Without hesitation, the elite warriors sprang to their feet and surged forward, their boots thundering against the wooden floor as they disappeared into the house's interior.
Jade instinctively turned to follow them, his body still ready to fight—despite the wounds, despite the fatigue.
But suddenly, a hand clutched his sleeve.
"No, don't!" Genie's voice cracked like glass, raw and trembling.
Startled, Jade stopped in his tracks and turned toward her. His eyes met hers—wide, filled with something he couldn't quite name.
Moonsen, just beside them, paused as well, his brows furrowed in surprise.
Genie's grip didn't loosen. Her fingers clung to the fabric of Jade's sleeve as if anchoring him to the ground. Her voice softened, but the ache behind it deepened.
"…You're still in pain… aren't you?"
The sorrow in her voice was almost unbearable.
Jade's expression faltered. His eyes searched hers, then dropped briefly, unable to hide the truth. He didn't answer with words—but he didn't need to.
His silence was louder than anything he could've said.
Moonsen, watching quietly, felt his own chest tighten. He looked away for a moment, the raw emotion in the scene catching even him off guard.
In the heart of the academy's central courtyard, beneath the gray wash of the afternoon sky, the technical instructor knelt on the stone-paved ground, head bowed, eyes fixed firmly downward. His once-proud posture had crumbled into one of defeat, his hands trembling faintly behind him, bound in thick rope.
Two elite warriors stood as sentinels—one at his back, the other before him—swords drawn, eyes sharp. The hum of tension buzzed quietly in the heavy silence that cloaked the courtyard.
Jade and Moonsen stood at either side of Queen Genie, their expressions unreadable. Though both bore the marks of exhaustion from the recent battle, their eyes remained alert—watchful for even the slightest shift in the prisoner's demeanor.
Earlier, after regaining consciousness, Jade had quietly relayed to Genie everything he had overheard while imprisoned in the underground dungeon of Bingo. Every whispered word from the technical instructor, every chilling detail.
And now, with the full picture before her, the pieces finally aligned in Genie's mind. The lifeless stares of the villagers. The strange behavior. The eerie quietness that had blanketed the coastal village like a fog.
'To think such unimaginable evil was taking place behind those calm shores…'
Her stomach twisted at the memory.
She stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute, ringing through the courtyard like a bell of judgment.
"You know better than anyone what crimes you've committed."
The technical instructor remained silent. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face, but his fingers clenched slightly behind his back.
Genie's gaze sharpened.
"I know it was you—and your men—who made General Seo and me collapse in the guest room of the academy. You poisoned the food we ate at the tavern the day before."
Still, he said nothing. His silence, in itself, a reluctant admission.
"You waited until we lost consciousness… and then locked us away in that room on purpose," she continued, her voice growing colder. "It was all part of your plan."
The man's jaw tightened, but no words left his lips.
"In the end, you had us transferred to the prison in Bingo to be used as test subjects." Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from controlled rage. "And since I wasn't one of your villagers… you were going to sell me across the sea like cargo. Am I wrong?"
The question hung in the air like a dagger.
Still, no answer.
But his silence had changed—it was no longer composed. A flicker of unease twitched across his brow.
Genie narrowed her eyes.
"…But I also know you weren't acting alone. Someone gave the order. Someone above you."
At that, the man's gaze, so long frozen on the ground, wavered.
It was subtle—barely a movement—but Genie saw it. So did Jade. So did Moonsen.
The Queen took one more step forward.
The winds stirred slightly, sweeping her cloak around her ankles.
"I'll ask again," she said, her voice a whisper now, dangerous and sharp, "Who gave the command?"
And for the first time, the technical instructor blinked—his lips parting, not in defiance, but hesitation.
"Who gave you the orders for all this?"
Queen Genie's voice rang out, sharp as a blade slicing through still air.
The technical instructor flinched, his head still bowed, the tremble in his lips betraying the storm brewing beneath his silence. He remained on his knees, spine stiff but spirit broken, as the courtyard seemed to still around him.
Yet, in that heavy silence, there was no true mystery left.
