It wasn't anger that consumed him—it was fear.
Yet the cruelest part of it all was knowing the truth. It had been he who had pushed her away, he who had rejected the tender heart she had so vulnerably offered him.
And he had not wanted to. Every fiber of him had wanted to accept it, to hold it close. But he couldn't—not then, not under the weight of circumstances he hated with all his being.
The memory of that choice pressed on him now like an open wound, and he loathed the situation, the politics, the chains of duty that had forced his hand.
Jade exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on his chest.
"Even if I push for an early appointment of the state consort… even if Her Majesty were to agree… there's no guarantee that the chosen person would be me, my lord."
Kim Jin froze, his eyes fixed on Jade with an anxious intensity. The implication struck like a hammer. If someone else were to become Queen Genie's husband—the state consort of the Hana Kingdom—everything Kim Jin had built, all the influence he had painstakingly cultivated in the Ash Kingdom, could collapse in an instant.
He swallowed hard, his throat tightening.
"D-Do you mean… the queen already has someone else in mind for state consort?"
Jade's jaw clenched, but he gave no direct answer. Instead, he released a long, weary sigh, heavy with unspoken truths.
Kim Jin leaned forward, waiting, desperate for clarification.
"I don't know," Jade finally said, his voice low, threaded with exhaustion. "But one thing is certain: even if I request that Her Majesty hasten the appointment now, the chances of me becoming the state consort are… slim."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, taut and suffocating. Kim Jin forced himself to take a deep breath, tamping down the rising panic.
"Then… I shall inform the Ash Kingdom that it is too soon to press the matter. A-Aside from that… is there anything else I should know?"
Jade's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes shadowed. He bit his lip as if to keep the truth from spilling out.
"No, sir."
He had no intention of revealing more—certainly nothing that might harm Queen Genie, not her reputation, not her position, and especially not her heart. Some burdens, he decided, were his alone to bear.
Late at night, the training ground lay under a silver sheen of moonlight, quiet except for the sharp thwack of wooden swords and the ragged breathing of Wanan and Hanan. Their shadows stretched long across the dirt floor, twisting and clashing in rhythm with their movements.
Wanan lunged forward, his muscles coiling like a spring, and leaped high into the air. His wooden practice sword cut through the darkness with a sharp whoosh, aimed straight at Hanan's shoulder.
Hanan pivoted sharply, his body twisting just enough for the strike to slice past him, grazing the edge of his sleeve. Using the momentum, he planted his foot and launched a rough kick toward Wanan's abdomen.
"—Ugh!"
The kick landed. Wanan staggered, his breath catching as pain rippled through his midsection. For an instant, his balance faltered and he bent forward, one knee dipping toward the ground.
Hanan's eyes widened, his expression breaking from focus to worry.
"A-Are you okay…?"
Wanan straightened slowly, brushing the dirt from his sleeve with a faint grin tugging at his lips.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his breath.
Hanan let out a slow sigh of relief, lowering his guard just slightly.
It had been only two months since the tournament where they had taken first and second place—Wanan as champion, Hanan close behind. Their victories had earned them positions as royal bodyguards for Queen Genie's secret journey to the Ash Kingdom, an honor granted to only the most skilled.
Hanan had lost to Wanan in the very first preliminary round but had gone on to win every match thereafter, clawing his way to second place. That shared experience had brought them here, training apart from the other guards for nearly two months.
For Hanan, who had long struggled to bond with the other warriors of the Hana Kingdom, the unexpected friendship with Wanan had come as a quiet surprise—a camaraderie built from sweat, bruises, and countless late-night sparring sessions.
But his moment of reflection shattered when Wanan, who had appeared to be catching his breath, suddenly charged without warning. His eyes sharpened, his wooden sword a blur as he swung with no hesitation or mercy.
The dull thud of boots on the dusty training ground echoed in the still air.
Whoosh—
A wooden sword sliced through the space where his shoulder had been a heartbeat ago.
His eyes widened.
"What on earth…?!"
