"All rise for Her Majesty!" a voice called out.
Inspector Wooki was the first to bow.
"Your Majesty," he greeted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Behind him, the deputy inspectors dropped into a deep, unified bow. The sound of knees hitting the cold stone floor reverberated across the chamber.
Wooki, once bold and outspoken, now kept his head lowered. Memories of the past flickered painfully behind his eyes—how he had believed the lies spun by Lee Jan, how he had stood against Jade, and how the Queen, instead of punishing him, had chosen mercy.
That grace had haunted him more than any punishment could have.
Now, standing before her again, Wooki found his voice caught in his throat. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.
"Have you been well?" Queen Genie's voice rang clear through the hall—gentle, unjudging, as if she'd reached across time and brushed away the dust of regret from his shoulders.
Wooki's throat tightened at the sound. Her warmth was unexpected, and it disarmed him more than any stern rebuke.
Still bowed, he managed a nod.
"Thanks to Your Majesty's great mercy, I have been well," he said. His voice trembled despite his best efforts.
Genie observed him quietly. She could see it clearly—how the incident had left him chastened. And she had no intention of dredging up the past to shame him. She had already chosen to extend her hand once. She would do so again.
"Is the investigation into the coastal village proceeding well?" she asked, shifting the conversation gently forward.
Wooki, his posture rigid with tension, responded in a voice strained but steady, "As commanded, Your Majesty, we have captured everyone responsible for ordering and participating in the inhumane experiments on the villagers."
The Queen's gaze remained calm, her voice even and unwavering.
"Proceed with sentencing as deemed appropriate by the inspectors. And ensure that every villager harmed by these experiments receives immediate medical attention—assign skilled physicians to oversee their treatment."
Wooki's eyes, flickering with uncertainty, slowly rose to meet the Queen's gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he hesitated. Queen Genie's expression was soft but filled with authority—a gentle reassurance that steadied him.
"I will carry out your orders, Your Majesty!" he cried out, the weight of the responsibility settling heavy on his shoulders.
The Queen offered a silent nod, trust evident in her eyes. Without another word, she turned gracefully and began to walk toward the exit, her attendants following closely behind her.
As they moved through the cold corridors of the palace, Chief Han, who had remained silently at her side, approached the Queen with a quiet question.
"Your Majesty," she began, her voice low and measured, "are you certain about entrusting all of this to Inspector Wooki?"
Queen Genie paused for a moment, her gaze drifting out of the palace windows, where the skeletal branches of winter trees swayed in the breeze. She let out a soft sigh before answering, her tone tinged with contemplation.
"I wish to give him one more chance," she said, her voice carrying the weight of both decision and hope. "How he handles this case will determine his future in the kingdom."
Chief Han, moved by the Queen's wisdom, bowed her head respectfully.
"A truly wise decision, Your Majesty."
The biting cold of winter wrapped around them as they continued their path, the first year of Queen Genie's reign nearing its close in the Kingdom of Hana. In the midst of this harsh season, the future of the kingdom—along with that of Wooki—hung in a delicate balance.
"This year, there will be no year-end or New Year festivities in the palace," Queen Genie's words echoed through the grand King's Hall, her voice composed yet resolute.
Around the long ebony conference table, ministers and high-ranking officials sat in stunned silence, the sudden announcement catching many off guard.
A few exchanged uneasy glances. Among them, Jade seated mid-right, straightened in his chair. Beside him, Moonsen, newly appointed to the high council and still adjusting to the weight of his new role, furrowed his brow in surprise.
It was the Minister of Foreign Affairs who broke the silence. His voice was careful but questioning.
"Your Majesty, if I may clarify... Are you saying that not only the year-end celebrations, but also the New Year's events are to be canceled entirely?"
Queen Genie did not flinch. She looked directly at him, her expression firm yet serene.
"Yes. I have no plans to host either."
She stood, her presence commanding the attention of all in the room.
