Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Onny blinked.
Lee Jan, flustered, hurriedly spoke to the queen.
"Your Majesty, how could my attendant possibly remember such details? She probably just went to the market to prepare a meal. She was very shocked at that time. Isn't she still trembling?"
Onny nodded repeatedly, trembling and blushing.
Genie walked with composed grace, her royal robes trailing softly behind her like waves of midnight silk. The guards and her attendants kept pace, but none dared speak. Genie's expression was unreadable—calm on the surface, but beneath that, a quiet storm churned. Her eyes were clear now. Clearer than they had been in days.
They passed the outer gates of Ju Tak's residence, the once-imposing walls now seeming small in her presence.
"Let us go," she had said—firm, resolved.
Behind them, Lee Jan stood at the threshold of the gate, her painted smile now gone, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace. She watched Queen Genie disappear down the stone-paved path with a knot of unease tightening in her gut.
Behind her, Onny stood trembling like a branch caught in the autumn breeze. Her hands were clammy, his face pale. The moment Queen Genie's figure faded from view, she let out a shaky breath, barely above a whisper.
"Is it all... all over now...?"
Lee Jan spun around, her expression harsh.
"How can you be like this...? Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut? One wrong word, and we're finished!" Her voice was low, trembling not with fear—but fury.
Then she caught herself, glancing back toward the gate as if the Queen might still be within earshot. She swallowed her rage, pressing her palm to her chest to still the frantic pounding of her heart.
"N-Never mind," she muttered. "I guess we won't have to come back again. Let's go inside."
She swept past Onny and into the house, but the clack of her shoes against the wooden floor betrayed her agitation.
Onny lingered behind. Her gaze remained fixed on the path where Queen Genie had walked just moments ago.
A part of her wished he had said more. A part of her wished he had told the truth. Queen Genie's warm, steady gaze still lingered in her mind like sunlight after a storm.
Quietly, under her breath, as if the wind might carry her confession to her.
"Your Majesty… I-I am sorry..."
But she was gone.
And inside the grand walls of deception, the house of Ju Tak grew a little colder.
Back in her private office, Queen Genie stood quietly by the window, her gaze scanning the royal calendar spread open across the table. Her delicate fingers traced the dates, stopping at the second week of September. Her eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful and calculating.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Your Majesty," Chief Han said, stepping in with a hesitant air. "I am not sure if my memory serves me right, but… there is something I hesitate to say."
Genie turned from the window and faced him, her expression composed but alert.
"What is it, Chief Han?"
Chief Han cleared her throat, glancing briefly at Lady Park before speaking. "It's about the attendant of Lady Lee Jan—the one we saw earlier in her study. I thought she looked familiar. And I believe… she is the same person Your Majesty encountered just a few days ago, when you left the administration office."
Lady Park's eyes widened in sudden recognition.
"Yes! That's right! I just remembered now as well!"
At once, Genie's eyes lit up with clarity, and her mind snapped to the memory like a steel trap.
A girl in servant's clothes—nervous, breathless, carrying what seemed to be a heavy piece of embroidered fabric—glancing around furtively before dashing across the royal courtyard.
Genie turned swiftly to them.
"Was the attendant holding a large piece of clothing at the time?"
"Yes, I believe so. She was clutching a robe, almost dragging it, and appeared in quite a hurry to leave the palace," Chief Han replied.
"I think I saw that too!" Lady Park exclaimed, her voice full of urgency.
Genie's pulse quickened. The implications began connecting like threads in a tapestry.
"A garment…" she murmured. "That timing… That garment... it couldn't have been... Jade's?"
She struck her palm against the table with force, the loud thud echoing through the room.
"Bring me Lee Jan's attendant. Immediately," she commanded, her voice sharp with newfound resolve.
Chief Han bowed and rushed out. Lady Park followed, her face pale but determined.
Left alone in the room, Genie stared at the calendar once more.
If her memory and instinct were right, then this entire accusation may have been built on a lie—and that lie was about to unravel.