He stumbled back, stunned, heart hammering against his ribs.
Across from him, Wanan stood tall, breath steady, eyes sharp. The wooden sword still hung in the air, held high like a thunderbolt frozen before the strike. A flicker of amusement danced at the corner of his mouth.
"Not bad," Wanan said, his voice calm, but laced with unspoken challenge.
It hit Hanan like a cold splash of water. He was testing me.
A shaky, almost helpless laugh slipped from Hanan's lips. He hadn't expected this level of sharpness—nor kindness—from the man he'd once seen only as a rival.
Wanan lowered the sword, his face hardening into solemn resolve. Slowly, he stepped forward, his boots stirring the dust between them.
Then, without hesitation, he extended his hand.
"Let us devote our lives together to protecting Her Majesty, our Queen."
For a moment, time slowed.
Hanan's gaze dropped to the offered hand, calloused and scarred—earned through loyalty, forged through countless battles. A warrior's hand. A brother's trust.
But his heart twisted.
Behind Wanan's unwavering loyalty stood another truth. One that Hanan could not ignore.
'The Queen… He's so loyal to her.'
A pang of guilt surged in his chest like a blade pressing into flesh. Wanan had no idea. No idea of the secret Hanan carried. The lies hidden in his silence.
'I must not forget why I came here…'
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Then, swallowing the bitter weight in his throat, he reached out and gripped Wanan's hand.
"Alright," he said, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift, "let's do our best."
Their hands clasped between truth and deception, trust and betrayal.
The sun dipped behind the barracks, casting long shadows across the ground.
As dusk bled across the horizon, the kingdom's administrative office glowed with the amber light of oil lamps. Shadows of ornate pillars stretched long and thin, cutting through the chamber like silent sentinels.
A circle of high-ranking officials sat around the polished jadewood table—department heads in ceremonial robes, noble representatives adorned with family crests, and Jade, the formidable head of the military whose very presence commanded respect. Scrolls and wax-sealed documents were spread across the table, their red ribbons flickering in the lamplight.
The meeting had flowed smoothly so far: discussions of harvest quotas, coastal fortifications, trade tariffs—all handled with a bureaucrat's cold efficiency. But then Minister Lee Bae-won raised his hand.
"There is one more matter I wish to discuss."
His words, calm but deliberate, pierced the room's measured rhythm.
All eyes turned to him. Even the faint scratching of a scribe's brush halted.
Lee Bae-won rose slightly, his brocade sleeves trailing like banners of authority. "I propose we resume the royal consort appointment process, which was halted due to the invasion of the Ash Kingdom."
A ripple passed through the chamber. Jade flinched, his gaze snapping up from the table.
'The Ash Kingdom's envoy… Kim Jin's request was the same. Resume the consort appointment… And now Lee Bae-won voices it too?'
The officials exchanged glances, their expressions measured but not without spark—interest, calculation, perhaps even intrigue.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs leaned forward, carrying a note of urgency.
"I agree. I, too, have been concerned that the royal consort appointment process was halted at its final stage due to the Ash Kingdom's sudden assault. For the sake of national stability, Her Majesty should proceed with appointing the royal consort."
Minister Han Son, seated at the head of the long jadewood table, straightened his back and clasped his hands together. His voice, low and deliberate, carried across the chamber with the weight of finality.
"Thank you for raising such an important issue," he said, his tone solemn enough to still the quiet murmurs lingering in the room. "However, this is ultimately a matter where Her Majesty's opinion is paramount."
For the briefest moment, Han Son's eyes found Jade's. It was fleeting—like the glint of steel under moonlight—but enough to send an unspoken message.
Then Han Son's gaze swept back over the gathered officials.
"Her Majesty already bears much on her mind. The upcoming cultural envoy mission to normalize relations with the Ash Kingdom, the growing bandit activity in the border provinces, and sweeping reforms for our academy system… I wonder if it is wise to present a new agenda to Her Majesty while she is already so burdened."
A faint rustle of silk and parchment followed his words as the officials shifted in their seats.