Meanwhile, with the day's duties finally behind him, Jade—captain of the royal guards stationed at the Princess's pavilion—slipped away from the palace.
The streets were already draped in shadows, the lamps flickering low as the city settled into silence. Cloaked in the anonymity of night, Jade moved quickly, avoiding the main roads, his destination tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where only a few scattered homes stood.
Eventually, he arrived at Kim Jin's private residence—a modest house nestled in a secluded corner. Without pausing to knock, he stepped through the gate.
Removing his shoes at the entry, Jade padded quietly up the wooden steps and stopped before the study door. He raised his hand and knocked once.
Moments later, the door slid open. Kim Jin stood there, face unreadable but grave. Without a word, he stepped aside and gestured for Jade to come in.
The study was dimly lit, the warm glow of the oil lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The two men sat across from each other at the low study table. The silence that settled between them was heavier than usual—thick with unspoken thoughts and something uncomfortably close to tension.
At last, Kim Jin broke it.
"Jade… what took you so long to come?"
There was no anger in his voice—just quiet disappointment.
Jade lowered his gaze.
"…Sorry, sir."
Kim Jin, trying to ease the weight in the air, softened his voice.
"Well… where is the information Ash requested? The records on Hana Kingdom's weapons depots and troop deployments?"
Jade's jaw tensed. His lips remained pressed together for a brief moment before he reached beneath the hem of his long black cloak. From within, he drew out a tightly rolled scroll—worn at the edges but carefully sealed.
"Here it is," he said quietly.
Kim Jin took it with both hands, unfolding the parchment slowly. His eyes scanned the concise summaries—precise details of stockpiled arms and storage locations only a handful of royal officers would know. As he read, a look of satisfaction gradually replaced the earlier tension on his face.
"Thank you, Jade," Kim Jin said at last, finally exhaling.
For weeks, Jade had been silent—no visits, no updates, no assurances. The delay had stirred unease in Kim Jin's mind. Doubt, even. But now, holding the document in his hands, guilt crept in.
'I was a fool to even doubt him,' Kim Jin thought, remorse flickering in his chest like a cold wind.
His expression softened, and with the gentle smile Jade had always known from him.
"Jade, I know things must've been overwhelming—supporting Princess Genie during the succession trials. I heard the news… she was named the next ruler. Congratulations. You made it."
Jade gave a brief shake of his head.
"No, sir. Her Highness did it."
There was a pause—subtle but thick.
'Her Highness'…? Kim Jin echoed silently.
The formality in Jade's voice was new. Distant.
Something about it unsettled him.
He studied Jade's face more carefully now, wondering—quietly—what had changed.
But Kim Jin shook off the uneasy feeling that lingered after Jade's formal tone. After all, Jade had just handed over vital intelligence—information about Hana Kingdom's military resources, carefully compiled and summarized to send to Ash. That was proof enough of his loyalty.
"Well," Kim Jin said, folding the scroll and tucking it away. "What's done is done. We should focus now on what comes next, once she officially takes the throne. You'll likely be appointed to the highest position in Hana's military department, Jade. It's only natural."
The hours that followed blurred into low voices and unfolding maps. Kim Jin laid out the plans passed down from Ash Kingdom—detailing what Jade's actions should be, how he would continue to report covertly, how his influence could quietly sway the new regime from within.
But Jade barely heard a word.
He sat still, nodding occasionally, his face blank and composed—perfectly controlled. But behind the mask, his mind roiled with unease. Every word from Kim Jin felt like a betrayal he was growing less and less able to justify. The weight of what he had done pressed heavily on him—not just the deception, but the deliberate lie he'd committed.
He had falsified the report. The summary he handed over wasn't real.
And he didn't regret it.
On his way back to the palace, the streets were even darker than before—silent, still. The lamps had burned low, and the stars above hung bright and cold over the rooftops.
Jade stopped walking and looked up at the sky, letting the silence settle over him.
