Jin-Woo stood silently at the edge of the enclosure, his gaze steady on the massive figure of the bull rancor. Even blindfolded, the beast exuded dominance—shoulders like slabs of living stone, scars layered over its thick hide, . It stood there… waiting. ( img Here )
Dann followed his gaze and gave a nod."That one's the bull rancor," he said with quiet respect. "Probably the best in the whole chamber. Tough as phrik. I've seen it tank a direct hit from a high-charge lightning blaster and keep charging like it was nothing."
Jin-Woo's lip curved slightly. "Can it block my [Force lightning]?"
Dann let out a short, knowing laugh. "Outlander… I've heard the rumors. People whisper that you're the Masked Man himself. That you took out ten thousand mercenaries and put Durge in the ground." He looked at Jin-Woo carefully. "Even that Gorog… forty meters tall and mean as a tank—you held back against it. That bull rancor would turn to dust if it got hit by your Force abilities."
Jin-Woo chuckled, voice low. "Of course I held back. If I didn't, Mos Espa wouldn't exist anymore. The Gorog was already a walking siege engine. No need to make it personal."
Dann nodded thoughtfully, then gestured broadly at the entire chamber. "Well then… shall I begin their training?"
Jin-Woo didn't answer immediately.
( Felucian Ranchor )
( Tyrant Ranchor )
His eyes swept over the rows of rancors—each different. He noticed one with uniquely patterned scales and elongated claws: a Felucian rancor, smaller than the others, but quicker and sharper. A few cages down stood something far larger than the rest—easily twice the size of a normal beast, with tusks and a rougher, armored hide. A Tyrant Rancor.
Jin-Woo stood still, the air subtly warping around him as faint shadows began to pulse outward—cold, invisible currents of control. The ancient, oppressive pull of the dark side stirred at his fingertips, ready to wrap around every rancor in the chamber and bend them to his will.
But before he could act, Dann stepped forward, voice calm but firm. "Outlander," he said, eyes locked on Jin-Woo's, "I recommend you don't do that."
Jin-Woo tilted his head, not turning off the pressure yet. "Hmm? Why?"
Dann unfolded his arms slowly, "The bond between a rancor and its master is sacred," he said. "Hard-earned. Real. I've seen what happens when someone tries to cheat that bond."
He stepped closer, not afraid. "I saw you fight," Dann continued. "When you wore the mask. The way you split Durge in half like he was made of mud . That was Sith-level devastation. Thought bombs, terror waves—force techniques no one's supposed to remember, let alone still use."
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed , but he didn't interrupt.
Dann gestured toward the creatures—some of them shifting now, restless under the rising pressure. "You'll get results, sure. Bend their will. Control them. That part's easy when you've got power like yours. But it hurts them. You're forcing your mind inside theirs. Every command, every tug of obedience—it'll tear at who they are. And once that leash snaps? You won't have warriors. You'll have monsters who remember pain… and the one who gave it to them."
Dann exhaled, . "They don't forget, Outlander. Not when you torture loyalty into them."
Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with faint interest.
"…I'm surprised you know about thought bombs. If Durge knew it, that's expected—he's lived three or four millennia. But you?" His voice lowered, testing. "That's surprising. Are you a Sith cultist? One of those Brotherhood of Darkness remnants, hiding out, waiting for the Sith to return?"
Dann gave a small shrug, arms folded again. "No. I'm just a rancor keeper." He met Jin-Woo's gaze without flinching. "And I read a lot of archives."
A quiet moment passed—just the breathing of hundred blindfolded monsters .
Then Jin-Woo's mind stirred. My husband, Morgan's voice drifted through the telepathic bond—calm and knowing. It seems Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have already left Jabba's palace. Best you take care of your loot and return to us. We have things to discuss.
Jin-Woo gave a faint exhale, gaze returning to Dann. "…Can the training be delayed?" he asked plainly. "I've got… some problems to deal with."
Dann offered a casual nod.
"That's why I wait on your cue, Outlander. You want me to begin training now, or not?"
Jin-Woo took one last look at the Tyrant Rancor… then back at the others.
"…Later," he muttered. "For now, stall them. Feed them, keep them stable. I'll return."
And with that, he stepped back, letting the shadows gather around his feet like water rushing down a drain. Then, in a single pulse of black, he submerged into the void—and vanished.
The alleyway of Mos Espa shimmered, then warped inward. A ripple of space unfolded, and Jin-Woo stepped out from the darkness, his boots landing without a sound.
Before he could even adjust to the sunlight filtering between buildings, arms wrapped tightly around him.
Talon. She pressed into him with no hesitation, . Just behind her came her sister, Elena Daru, who joined the hug from the side—laughing softly.
Talon leaned back just enough to poke Jin-Woo's cheek with a teasing finger. "Did you miss me?" she said with a mischievous smile. "Admit it. You missed me, master."
Jin-Woo sighed, half-smiling despite himself. "Rey told you where I was, didn't she?"
Elena Daru smirked. "Ehh… you knew?"
Jin-Woo nodded. "The only ones who can locate me across star systems are Morgan and Rey. Morgan because of our connection… and Rey because our Force Dyad link is absurdly strong."
Talon tilted her head. "So that means you did miss me?"
Before Jin-Woo could reply, a familiar ripple of light twisted open in the air behind him—a transfiguration portal, swirling in pinkish-purple hues .
Rey stepped through with a grin and immediately threw her arms around him from the side. "Yoo, Jin-Woo—can I become a Monarch like Morgan? You promoted her. I wanna be like you—a god."
Jin-Woo let out a groan. "Stop calling me a god, please."
Behind her, the portal shimmered again—and out stepped Morgan,: The Queen of Winter, the Lostbelt Queen of Britain, the Next Monarch of Transfiguration.