Genie didn't ask because she didn't know—she asked because the truth needed to be spoken aloud.
She, Jade, and Moonsen had all come to the same quiet conclusion.
From the moment they arrived in the coastal village, they had felt it—that oppressive, heavy presence that loomed behind every lifeless stare of the villagers, behind every hushed whisper and hidden corridor. It was not the instructor before them who pulled the strings.
It had always been Elder Choi.
The seemingly benevolent patriarch of the village.
The man who had welcomed them with open arms, whose eyes carried centuries of calm—and yet masked something far colder beneath.
'He was the one watching. He was the one commanding.'
The Queen's eyes narrowed, her gaze unyielding as she waited.
Jade and Moonsen exchanged a brief glance. They, too, had sensed it. They no longer needed confirmation. But justice demanded it be said aloud—for the people, for the victims, for the truth to hold weight.
At last, after what felt like an eternity of silence, the technical instructor's mouth opened.
A dry breath escaped.
"If Your Majesty promises not to hold me accountable for my sins… I will speak." The man's voice quivered like a leaf in the wind, his knees already pressing into the cold stone floor as if hoping to melt into it.
His eyes darted upward—pleading, searching, calculating.
'As expected, a cowardly man,' Genie thought, her lips tightening as her gaze bore into him.
The room fell still, the silence stretching between them like a taut string ready to snap. She didn't answer right away.
Jade shifted uneasily beside her, the edge of his blade still glinting with tension. Moonsen, arms folded, watched quietly, though his furrowed brow betrayed his disbelief. This was no ordinary confession they were about to hear.
After a moment's quiet deliberation, Genie gave a slow nod.
"Very well," she said, her voice measured. "If you confess everything truthfully… I will not hold you accountable for your crimes."
Jade's head snapped toward her. Moonsen, too, turned, eyes wide with incredulity.
'She won't punish him…?' Jade's thoughts raced. He looked at the Queen with a mix of admiration and confusion. Was this mercy? Or strategy?
The technical instructor inhaled, a shuddering breath filling his lungs like it might be his last. But her words had given him strength—just enough to speak.
"Your Majesty," he began, voice steadier now, "everything… everything was orchestrated by Elder Choi—the head of this coastal village."
As he spoke, the weight of the truth seemed to settle into the room, one heavy stone at a time.
"As Your Majesty already knows, our village is one of the wealthiest in all of the Hana Kingdom's coastal provinces. This is thanks to the sea—its generous resources and abundant fish. Whether farmer or fisherman, everyone here has lived in relative comfort. Naturally, our school flourished, and children came from both noble bloodlines and humble origins."
He paused, voice beginning to tremble again.
"But about a year ago… a ship docked at our port. Not one of ours. A foreign vessel—its hull weathered, its crew strangers in both appearance and tongue. We interrogated them, of course, and searched every crevice of the ship."
He swallowed hard, glancing at Genie again, as though seeking her approval—her belief.
"They claimed it was a fishing vessel… but inside we found no fish. Only strange packets. Small, delicate, and filled with some kind of… powder. Something we couldn't identify."
He clenched his fists, as if reliving the helplessness.
"I told Elder Choi immediately. I insisted—we had to inform the palace at once."
"And then…?" the Queen prompted, her voice low.
He hesitated, but the truth had begun its journey—it could no longer be held back.
"Elder Choi… he silenced me. Said it was too early to report anything. He took the foreigners into his own home, saying he would 'handle it.' A few days later, they disappeared—sent back to their ship, and the ship vanished into the sea."
The instructor's voice dropped, hoarse with shame.
"A month later… he began testing the powder. On the commoner children at the academy."
A gasp escaped someone's lips—perhaps Jade's. The room thickened with horror.
"At first, it was subtle," the man continued, his shoulders sagging. "Strange symptoms, odd behaviors. But soon… Elder Choi began pushing the dosage. His obsession grew. He wanted to know what the powder could do. He claimed it could make the mind sharper, the body stronger, even cure disease. But what I saw…"
He turned slowly to Jade.