The young man faltered—just slightly. A blink too long. A breath too short. But then the same bright smile returned, seamless as before.
"Oh, yes," he said cheerfully. "Today, all of our students have gone out to sea. A special village outing. That's why no one's around."
Genie's brows knit ever so slightly. Her eyes scanned the grounds again, more sharply now. No footprints in the dewy grass. No leftover bags or shoes. No trace of sudden departure.
"All of them went to the sea?" she asked slowly, her voice tinged with disbelief.
The man nodded without missing a beat.
"Yes, that's right. A full-day excursion."
Genie tilted her head, folding her hands before her as if in polite curiosity.
"Then let me ask one more thing," she said gently. "What is the student capacity assigned to this school by the Hana Kingdom, and how many are currently enrolled?"
She knew the answer already. She had reviewed the official records before setting foot in this village. But she asked anyway, carefully watching his reaction.
For a fleeting moment—barely the span of a heartbeat—the young man's smile disappeared. His eyes flickered with something harder. Then the smile returned, immaculate once more.
"I'm just a technical instructor," he replied. "I don't know those kinds of details."
A smooth lie.
Genie's expression remained unchanged, but beside her, Jade took a quiet step forward.
"Then we'd like to speak with the head of this school," he said evenly. "When would that be possible?"
The young man's smile tightened, no longer the easy, welcoming curve it had been moments ago. It looked practiced now—forced, like a mask that no longer fit quite right.
"The headmaster isn't here at the moment," he said, his voice still pleasant, but a beat slower than before.
Jade didn't waver.
"When should we return?"
That question, simple as it was, clearly unsettled him. The smile held, but his eyes flinched ever so slightly. For the first time, he hesitated.
Realizing these two were no ordinary travelers—and that their gaze pierced deeper than surface pleasantries—he adjusted his posture.
"Then..." He swallowed discreetly, then spoke with careful politeness. "Please come back tomorrow. I'll inform the headmaster of your visit."
Jade turned to look at Genie, silently asking her opinion.
She gave a slight nod in response, her expression unreadable.
Jade faced the young man again.
"Very well. We'll return tomorrow."
"Excellent," the man said, quickly regaining composure. "This way, please."
He led them back to the large wooden gate with smooth, rehearsed movements.
"Yes, please do return," he added with a short bow. "Safe travels."
He stopped beside the gate and stood there, motionless, waiting for them to leave. There was no warmth in his farewell—only a sense of quiet relief, as if their departure was something to be urgently but politely achieved.
Just as Genie and Jade reached the threshold, Genie turned her head slightly, her voice casual but probing.
"Is there a local inn nearby where we could stay?"
The young man blinked once. The smile remained, but the pause that followed spoke volumes. In that instant of silence, his thoughts raced behind his placid eyes—assessing, calculating, choosing the right words.
Jade caught it. His gaze sharpened slightly. This man wasn't thinking about directions—he was weighing consequences.
Then, finally, the man spoke again, as if nothing had changed. "Yes. If you head to the end of the alley, there's an inn. You should be able to stay there."
He gestured once more to the gate, ever the polite host.
"Well then, see you tomorrow."
With a faint bow and that unwavering smile, he ushered them out.
The gate creaked behind them, sealing them once more outside the strange stillness of the school grounds. The sun had risen slightly higher, but the village felt no warmer—if anything, a quiet chill lingered, threading through the air and into their bones.
Back on the deserted stone path, Genie leaned in toward Jade and whispered low, her voice barely above the breeze.
"Jade… this village is suspicious."
"Let's first drop off our things at the inn and then inspect this village," Queen Genie said quietly, her voice steady but low as they stepped out of the academy's stone courtyard.
Jade walked beside her, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword hidden beneath a plain cloak.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied, casting a glance toward the narrow, dusty path that led downhill toward the heart of the village.
The late afternoon sun had dipped lower, casting amber shadows over the modest seaside town. The cries of gulls echoed faintly from the distance, and the scent of salt hung in the breeze. After a short walk, they came upon a small inn nestled at the far end of the coastal lane—the very one the young crafts instructor from the academy had spoken of earlier.