Without a word, Morgan wrapped her arms around Jin-Woo as well—but far tighter than the others. Her embrace squeezed all three of them together.
"Ack—!" Elena Daru squirmed from the side of the hug. "Uhh… Morgan—I can't breathe."
Morgan didn't even blink. "Call me Queen Morgan, then I might let you go."
Jin-Woo sighed again—but lifted his hand to gently pat Morgan's head, then brushed through the others' hair one by one with calm affection. "Alright, that's enough. Can I ask you all to let me go now? Shouldn't you be with Anakin? His podrace is coming up—he might need help."
Reluctantly, the four girls let him go.
Rey adjusted her collar and smirked. "By the way… Padmé still wants to talk to you, Jin-Woo. I think you've delayed that a bit too long."
After some minutes passed, within the quiet interior of the Defender-class light corvette, l. The meeting room was dimly lit, spacious enough for command debriefs but currently silent—except for the low hum of the ship's systems.
Padmé stood near the edge of the table, her hands lightly resting against its surface. She still wore her desert garb—light, practical, sand-stained. .
Jin-Woo sat across from her, legs crossed, gaze steady. He had expected anger. Questions about the thousand mercenaries slaughtered. About Durge, torn apart like scrap. .
Instead— "Jin-Woo," Padmé said, her voice quiet but firm, "can I know how much… I don't know? About things on the galaxy ?"
That caught him off-guard.Jin-woo eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not going to ask about the massacre?"
Padmé didn't flinch. "That'll come later. But if I don't understand the life you're from I'll keep asking the wrong questions."
Jin-Woo leaned back, studying her again. "You're sure? What I'm about to tell you might ruin your image of the Republic. Of the Jedi. Of everything you've sworn to protect."
Padmé nodded once. "Morgan told me something once. 'Better the ugly truth than the sweet lie.'" She met his eyes without wavering. "So I choose the ugly truth."
Jin-Woo gave a relaxed grin as he leaned deeper into the seat, arms draped across the chair's edges. "First off," he said lightly, "I think the whole 'everything you've sworn to protect' might be a bit too heavy. You don't need to carry that burden alone, Padmé."
She blinked, lips parting just slightly.
"You're a good queen," Jin-Woo continued, more gently now. "Flawless, when it comes to leading Naboo. But… becoming a queen at your age—that's where the real problem starts. Not with you. With how the Senate sees you." He tilted his head. "You're fifteen this year, right?"
Padmé's face flushed immediately. "Y-You—!" she quickly snatched a small snack from the nearby dish—some dried fruit—and threw it at him .
Jin-Woo caught it in midair with two fingers and casually popped it into his mouth.
She narrowed her eyes. "That was for pets."
He blinked once. Chewed. Swallowed. "…Ohhh. That explains the flavor."
Padmé covered her mouth to stop the laugh.
Jin-Woo groaned dramatically, holding his stomach. "No way. I've already tried dog food now. I'm cursed. Destined to be a dog in every life."
"You're such an idiot," she said, shaking her head, half-laughing. "Okay. Enough joking around."
She leaned forward a little, hands now clasped on the table. "Tell me more. I'm ready."
Jin-Woo leaned forward, shadows curling slightly around his seated form as he spoke. In the Senate… you'll be outgunned. And Senator Palpatine? He won't say anything outright. He'll just whisper in your ear—'My Queen, perhaps it is time to call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum.'"
Padmé blinked. "But… isn't Senator Palpatine the one suffering from sudden dementia?" she asked, half-confused, half-suspicious. "And more of it spikes whenever he's around you, Jin-Woo."
Jin-Woo didn't answer. He simply sat still, letting silence do the work.
Padmé narrowed her eyes. Her brows pulled inward, and she tapped her fingers once against the table. And then—like a string snapping taut—her thoughts aligned. Her voice dropped, "Don't tell me…" She inhaled. "It's my fault, isn't it? I believed Palpatine was losing his mind. I even suggested he go to Coruscant… to clear his head." Her voice grew sharper. "But he used that opportunity to seize power—to turn everything against me. He must've conspired with the Trade Federation… made them invade Naboo… just to create the crisis that would give him sympathy. Leverage. And the perfect excuse to 'save' Naboo from afar."
Jin-Woo gave a slow nod. "Quite close," he murmured. "But not entirely like that."
He sat up, eyes sharpening—no more humor, . "Before I say the next part… I need to ask again." His tone turned grave. "Are you truly ready to hear this? Because what I'm about to tell you will permanently reshape your understanding of the Republic… and the Jedi."
Padmé just nodded.
Jin-Woo continued. "The goal of Palpatine… is to become Chancellor. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. And he gets there not through power or military threat—but through sympathy. Sympathy for Naboo. For you. The Republic neglects your plea. The Trade Federation invades. And when the Senate stalls… when the crisis festers… it's you who delivers the final blow to Valorum's credibility. All part of Palpatine's plan. To make you look isolated, to make him look like the only man who cared."
Padmé leaned forward, skeptical but focused. "Jin-Woo… I believe you. I do. But is it really that simple? I mean, mere sympathy for Naboo couldn't possibly sway the entire Senate. There are other figures—respected voices like Senator Bail Antilles of Alderaan. Surely they'd see through it."
Jin-Woo gave a dry chuckle. "A person is smart," he said. "But people? People are dumb. Panicky. Dangerous animals when they move together."
Padmé frowned. "That's harsh. You're mocking democracy itself. The Republic exists for the people, by the people. That's why there are so many senators gathered under one banner—to uphold peace."
Jin-Woo's tone turned colder, more cutting. "And the people," he said bluntly, "are retarded."