Jin-Woo's tone turned colder, more cutting. "And the people," he said bluntly, "are retarded."
Padmé's eyes narrowed,
but Jin-Woo didn't flinch."You've already heard me say that before," he added, "but you're still clinging to this idealized version of the Senate. Even Valorum—he might respect you, might even believe in you—but he won't move for you. Because he needs to balance the Republic's confidence in him. And sacrificing that for a fifteen-year-old Queen of Naboo…? That's a risk he won't take."
Padmé exhaled, her gaze turning more serious. "Then what must I do, Jin-Woo? If I'm already outgunned politically… what's left?"
Jin-Woo didn't answer immediately. His arms still crossed, his eyes sharp but thoughtful. "You're not entirely outgunned," he said finally. "Look on the bright side: the Trade Federation can't take hostages."
Padmé blinked. "What do you mean?"
"The population," Jin-Woo said. "All of them. Evacuated underground—remember?"
Padmé's eyes widened slightly. Then it clicked. "Oh… the bunker," she said . "Right. The one we built months ago beneath the surface of Naboo. The Trade Federation wouldn't even know it exists."
She smiled . "Because of our efforts… they won't be able to threaten or leverage anything."
Jin-Woo leaned back in his chair again, saying nothing. Technically, he thought, I did all the heavy lifting.
He and Adjutant Resolution—his Forerunner Monitor—had constructed that hidden mega-bunker, a vast labyrinth beneath Naboo's crust, large enough to house billions. Reinforced, cloaked from sensors, connected to emergency rift tunnels if evacuation became necessary.
But still… he let Padmé believe it had been teamwork. Let her take pride in the effort.
Jin-Woo leaned forward again, folding his hands atop the table. "If you want to hear my suggestion… then let Palpatine become Chancellor. That's it. You don't need to do the heavy lifting."
Padmé tilted her head, frowning. "Let him? You mean just… not interfere?"
Jin-Woo nodded once. "Exactly. But don't be the one to say the words. Don't call for the vote of no confidence against Valorum. Let the Senate tear itself apart."
Padmé pursed her lips. "But… we could report Palpatine. Use your identity as the famous hero—the Armored Man. That could sway the Senate. You could testify against him. They might even imprison him."
Jin-Woo's expression didn't change. "You're sure about that?" he asked evenly. "The Armored Man persona is famous. Revered, even. And I did came to Naboo in that armor, in full view of the galaxy. That would make Naboo central. Important. But what you're suggesting… would trigger civil war."
Padmé hesitated.
Jin-Woo continued, his tone like steel. "One side would support the Armored Man. The other? Would label him too dangerous. A threat to galactic order. The Republic would fracture. Every system would take sides. And from that point on… every star system would bleed."
He met her eyes. "You sure you want that?"
Padmé stayed silent, her brows tightening as Jin-Woo's words echoed in her thoughts.
The weight of it all—the future, the Senate, Palpatine—it pressed down .
Jin-Woo's tone relaxed slightly. "So we forget about that crazy suggestion," he said, waving his hand. "That's a good outcome."
Padmé blinked, then leaned forward again. "But, Jin-Woo… if I don't say what needs to be said, Palpatine will become Chancellor. And that's a problem if someone like him actually achieves that much power."
Jin-Woo gave a faint smirk. "Who said he'll be Chancellor alone?"
Padmé paused. "…Huh? I still don't get it."
Jin-Woo leaned back and gave her a teasing glance. "Eat that jerky you threw at me earlier—it might make you smart."
Without hesitation, Padmé reached into the pouch, grabbed two jerky pieces—still technically pet treats—and popped them into her mouth.
Jin-Woo's eyes widened. " I was joking!"
Padmé chewed slowly, then crossed her arms, trying to look regal. "Now I'm serious," she declared. "I'm not a kid anymore. Is that enough for you, Jin-Woo? The Armored Man himself?"
Jin-Woo sighed, then chuckled. He reached out and gently patted her head. "You don't need to prove it like that," he said softly. "You might get a stomachache."
Then Jin-Woo spoke, tone casual but with an edge of something deeper. "They say… when someone tries to become a great leader—someone like Palpatine, who's a master planner—there will always rise another. His adversary. His mirror opposite."
