She turned her face into her pillow, ashamed of her own weakness.
'I am the queen… I shouldn't fall apart over this.'
But grief cared nothing for titles or crowns. It simply ached.
"Your Majesty…" Chief Han's voice called again, softer this time, laced with concern. "I'll come back a little later, then."
There was a pause, a faint sigh, then the sound of retreating footsteps.
Outside, Chief Han's expression darkened as she turned to the waiting court maids.
"Do not disturb Her Majesty for now," she instructed firmly.
The maids bowed their heads in silent understanding, stepping back from the doors with solemn expressions.
Chief Han turned back once more, gazing at the heavy double doors of the queen's chamber. Her thoughts lingered on the memory of the previous night. When Her Majesty had stepped out of the prayer room, her lips had carried a faint, practiced smile—but her eyes… her eyes had betrayed sorrow so deep it unsettled everyone around her.
The court ladies had noticed it too, trailing her quietly back to her quarters without a word, sensing instinctively that their queen was not to be disturbed.
And then there was Jade. Chief Han had seen him entering the prayer room shortly after the queen had gone inside.
Her brow furrowed, a shadow of worry passing through her eyes.
'Something happened between Her Majesty and Minister Jade…'
She pondered deeply as she made her way toward the royal kitchen, her footsteps slow and deliberate, echoing softly in the quiet corridor.
The kitchen, in contrast, was alive with energy—pots clanging, knives chopping in a rhythmic beat, and the warm scent of freshly baked bread mingling with steam from simmering broths. The court laides moved quickly from counter to counter, their hands a blur as they prepared Queen Genie's breakfast.
At the center of it all stood Enna, the newly appointed overseer of royal meals. Her sleeves were neatly rolled up, her hands dusted faintly with flour as she instructed two junior cooks on the morning spread.
Chief Han approached her with a calm but firm voice.
"Master Cook, prepare breakfast a little later today."
Enna paused, turning toward her with a worried tilt of her head.
"Is Her Majesty unwell…?"
"No, nothing like that. She just seems a bit tired. I'll return when it's time for her meal."
Chief Han left as quickly as she came, leaving behind a silence that lingered for a brief moment before Enna bowed toward her retreating figure.
'Is Her Majesty unwell?' she wondered, biting her lip slightly.
Turning to one of the court ladies who was reaching for a teacup, she spoke softly but decisively.
"Let's serve Her Majesty a different tea today."
The court lady paused mid-motion, glancing up in question.
Enna pulled open a drawer and sifted through the ingredients, her fingers brushing past jars of dried herbs and spices until she found what she wanted.
"Ginger tea," she said at last, almost to herself. "I'll prepare it personally."
Soon after, the breakfast tray was arranged and carefully carried to the queen's chambers.
Genie sat before the table, her posture composed yet betraying fatigue. She rubbed gently at her swollen eyes, fingers pausing for a moment as if the tenderness of the skin reminded her of the tears she had shed.
Chief Han and Lady Park stood nearby, their gazes heavy with concern.
"Your Majesty, are you all right…?" Chief Han ventured in a soft voice.
Genie raised her eyes, quickly smoothing her expression into calm neutrality as if her question was puzzling.
"Of course," she replied, her voice gentle but distant. "I suppose I didn't get enough sleep after coming in so late last night."
Lady Park, wise enough to know when not to pry, glanced briefly at the faint redness around her queen's eyes—clear signs of a night spent crying—and then lowered her gaze, pretending not to notice.
Sensing her unspoken wish for solitude, both attendants bowed and quietly withdrew, leaving the queen alone with the breakfast tray.
Genie reached for the porcelain cup of ginger tea. Its warmth seeped into her chilled hands, the fragrant steam rising to meet her face like a soft embrace. She stared at it for a long moment, then forced her lips into a small, weary smile.
'It's fine,' she told herself. 'It's okay. I can handle this.'
The tea was sweet and warming, but her heart still felt painfully cold.
