly, from the grand entrance, Senator Palpatine hurried in, his steps sharp but controlled. He gave a polite bow, his voice slipping easily into a tone of practiced urgency.
"Your Majesty, I have urgent news. May I speak?"
Sabé straightened slightly on the throne, her queenly demeanor firm.
"Proceed, Senator."
Palpatine drew in a soft, carefully measured breath.
"Jin-Woo has been found dead, Your Majesty… and in a most gruesome manner."
The words struck the room like a silent hammer.
Sabé's eyes narrowed just faintly.
"Senator, do you have proof?"
Without hesitation, Palpatine reached into his cloak, pulling out a small wrapped bundle. He stepped forward and gently placed it on the polished floor before the throne — a torn piece of Jin-Woo's clothing… and an eye.
Off to the side, Padmé — disguised as a handmaiden — felt her throat tighten, tears welling despite all her training. But she clenched her fists softly, forcing herself to stay composed, biting back the raw sorrow threatening to rise.
Sabé saw the flicker in Padmé's eyes, the crack in her hidden queenly heart. Her protective instincts surged, and the full force of her throne voice returned.
"Senator Palpatine," Sabé said firmly, "do you know who did this? Who is the killer?"
Palpatine dipped his head slightly, his tone touched with just the right weight of sorrow.
"I only heard, Your Majesty, that he traveled to Malachor… seeking to recover an artifact for one of his buyers. Beyond that… the details are shrouded in mystery."
Qui-Gon folded his arms, his brow furrowing deeply.
"Malachor… I've read about it in the Jedi Archives. A world scarred by ancient wars — where Jedi and Sith clashed millennia ago." His gaze sharpened slightly. "Does this buyer have a description? Anything on who they were?"
Palpatine offered a small, regretful shake of his head.
"He only boasted in his usual way. Saying things like, 'Hey Senator, I can get rich without your help — I have famous buyers.' That was all."
Then Palpatine continued, lowering his voice with heavy solemnity.
"And in his final message to me… he said, 'Tell the Queen… there is a traitor among us.'"
Obi-Wan's eyes snapped up sharply.
"Master Qui-Gon, we need to report this incident to the Council immediately."
But Qui-Gon's expression was thoughtful, his arms still folded tightly.
"I think the Council wouldn't act on such a small matter, my Padawan. If we want to help, we may need to travel to Malachor ourselves."
Off to the side, Palpatine kept his face a perfect mask of sorrow — but within, his thoughts were sharp, cold, and triumphant.
Good… the more important people that die, the faster my plan accelerates.
A man crouched smoothly beside Palpatine, inspecting the crumpled piece of black clothing and the supposed eye on the floor. Palpatine stiffened slightly but tried to ignore him.
The man's voice came lightly, with a faint hint of dry humor.
"Nice black clothes. And… ew, an eye. You sure you don't collect dead bodies, Senator?"
Palpatine's brow twitched faintly. He slowly turned his head, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Gentleman… if you cannot sorrow… like we a-r-e—"
His words slowed abruptly, his pupils narrowing.
Standing right beside him was Jin-Woo.
Across the room, Qui-Gon's sharp eyes widened, his stance tightening as he turned.
"Identify yourself."
Sabé shot up from the throne, her voice crisp and clear.
"Calm yourself, Master Jedi! It's Jin-Woo — the very man Senator Palpatine presumed dead."
Padmé, still in her handmaiden disguise, couldn't stop the sharp breath that escaped her, her hands trembling faintly as emotion surged in her chest. She longed to run to him, to throw her arms around him, but Jin-Woo subtly raised his hand, making a small, playful pinky promise signal.
Padmé blinked, swallowing thickly — and then, just as gently, she lifted her own hand, matching the pinky promise, her disguise and composure firmly in place… even as a few quiet, relieved tears pricked her eyes.
Jin-Woo shifted his gaze smoothly, his sharp eyes flicking toward the distant hills.
Even without needing to look hard, he could sense Maul — crouched far away, binoculars raised, the weight of his seething rage thick in the air.
Calmly, almost playfully, Jin-Woo raised one hand and made a simple gesture: two fingers pointing toward his own temple.
Not smart enough.
On the room, Palpatine stepped forward, his usual smooth mask sliding back into place.
"Jin-Woo," he said smoothly, "I must say, I'm surprised you're alive. The Queen has been deeply worried about you."
But Sabé raised a hand sharply, cutting him off.
"Enough, Senator. Let Jin-Woo speak."
She turned her steady gaze to Jin-Woo, her voice calm but firm.
"Jin-Woo… I heard you traveled to Malachor. Is that true? And if so…" she paused slightly, her eyes narrowing, "can I know who the traitor is?"
Palpatine felt his throat tighten.
A bead of sweat traced down his temple as his heartbeat spiked, though his outward face remained composed.