Padmé tilted her head slightly. "And who would that be, Jin-Woo? If such a thing is meant to happen?"
Jin-Woo only smirked. "No, not now. If I told you, that'd be a spoiler."
But in his mind, the thought sharpened like a blade.
Ranulph Tarkin… Antagonistic. Ruthless. A manipulator with zero warmth. But you latched onto the Armored Man's fame like a parasite—becoming his first public supporter. I gave you that chance. That was my move on the galactic chessboard.
But don't disappoint me. You're just a piece. And Palpatine…? Planners like you always suffer a twisted fate when you meet someone truly insane.
And that someone… is Ranulph Tarkin himself.
A second chancellor sharing power with you—forced to co-rule, forced to compromise. Imagine that, Palpatine. Imagine being outplayed on your own stage.
A two-chancellor system. Your worst nightmare, dressed as formality.
Isn't it beautiful? That the man you can't control… is the one you must work with.
How's that for a headache?
Padmé's voice broke through his thoughts. "Jin-Woo, you've been staring off in silence again. It's… kind of creepy. Like your Masked Man persona."
Jin-Woo blinked once, then gave a sheepish smile. "Ah—sorry, sorry. Don't mind it."
He leaned back a little. "So… what do you think of Anakin?"
Padmé shrugged lightly. "I think he's a good boy."
Jin-Woo raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
Padmé gave him a pointed look. "What do you expect me to say? That he's also a promising podracer? That he might lose and cost your little empire at the Lucky Despot?" She smirked faintly. "Which, by the way, was a very dangerous move—making that kind of bet, Jin-Woo."
Jin-Woo didn't respond out loud. But inwardly, a thread of satisfaction curled through him. That's a very good outcome… She's worrying about my stakes, my risks… That means she's on her way. My fourth wife slot… the quest will complete itself. She'll fall in love eventually. I can already see it forming. And Anakin… I still think he's unstable. Dude choked his own wife to death in another life. 'Revenge of the Sith' was a shitstorm .
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
After some time, beneath the quiet shimmer of the night sky atop the Skywalker quarters' rooftop, Jin-Woo sat with one leg drawn up, arms resting casually on his knee. Beside him sat a presence that radiated peace yet held the weight of eternity—The Daughter, embodiment of light, of balance, and the child of the Mortis Gods.
Jin-Woo broke the silence first. "So… you chose to sit beside me. Even knowing I'm your enemy?"
The Daughter tilted her head slightly, the corners of her lips forming the faintest smile. "I believe everyone deserves a home," she said. "Even an invader from beyond this galaxy."
Jin-Woo said nothing for a moment. Just let the words hang in the starlit silence.
Then, footsteps approached.
Qui-Gon Jinn appeared behind them, his usual solemn expression softened by the serenity of the night. Without a word, he sat beside them, folding his hands in his lap as he looked upward. "The sky is very beautiful, isn't it?" he said, voice quiet, but full of thought.
Jin-Woo nodded slightly, still gazing upward. "The sky does look clear when it's night."
Then he turned slightly, casting a glance toward the Jedi Master. "Qui-Gon… you already checked the brat's midichlorian count, right?"
Qui-Gon sighed. "He's not a brat, Jin-Woo. He's a very strong kid." He looked to the Daughter and nodded once. "And what you said was true. Anakin… is the Chosen One. His midichlorian count is off the charts."
The Daughter, ever calm, added, "Off the charts—but it didn't reach thirty thousand. Probably close to it."
Jin-Woo exhaled faintly. "Twenty-seven thousand five hundred. That's the actual number, if your scanner had been upgraded. Your current device can only read up to twenty-thousand or maybe twenty-two-five at best. That's why it just says 'off the charts.'"
Qui-Gon leaned back, gazing at the night sky. "Jin-Woo… we still need that hyperdrive part for your ship. And you forgot to add that to the bet with Watto."
Jin-Woo smirked. "Actually… I already did."
With a flick of his wrist, a small holorecording activated in midair—showing his earlier negotiation with Watto. His voice echoed from the projection:
"If the boy wins the Boonta Classic, I get the hyperdrive part… and freedom for both him and his mother."