He felt a sharp pang in his chest—guilt. Not for betraying Ash, but for the lie he'd lived for so long. Eleven years spent in Hana as a spy, every step meant to repay the debt he owed Kim Jin—for rescuing him from the streets, for raising him when his parents had died, for sending him to Ash.
But none of it mattered now. Not compared to her.
Genie.
She was more than a mission. More than duty.
In his heart, he knew the feeling that guided him now wasn't just loyalty.
He couldn't bear the thought of being the cause of her fall. He couldn't even imagine standing against her.
Jade didn't know what it meant yet—this shift inside him. But he knew one thing with quiet, immovable certainty.
He wanted to protect her.
No matter the cost.
"Strike up the music!"
The command rang out, and the grandest of the palace's outdoor banquet halls came alive. Torches blazed along the marble colonnades, casting golden light across the opulent gathering. Royal officials in embroidered robes, court ladies in flowing silks, and vigilant guards stood assembled in celebration, their faces lifted toward the orchestra as joyful strains of music soared into the night.
At the far end of the hall, elevated upon a dais adorned with silken banners and golden lilies, sat the newly crowned monarch—King Gen. Clad in regalia fit for a ruler, they radiated composure and quiet strength, their gaze steady as the festivities unfolded.
Just below, standing to the King's right, was Jade—captain of the royal guard. His armor gleamed beneath the torchlight, polished to a mirror finish, though his stance remained relaxed yet alert. His eyes swept the crowd with a practiced gaze, watching over the revelers with both pride and wariness.
From nearby, the mellow voice of Minister Han Son cut through the music like a breeze through silk.
"Another grand celebration awaits our nation yet," he mused aloud, swirling wine in his goblet.
Behind him, Moonsen leaned in, curiosity piqued.
"What do you mean by that, Minister?"
Han Son chuckled—a deep, knowing sound that carried a touch of mischief.
"Why, now that Her Highness has ascended the throne, surely a royal consort shall soon be chosen. The decree for consort selection cannot be far behind."
At the threshold of the great banquet hall, Genie waited—poised, silent, radiant.
She stood draped in a robe of pure white silk, the fabric catching the torchlight like moonlight on water. Golden threads wove intricate emblems of the Hana Kingdom along her sleeves and hem, glimmering with each breath she took. Her crown, a delicate circlet of gold set with pearls and phoenix feathers, rested gently upon her brow, still unfamiliar but already commanding reverence.
Inside the hall, the final notes of the last performance faded into a reverent hush.
King Gen, seated upon the high throne and flanked by court dignitaries, raised a hand to still the crowd. He had only just subdued a bout of coughing, his breath shallow but steady. The moment he spoke, his voice—rasped with age but clear in conviction—rang with authority.
"This is the moment a new chapter begins in the five-hundred-year history of the Hana Kingdom," he declared. "By the guidance of the divine, and the voice of both people and ministers, I proclaim the twentieth king of Hana…"
He paused, emotion flickering in his eyes as he looked toward the entrance.
"…The first queen in Hana's five centuries of rule. Queen Genie."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the hall erupted.
Applause thundered like waves crashing against ancient cliffs. The palace orchestra surged into a triumphant fanfare, strings and horns echoing through the high arches and into the twilight sky. The massive doors at the end of the hall creaked open, revealing Genie in all her newly anointed glory.
She walked forward—head high, steps measured, each footfall an oath. Down the central aisle she strode, her gaze unwavering. Officials bowed, courtiers lowered their heads, and even the guards at her flanks saluted with rare, solemn pride.
The applause swelled again at the sight of her. Yet in the sea of faces, Genie saw King Gen, smiling from his throne, his eyes shimmering with tears he did not wipe away.
'Father…' she thought, her heart full. 'I will build a Hana where the people can smile—guided by the divine, strengthened by justice.'
From the edge of the dais, Jade watched the queen approach. Her posture was gracious and charismatic at the same time.
'Your Highness… No—Your Majesty, she corrected silently. Please… don't lose who you are in all of this.'
Their eyes met across the hall—a moment silent, yet louder than the cheers that echoed around them.