Queen Genie stepped forward and gently pushed open the inn's crooked wooden gate. It gave a creak, old hinges resisting her touch.
"Is anyone here?" she called out.
No answer. Only the whistle of the cold sea wind replied, curling around them like a warning.
Beyond the gate stood three thatched-roof cottages, their mud walls faded and cracked by years of sun and salt. They sat in a row like forgotten siblings—small, weathered, and worn thin by time. Genie frowned slightly.
'All the other houses in this seaside village were so extravagant…
Why is this inn so small, so quiet... so hidden?'
Jade, ever cautious, stepped ahead of her and approached the center cottage. His boots crunched lightly against the gravel as he raised his voice. "Is anyone there?"
Suddenly—
Crash! Bang!
A loud clatter erupted from within. The wooden door swung open with a jolt, and a gaunt middle-aged woman stumbled out, her frame frail and bent, a white headscarf barely holding back wisps of unkempt gray hair. Her eyes darted between them with a guarded sharpness.
Genie stepped forward and offered a gentle bow, her voice warm and calm. "Are you the owner here?"
The woman hesitated for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Jade spoke again, his tone respectful. "Do you have a room where we could stay for the night?"
The woman's eyes scanned them slowly—lingering on Genie's delicate shoes, Jade's broad shoulders, the subtle nobility that clung to their movements despite the plain clothes they wore. Suspicion clouded her gaze.
Genie felt the weight of the woman's mistrust.
'She doesn't look like an innkeeper eager for guests... If anything, she seems afraid. Of what? Or who?'
The woman's thin fingers trembled as she lifted an arm and pointed toward the far-left cottage.
"Th-that one… There's a room in there," she muttered, barely meeting their eyes.
Genie didn't press further. She offered a bright, reassuring smile, one that softened the atmosphere like a sudden shaft of light through storm clouds.
"Thank you," she said, and with a graceful nod, stepped toward the leftmost cottage.
Just as Genie took a step toward the far-left cottage, the sharp voice of the innkeeper pierced the stillness.
"But…!"
The word rang out, shrill and urgent, halting Genie in her tracks.
She turned around slowly, her expression calm but alert. Jade, who had been walking a few paces behind, also paused and pivoted silently to face the woman.
"Yes?" Genie asked gently.
The innkeeper stood rooted to the spot outside the middle cottage. Her hands, still tightly clasped together, were trembling so violently they looked like brittle leaves in a storm. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Her eyes darted nervously between the two of them.
Jade's gaze sharpened. He noticed the tremor in her fingers, the flicker of fear in her eyes, the unnatural hesitation that coated her silence.
Something was wrong.
The woman's throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, and at last, in a voice as fragile as dry reeds rustling in the wind, she spoke.
"W-why have you… come to our village…?"
Her question lingered in the air, raw and trembling, as though torn from a place of deep unease.
Jade stepped forward with quiet authority, his tone measured and unflinching. "We're a married couple with a child old enough to attend the academy," he said plainly. "But the academy in our village is currently closed, so we came here—to the seaside village—to look into this one."
The innkeeper's face went pale as Jade finished speaking. Her eyes widened with something close to horror, and she suddenly burst into motion, flailing her thin arms in a wild panic.
"No! You mustn't—absolutely mustn't send your child to the academy here!" she cried, her voice rising unnaturally high.
The outburst rang sharp in the quiet air, jarring enough to make Genie take a small step back. She blinked, startled by the woman's vehemence.
"Why not?" Genie asked cautiously, her brows drawing together. "Is there some problem with the academy?"
The innkeeper stiffened. Her lips trembled as if she regretted saying too much already.
"N-no…" she stammered, clutching her hands to her chest. "It's nothing like that at all…"
But her quivering tone betrayed her words.
Jade narrowed his eyes slightly.
His voice remained even, but the weight behind it grew heavier. "Ma'am," he said gently, "if there's something wrong with the academy… please tell us. If there's anything we should know—"
Before he could finish, a loud creak echoed from behind them.