The projection faded. Qui-Gon blinked once.
"You work very fast, Jin-Woo."
Jin-Woo shrugged. "I was about to say he needed to equalize the bet by throwing in the hyperdrive part—but then a Gorog decided to crash the party and attack Mos Espa, right?"
The Daughter turned her head slowly, eyes fixed on him in silence. Everything that's happened on this planet… most of it started because of you, she thought.
Qui-Gon chuckled faintly. "You're very fast at… arranging things. You sure your midichlorian count is zero? From what I see, you're very good at hiding things."
Jin-Woo gave a grin. "An opera actor has his own trade secrets, Master Jedi."
Qui-Gon smirked. "A hero who mocks the Jedi… but still calls me 'Master Jedi.' That's very sarcastic."
Jin-Woo laughed. "That's how I jab someone. Gotta keep you sharp."
——
INTERIOR — MOS ESPA ARENA — MAIN HANGAR — DAY
The vast hangar buzzed with energy and anticipation. It was a sprawling structure filled with clamor—ALIEN CREWS and PILOTS scurried in every direction, making last-minute adjustments to their Podracers. Sparks flew from welders, engine cores throbbed with power, and the scent of oil and heated metal hung thick in the air.
Jin-Woo walked alongside Qui-Gon, both of them weaving through the organized chaos.
Qui-Gon spoke with a glance sideways. "Jin-Woo… after all this Trade Federation mess is dealt with—could you and the Jedi Order… maybe find a way to make peace with each other?"
Jin-Woo raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't even like the Jedi Order. You and the Council nearly had a brawl. And I never had a problem with them… right?"
Qui-Gon huffed. "The Jedi… are not brutes like you."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"However, the Armored Man persona you keep parading around? It's damaging the Jedi reputation. I'm sorry to say it, but… could you, maybe, say some good things about us?"
Jin-Woo snorted. "Qui-Gon, the Council is retarded. You and I both know it. But still—you'd rather defend them than walk away?" "You're loyal. I'll give you that."
Qui-Gon smirked, his voice dropping to a joking tone as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Come on, can you do that for me?" he said with a hint of playful plea. "I've kept your identity secret, after all. If I hadn't, you'd be plastered all over the HoloNet—'Hero of Galaxy Jin-woo ,' chased by reporters instead of Hutts."
Jin-Woo opened his mouth, ready to answer.
But then— "Outlander!" a familiar voice rasped out.
They both turned to see Watto flapping toward them, goggles askew, grin wide.
"Who you gonna favor to win, eh? Got any credits riding on this?"
Jin-Woo's expression flatlined. Completely deadpan. He didn't say a word.
Qui-Gon, unable to help himself, gave a small chuckle. I guess this is the first time Jin-Woo's been completely dominated in a conversation… he thought, amused.
Jin-Woo's expression didn't change. voice came sharp and mocking. "Who will you favor, fat drake?"
Watto flinched slightly, his wings buzzing a bit louder as he tried to maintain composure despite the jab. "Sebulba," he grunted, rubbing his hands together. "He always wins. Best pilot on the track."
Jin-Woo tilted his head. "Then I'll favor Anakin… in this Boonta Classic."
Watto snorted, a grin creeping across his beak. "That slave boy? He barely does anything—nothing more than a slave." He flapped higher, confidence returning. "But I'm not here to boast my victory, no no… You only bet one ship. But I had to stake a hyperdrive part… and two of my slaves. The boy, and his mother."
Watto reached into his pouch and pulled out a single die—its surface painted mostly red, with only one side colored blue. "Let fate decide, eh? If the red lights up—it's the mother. But if the blue—"
Before he could finish, the atmosphere shifted. The lights in the hangar flickered. Then, with a heavy hum, they cut out entirely—plunging the vast chamber into darkness.
Watto froze, blinking rapidly in the gloom. "Wh-What the—?"
Qui-Gon stepped forward cautiously, voice steady but low. "Jin-Woo… let's not get hasty—"
But Jin-Woo didn't speak. He simply raised a single hand—palm open, fingers spread.
A wordless gesture of silence.