If he says my name… Palpatine's mind hissed in sharp, guttural Sith tongue,
"Kriffing haran'sheee'gar!" (damned destroyer!)
If he says my name here, I'm done.
But Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly, a small, almost sheepish grin touching his lips.
"Malachor?" he said lazily. "Which planet is that again?"
Sabé's eyes widened slightly, her voice sharpening.
"You didn't travel to Malachor? But Senator Palpatine said—he claimed your dying words through the holocommunicator were that there's a traitor among us."
Jin-Woo let out a low, easy laugh, waving a hand.
"Oh, no, no… that must've been a misunderstanding." He leaned forward, voice dropping into a more casual, playful tone.
"I was actually fighting… a rancor. On a nearby asteroid."
Sabé, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan all froze for a beat — then turned to glance at each other, their faces almost perfectly matched in deadpan disbelief.
"…Are you serious?" Sabé asked dryly.
Jin-Woo gave a faint shrug, his grin never slipping.
"The rancor was… well, sus. It stole some of my things. I chased it down… and smacked it around a bit."
Sabé let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"…I see."
Hidden among the handmaidens, Padmé pressed her lips tightly together, her sharp mind working quickly behind her composed disguise. She knew Jin-Woo — knew he never spoke random nonsense without purpose.
Sus… she echoed inwardly.
Suspicious. He's signaling there's someone watching… a snitch.
Palpatine let out the small exhale, almost imperceptible, his lips curling into a strained smile.
"I think… everyone is very tired, haha," he said , masking the tension in his voice.
Jin-Woo, still smiling lazily, reached into his shadow inventory — and with a light flick, he set an ornate, ancient-looking chalice onto the floor .
He locked eyes with Palpatine, voice light and teasing.
"Here. A stupid incense burner, right? You asked for it — I found it." His grin sharpened slightly. "Pulled it off a rancor, that little shit."
Palpatine's throat tightened, his fingers curling ever so slightly as his eyes flicked to the object on the ground.
That's… that's the Sith chalice I asked him to retrieve… I called it an incense burner to disguise its nature, but…
He swallowed hard, carefully masking the flicker of panic crawling up his spine.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan leaned slightly toward Qui-Gon, whispering under his breath.
"Master… I think Jin-Woo is trying to tell us something."
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, his arms folding as he regarded Jin-Woo carefully.
"Obi-Wan," he murmured back, voice low, "this man walked into this room undetected… even by us Jedi. He's absolutely no fool. And I'm starting to believe he's a Force wielder — one who's managed to disguise himself… exceptionally well."
Qui-Gon stepped forward calmly, his presence steady and composed.
"My name is Qui-Gon Jinn," he said, his deep voice carrying the quiet authority of a seasoned Jedi. "I've heard stories about you — how you helped the queen achieve peace with the Gungans. But there's something I must ask… How did you bypass our senses?"
Without missing a beat, Jin-Woo gave a casual, almost amused smile. And then — crack! — he suddenly twisted one of his own fingers, breaking it clean with a sharp snap. Blood immediately began to drip down, dark and vivid against the pale floor.
Padmé, still in her handmaiden disguise, instinctively stepped forward, her voice breaking through in surprise.
"Jin-Woo! What are you doing? It's inappropriate to do this… in front of the queen!"
Jin-Woo turned slightly, his smile faint but steady.
"You have a mobile midichlorian detector on you, don't you? One of you, at least.".
"I think… it's much easier to explain everything… using this."
Obi-Wan stepped forward carefully, reaching out as he gently swiped some of Jin-Woo's blood from his injured hand.
"Excuse me, Jin-Woo," Obi-Wan murmured politely, before activating the small scanner on his wrist, feeding the blood sample into the mobile detector.
The device pulsed softly — once, twice — then fell eerily silent. The result blinked on the tiny screen:
Midichlorian count… 0.
Qui-Gon's brows furrowed, his gaze narrowing sharply.
"Every living being," he said slowly, his voice tinged with a deep unease, "has midichlorians. Even a very small amount. Only something… or someone… dead would register as having none."
His eyes locked hard onto Jin-Woo. "…Are you Even living , Jin-Woo?"
Jin-Woo's thoughts flickered coolly.
Ah… so that's Perfect Unnoticeable, a sub-skill drawn from my Force Heart. It makes me no different from an inorganic being… or a dead person, as long as it's active.
He gave a faint shrug, his smile returning, calm and faintly amused.
"There's your answer," Jin-Woo said lightly. "I'm no different than a dead man."
Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly.
"Doesn't that… bother you?" he asked carefully. "I mean — technically, you don't exist on the living spectrum. You're an outcast, sorry to put it that way."
Jin-Woo chuckled softly.
"At least," he said smoothly, "I can spook you guys on your own radar. When I walk past, I probably register as a walking stone… or a walking corpse. Hard to detect, that's all."