At that time, Jade stood tall upon the raised platform of the palace training ground, his figure framed against the steel-gray sky of early winter. The cold wind tugged at the hem of his cloak, and a fine frost clung stubbornly to the grass, refusing to melt even under the waning sun. Evening had not yet fallen, but the light was already dimming, the heavens cloaked in a somber hue that mirrored the weight in his chest.
He watched the First Army move in precise formation across the wide yard, every movement a result of discipline honed by repetition—but he saw the fatigue etched into their faces, the subtle tremble in their limbs from relentless drills and biting wind. Jade raised his hand at once.
"That's enough for today," he called, his voice firm yet gentle. "You've all done well. Dismissed—go get your dinner."
The soldiers straightened immediately, saluting in unison with the practiced respect they always showed him. Then, like the tide receding from the shore, they filed off toward the mess hall in ordered lines, weary but obedient.
Jade remained still on the platform, his eyes lingering on their backs until they disappeared into the shadows of the palace walls. A faint ache pressed against his heart—a strange mix of pride and isolation.
He had once believed that duty would be enough to carry him through any storm. But now, with whispers swirling in the corridors of power and distrust clouding even the queen's eyes, he stood like a solitary statue carved from ice.
"Minister."
The voice behind him was soft but steady. Danjin stepped up beside him, boots crunching lightly on the frostbitten stone.
"Why don't you go eat now too?" Danjin asked, glancing at him with gentle concern.
"I'm fine," Jade replied quietly, not turning. "You go first."
Danjin hesitated.
"Minister, you haven't eaten since yesterday. Even if you're tired, you must keep your strength… especially in times like this."
Jade offered a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I appreciate it. But I can manage. Go on."
Danjin looked at him for a long moment, then took a slow breath.
"Minister… just know this. I—and the entire First Army—we trust you. No matter what the others say."
For the first time in days, something stirred in Jade's expression. The tightness in his jaw eased. The loneliness that clung to him like shadow seemed, for a heartbeat, a little less crushing.
"Thank you," he said, his voice quiet but sincere. "Your words… give me strength."
With a small bow, Danjin turned and descended from the platform, walking toward the mess hall with a lingering glance of apology.
Jade remained behind, staring out over the empty training ground. The wind swept across the stone, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and bowls clinking in the mess hall—a sound that seemed to come from a world far removed from his own.
He closed his eyes.
'Thank you… for saying you trust me. Even when it feels like no one else does.'
At that moment, the cold, distant image of Queen Genie surfaced once more in Jade's mind.
'Your Majesty...'
Just the thought of her was enough to send a dull ache through his chest. Not from anger, nor pride, but something deeper—an ache sharpened by misunderstanding and the painful distance that now stood between them like a frozen wall.
He remembered how her eyes, once soft and curious when she was younger, had now grown unreadable. As queen, she had mastered the art of composure, but Jade could still sense the weight behind her silences. And it crushed him to know that now, of all times, she likely saw him not as an old protector, not even as a comrade—but as a man accused.
With a quiet sigh, Jade brought himself back to the present.
'The ledger.'
A sharp flicker of duty cut through his thoughts. The military ledger—detailing troop movements, supplies, and winter readiness—was due to be delivered to the queen. He had meant to bring it earlier, but the training had consumed his attention. No matter the tension between them, no matter the unspoken questions in her gaze, his responsibility as Minister of the Military remained.
His brow furrowed slightly.
'Even if she no longer trusts me... I must still serve her.'
Swallowing the tightness in his throat, Jade turned briskly from the training platform. The edges of his cloak whipped behind him as he descended the steps and strode across the palace yard, boots crunching on frost-hardened gravel.
The chill in the evening air bit at his skin, but he welcomed it. It helped him focus. Helped him forget, even for a moment, the weight pressing down on him from every side—suspicion, betrayal, and memories he could neither erase nor fully explain.
He made his way toward the military office in silence, the fading light casting long, solemn shadows across the empty corridors.
'No matter what it costs... I will protect her.'
With that vow burning quietly in his heart, Jade reached for the door to the office and disappeared inside to retrieve the ledger.