"The well-being of our people must come before tradition or ceremony. The inspection of the provincial villages is far from complete. We are still healing from the recent conflicts—many families remain displaced, and recovery is slow. In the coastal regions, those who survived the experimentation are still receiving treatment. Their pain is fresh, their wounds deep.
To gather here in splendor while our people suffer in silence would betray the spirit of Hana—a kingdom built on compassion, where the people are cherished above privilege. So this year, we will pass quietly. With dignity. With purpose."
She paused and scanned the room, her gaze steady.
"I welcome your thoughts."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Jade's lips curled into a subtle, admiring smile. He had always loved her cheerful, candid nature behind closed doors, but it was in moments like this—when she stood before others with poise and conviction—that his respect for her deepened.
From across the table, Minister Han Son leaned forward slightly, placing his hand over his chest in a gesture of solemn support.
"I wholeheartedly agree, Your Majesty," he said with quiet conviction. "To see in the New Year not with feasts and fanfare, but with focus and compassion for our people... it is the most honorable path we can take."
Murmurs of agreement followed, soft but sincere. One by one, the ministers nodded, the mood shifting from shock to reverence.
And so, as the cold wind whispered against the palace walls, the tone for the close of Queen Genie's first year was set—not with celebration, but with solidarity.
Queen Genie smiled, her expression softened with quiet gratitude.
"Then I shall take it," she said gently, "that you all stand with me in this decision."
A stillness settled over the hall, not of silence, but of shared understanding. Her voice carried with it a serenity that steadied the hearts of those before her.
"Let us spend this year's end in quiet prayer, giving thanks to the Lord for His mercies," she continued. "I am deeply grateful to each of you for supporting me through my first year as monarch. It has been a turbulent journey—marked by sorrow and strife—but by God's grace, the Kingdom of Hana has endured."
She paused, allowing the weight of her words to rest in the room like a final snowfall.
"Today marks the close of the year. Please—return to your homes and spend it warmly, in peace, with your families."
With that, Queen Genie inclined her head in a graceful bow, formally concluding the council meeting.
Around the table, the ministers rose in unison. Chairs slid back, robes rustled, and one by one, they bowed low before her.
"We are unworthy of your grace, Your Majesty," said one.
"Thank you for this year, Your Majesty," added another emotion breaking through his formal tone.
Others offered nods of respect, hands over hearts, words of thanks that were heartfelt and varied, each in their own way echoing the same sentiment: loyalty, admiration, and reverence for the young Queen who had already led them through fire.
Queen Genie met each of their eyes with warmth, her gaze steady, kind, and luminous with faith.
At her side, Jade watched silently, his heart stirred by a quiet intensity he could not quite name. Her poise, her compassion, her unwavering strength in the face of hardship—it all struck him anew, like a chord being played from deep within.
He closed his eyes for a moment and offered up a prayer in the silence of his soul.
'Lord, thank You for the honor of serving by Her Majesty's side this year. The future of our kingdom—and my future with her—are all in Your hands. I entrust the coming year, and every year that follows, to You. Guide us. Strengthen us. And let Your will be done in all things.'
As the royal officials began to file out, the golden light of the setting sun poured through the tall arched windows of the King's Hall, casting long shadows that mingled with a growing sense of peace. The Queen remained standing at the head of the table, her silhouette illuminated—half sovereign, half symbol of hope.
Outside, the final day of the year began its quiet descent into night.
[Hana Kingdom, 1394]
The royal palace of Hana stood shrouded in winter's hush, its tiled rooftops frosted with fresh snow like icing on a sacred offering. The world was still. Even the wind dared not disturb the silence of the year's first dawn.
Queen Genie stepped onto the stone veranda, her breath a pale cloud in the cold. Her silk robes whispered with each step, brushing softly against the snow-dusted ground. Behind her, the scent of warm cedar and burning charcoal faded as she left the comfort of her quarters and entered the chilled embrace of the morning.