Genie curved her lips into the best smile she could muster and lifted the cup to her mouth. The steam curled against her cheeks like a gentle whisper, and the warmth of the ginger tea seeped slowly into her chilled body, spreading down her throat and into the hollow ache of her chest.
"Really… I'm okay." Her voice trembled, soft enough to be mistaken for a sigh.
She smiled again—this time harder, as if sheer will could keep her together.
But it was useless.
A single tear slipped past her lashes and splashed onto the table's polished surface, leaving behind a trembling circle of water. Then another fell, and another, until her quiet world was speckled with tears.
No matter how desperately she tried to blink them back, they came—uncontrollable, relentless, like the storm she had fought alone the night before.
She wanted to laugh it off, to call it nothing, to say it was just fatigue or stress from the endless duties of the crown. But she couldn't lie to herself. This pain wasn't nothing. It was everything.
With trembling hands, she placed the cup back on the table, the ceramic clinking softly against the wood. Then, lowering her head, she allowed the dam to break completely.
The tears fell heavier now, sliding down her cheeks and striking the table in muted, rhythmic drops. They blurred her reflection on the glossy wood, as if even her image could not bear to meet her own eyes.
"Why am I… acting so foolish…?" Her voice was hoarse, strangled by sorrow.
And so, in the quiet morning light streaming faintly through the royal chamber's windows, the queen who bore the weight of a nation wept—not as a ruler, but as a woman whose heart had been shattered.
Her morning, like the night before, was filled with tears.
At the very same hour, Jade stood at the edge of the training grounds, overseeing the morning martial drills. His brow was furrowed deeply, the weight of unspoken worries pressing down on his features like a shadow. The crisp air of dawn bit lightly at his skin, but it was the turmoil inside him that chilled his heart.
Warriors began to gather in tight groups, their armor clinking softly as they prepared for practice, the rhythmic beat of footsteps and swords slicing through the morning stillness. Amid the rising clamor, Danjin approached cautiously, his eyes sharp yet filled with concern.
"Minister," he called softly, stepping beside Jade with careful steps. "Is something wrong?"
Jade's lips pressed into a thin line. He forced a faint, controlled smile and quickly smoothed over the storm brewing inside.
"No, nothing at all."
But Danjin's gaze did not waver. His eyes searched Jade's face as if trying to peel back the layers of pretense.
"You seem troubled today, sir."
A flicker of frustration stirred in Jade's chest.
'I thought I was hiding it well, he thought bitterly. I tried to act like everything was fine… but clearly, I can't fool anyone.'
That familiar ache, raw and unyielding, gnawed at his heart once more.
Yet, despite the heaviness within the palace walls, the outside world was awakening. Spring had quietly crept into the kingdom, painting the barren branches with tender shoots of green. The harsh, biting cold of winter had finally loosened its grip, melting away like a distant memory.
Queen Genie stepped gracefully from the royal hall, the soft sunlight wrapping around her like a gentle embrace. The warmth embraced her skin, and a serene smile spread across her face as she breathed in the fresh spring air.
"It truly feels like spring now," she murmured, her voice a soothing melody to the attendants who followed her quietly.
She lifted her gaze toward the budding branches overhead, her eyes tracing the delicate blossoms unfurling along the palace paths—silent heralds of renewal and hope amid a world forever turning.
At that moment, Moonsen appeared from a distance, his face radiant with a cheerful glow that seemed to brighten the very air around him.
"Your Majesty, you're here," he called out gently, his voice carrying a note of eager anticipation. "Shall we go? Everyone is waiting for you."
With a graceful nod, Queen Genie fell into step behind Moonsen, followed closely by her attendants, as they made their way toward the grand Ministry of Foreign Affairs building. The gentle breeze of spring stirred the hem of her robes, carrying with it the scent of fresh blossoms and new beginnings.
Moonsen inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness of the air, his voice light and optimistic.
"Your Majesty, it seems the harsh grip of winter has finally loosened. The spring sunlight feels so warm, so full of life."
Queen Genie smiled, a soft warmth spreading across her features as she tilted her head back to gaze at the vast expanse of blue above them.
"Indeed, it has," she replied, her voice calm and serene.