Late at night, under the quiet veil of darkness, Jade slipped through the gate of Kim Jin's residence. The garden was still, moonlight glinting off the tiles of the curved roof. He moved with purpose, but a heavy weight clung to his steps. Without pausing, he made his way to the study and opened the door.
Inside, Kim Jin sat behind a desk cluttered with scrolls and inkstones. At the sound of the door, he stood up at once, eyes bright with expectation.
"Jade! How did it go?"
Jade stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his face unreadable as he stood in front of Kim Jin.
"I've been selected," he said quietly. "As one of the final three royal consort candidates."
Kim Jin let out a triumphant laugh, clapping his hands together in glee.
"That's wonderful, Jade! Absolutely wonderful! Now the position is practically yours!"
But Jade didn't smile. A subtle unease darkened his features. He shook his head slowly.
"The decision hasn't been made yet, my lord. In the end, it rests with Her Majesty's heart."
Kim Jin waved a dismissive hand, his grin wide.
"Yes, yes, of course—but still, this is good news. You look different too—elated, even. I haven't seen that spark in your eyes in years. I daresay you might be enjoying this more than you admit."
Jade's expression faltered, his gaze dropping for the briefest moment. Kim Jin didn't notice. He chuckled as he poured himself a drink.
"You must be thrilled at the thought—becoming her husband, standing beside her as the consort. And when the time comes, you'll give Hana over to the Ash Kingdom with victory, together."
But at those words, Jade's face turned to stone.
The silence that followed was heavy, tense.
Kim Jin's hand froze halfway to his lips. He narrowed his eyes.
"What's wrong, Jade?" Kim Jin leaned in, his voice low and needling. "Aren't you happy to see Ash eating up Hana very soon… all thanks to you?"
Jade's expression turned stony, his jaw tightening.
Kim Jin's eyes narrowed, reading the shift in his posture like a seasoned strategist reading a battlefield.
"Jade," he said carefully. "Be honest with me. Do you… perhaps like her? As a woman?"
The question landed like a hammer blow. Jade felt his heart drop. He froze.
He couldn't lie outright—but he couldn't answer, either.
For a few seconds, silence thickened between them.
"Oh, don't tell me you—"
"No." Jade cut him off, his voice low, clipped.
"Not at all. I've spent time with Her Majesty… even risked my life beside her. Naturally, there's a bond. But to say I like her as a woman? That's… absurd."
Kim Jin stared at him, searching for cracks in his facade. But Jade's voice was too steady, too practiced. Eventually, Kim Jin let out a breath and chuckled.
"Hah. I see. I'm sorry. My joke went too far." He waved it off like dust on a sleeve. "In any case, once you become consort, everything will be set in motion. Ash will make its move. Make sure the doors are open when they come."
Jade said nothing.
He sat still, the silence stretching longer.
In his heart, words pressed against the walls of his chest—words he couldn't voice aloud.
'Hana is a country that loves and serves its people. It doesn't hunger for conquest. It doesn't bend others under its heel. It is… gentle. It is just.
And it is led by Queen Genie—kind, wise, and brave.'
But how could he say that to Kim Jin?
To the man who had raised him from the gutter, trained him, believed in him when no one else had?
To the Ash Kingdom that had molded him into a weapon?
How could he say that he no longer wished to be that weapon?
That somewhere along the way… he had changed?
That he had come to love Hana?
And that he could no longer be the one to bring about its fall?
So Jade sat in silence, his loyalties tearing at him from opposite sides of a battle that had yet to begin.
San-gi approached the old wooden gate, his expression a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The yard beyond the gate was littered with arrows—half-finished, broken, or skewered into random planks of wood like a battlefield of craftsmanship. He took a breath, straightened his robes, and rapped gently on the door.
A gruff voice called out from within. "Come in."
With a soft creak, the door opened to reveal a cluttered workshop. Tools hung from the walls like aging sentinels, and the scent of resin and pine filled the air. Amid the chaos stood a man in his fifties—his clothes worn and stained, his hands roughened by years of labor. In one hand, he held a bundle of arrows. In the other, a wooden shaft he seemed to be shaving with deliberate care. He glanced up.
"Did you come to buy arrows?" he asked, without ceremony.
San-gi stepped in, bowing slightly.
"No, Master Tanan. I came to learn from you."
Tanan narrowed his eyes.
"Learn from me?"
"Yes," San-gi said, his smile broadening. "I've heard of your name even across the borders. They say you're the finest arrow-maker in Hana."
The old man gave a grunt and turned back to his work.
"Where are you from? You don't sound like a Hana native."
San-gi chuckled and shrugged.
"Ash Kingdom, Master. I made the journey here just to find you."
Tanan shook his head.
"I don't teach anymore."
San-gi blinked.
"You don't teach...?"
Before he could say more, two boys scurried out from the adjoining room, each clutching a small bundle of arrows.
"Master, we've finished this part!" one called.
"I'm done too, Master!" the other chimed in, holding his arrows high with pride.
They hurried to Tanan, their faces flushed with the eager energy of apprentices. The old man's posture stiffened slightly. San-gi's eyes twinkled.
"It seems, Master," he said with a gentle grin, "that you do, in fact, still teach."
Tanan grumbled under his breath, avoiding San-gi's gaze.
"Wait here," he muttered, then turned to the boys and took their arrows. He examined the tips closely. "What did I tell you? Sharp—but meticulous. These ends are uneven. They won't fly straight."
The boys bowed their heads and nodded in unison.
"Yes, Master."
"Sorry, Master."
Without protest, they returned inside, mumbling about trying again.
Tanan strode toward San-gi, who still stood just inside the threshold, hands clasped respectfully in front of him. The older man's expression was unreadable, his voice level but firm.
"Well," Tanan said, stopping a few paces away, "I'll be honest with you. I'm sorry you traveled all this way, but I don't accept students from Ash."
San-gi blinked. The statement struck him like a sudden gust of wind—unexpected and cold.
"I… I don't understand, Master. Why not?"
"Don't call me that," Tanan said sharply. "I'm not your master. And as for why…" He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "Because I won't let our craft be carried back to your kingdom."
His words were direct, not cruel—but the weight of them settled heavily in the space between them. San-gi struggled for a response.
"But… I genuinely just want to learn. That's all," San-gi said quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief and frustration.
Tanan's gaze softened, though his stance remained resolute.
"I believe you," he said. "But belief doesn't change the tides. I stopped teaching foreigners a long time ago. Especially now, with the queen newly crowned as king—tensions are rising. This is not the time to hand our secrets to other lands."
San-gi opened his mouth, but the creak of a door interrupted him.
Both turned to look.
From the inner room stepped a tall figure, wiping his hands on a cloth, eyes adjusting to the light. His presence commanded attention—not by force, but by sheer gravity.
San-gi's eyes lit up in recognition. A grin burst across his face, wide and incredulous.
"Bro! Dragon!!!" he exclaimed, half-laughing, half-shouting, as if he'd just seen a ghost come to life.
The man—Jade—paused mid-step, eyebrows lifting as his gaze locked onto San-gi. Recognition dawned slowly, then surprised warmth broke through his otherwise stoic expression.
Tanan looked between the two, his brow furrowing.
"How do you know…?" he asked San-gi.
San-gi didn't answer immediately. He was still grinning, hands half-lifted as if resisting the urge to rush forward.
"Just know?" he said, laughing. "We survived together!"
"Minister Jade," Tanan said, bowing respectfully as he approached him.
San-gi's brows furrowed.
"Minister?" he repeated, clearly confused.
Moments later, all three of them were seated on thin cushions in the quiet side chamber beside the workshop. The scent of cedarwood lingered in the air, and dust motes drifted lazily through shafts of sunlight spilling in from the latticed window.
"What?!" San-gi suddenly burst out, disbelief etched across his face. "So you're the Minister, bro?"
Jade's lips curled into a restrained smirk, the expression subtle but unmistakably amused. He nodded once, calmly.
"Yes."
San-gi gaped at him.
"Wait—then where's Gene? That girl who was with you—was she not...?"
But before he could finish, Jade's smile faded. His voice dropped low, calm but deliberate.
"Don't speak Her Majesty's name so casually."
The air seemed to shift. San-gi froze, stunned by the gravity of that title. His eyes widened even more than before.
"Her… Her Majesty…?" he echoed, almost in a whisper.