She walked toward the King's Court—a wide, open square bordered by ancient pine trees and statues of warriors long passed. In the center, the ceremonial pond lay frozen, a mirror of cloudy silver, its surface dusted with snowflakes like fragile stars fallen from the sky.
The rising sun crested the eastern hills, casting golden light across the court. The rays spilled like honey across the frostbitten stones, gilding the edges of Queen Genie's robes and touching her face with gentle warmth. She paused. Then she lifted her chin, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked toward the sun.
"Let this year be different," she thought. "Let it be the beginning of something stronger, something lasting."
Aloud, she spoke, her voice calm and resolute in the crisp air.
"I hope this year brings a new beginning for Hanaguk—where our people will find joy that lasts longer than seasons, and peace that withstands time."
From behind, her attendants stood in respectful silence. They listened not just to her words, but to the unspoken weight behind them—the quiet burden she bore as sovereign and protector.
She turned.
"Prepare my military attire."
A sharp intake of breath came from Lady Park, who stepped forward, her crimson hanbok rustling with alarm.
"Your Majesty... do you intend to train—today? On the very first morning of the new year?"
Queen Genie smiled, not coldly, but with the quiet warmth of someone who had long made peace with her decisions.
"Yes. This year, I will be more than a ruler in name. I will become someone who can stand firm… and defend both myself and Hana Kingdom."
Chief Han, a seasoned woman with a weathered expression softened only by her loyalty, gave a respectful bow.
"I shall prepare your uniform immediately, Your Majesty. And fetch your bow and arrows."
Within the hour, Queen Genie stood at the palace training grounds, the blue fabric of her military uniform catching the morning light. The emblem of the phoenix—symbol of rebirth and resilience—was embroidered in silver thread across her back. Snowflakes drifted onto her shoulders, melting silently.
Her fingers wrapped around the bow with practiced care. She exhaled, steady and long, eyes fixed on the distant target.
Behind her, attendants and guards watched—not out of duty, but admiration. Here stood not just a queen—but a sovereign forged in winter, tempered by duty, and lit from within by the first fire of the new year.
With steady hands, Genie lifted her bow, an arrow already nocked and poised for release. Her arms arched high above her head, graceful and commanding under the golden light of late afternoon. Slowly, she lowered the weapon, drawing the bowstring tight. The tension in the string mirrored the tautness in her body.
Her gaze narrowed, locking onto the distant target across the training field. At its center was a crimson circle—the bullseye—beckoning with silent challenge. She focused on the faint whisper of the wind, calculating its direction, feeling it brush her cheek.
But just as she steadied her breath and adjusted her aim, a memory surged into her mind like a flash of lightning.
The mountainside.
The blur of motion through the trees.
The dark figure sprinting uphill.
The sharp twang of her bowstring.
She had loosed an arrow then—sharp and sure—and it had found its mark in the chest of one of the two assassins. The man fell without a sound. But the second one, agile and farther up the ridge, had escaped into the forest's shadow.
'They had come for Jade. That much was clear. But why?'
Her fingers relaxed instinctively, and the arrow flew.
Thwip!
It struck—not the red center, but the outer ring, quivering in the wood with a dull finality.
Genie exhaled slowly, her brow furrowing.
'Don't think too much about it,' she scolded herself silently, shaking off the memory.
She reached back to her quiver and drew another arrow. But this time, as her fingers prepared to nock it, they froze mid-motion.
No. This wasn't something she could simply push aside.
Queen Genie turned abruptly, her voice calm but firm.
"I need to go and see Jade."
Outside the grand double doors of Minister Jade's office, Vice Commander Danjin stood at attention. At the sudden arrival of Queen Genie, he blinked in surprise, then bowed swiftly, his brows furrowing with unease.
"Your Majesty..." he began, his voice careful yet laced with uncertainty. "I apologize, but it seems Minister Jade is currently away from his office."
Genie paused, her expression composed, though a faint shadow of disappointment flickered in her eyes. She had come without sending notice, but a part of her had hoped he might still be here—working, waiting.
"That's alright," she said softly, her voice as even as ever. "Do you happen to know when he will return?"
Danjin lowered his gaze, his hands clasped behind his back with a hint of nervousness.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. With today marking the start of the new year, there are no scheduled appointments. I'm afraid I do not know when the Minister will be back."
He bowed again, this time deeper, as if trying to make up for the inconvenience he couldn't control.
Genie offered a gracious smile and gave a small shake of her head.
"Understood. Thank you, Danjin. I'll take my leave for now."
With that, she turned gracefully, her attendants following in silent procession. The hallway echoed faintly with the soft rustle of silk and the light tap of her heels on polished stone.
"I will inform you the moment Minister Jade returns, Your Majesty!" Danjin called after them, bowing once more.
Elsewhere, far removed from the quiet emptiness of his office, Jade sat alone in the private study of Kim Jin, an influential noble whose counsel he occasionally sought in moments of uncertainty. The room was warm, filled with the scent of cedar and parchment, but Jade's mind was anything but calm.
He sat stiffly at the low table, hands resting motionless as thoughts swirled restlessly behind his eyes.
The door opened with a gentle creak.
Kim Jin entered, carrying a round lacquer tray upon which sat a pale teapot and two delicately painted teacups. He smiled, his demeanor as composed as ever.
"Since it's the first day of the new year," Kim Jin said cheerfully, setting the tray down between them, "I thought it fitting to share the finest tea—sent from the Ash Kingdom, no less."
Jade gave a faint nod of thanks and reached for the teapot to serve his host, but Kim Jin chuckled and leaned forward, gently intercepting his hand.
"I'll pour for you first," he said, a sly twinkle in his eye. "You look like you have too many thoughts in your head already—leave the tea to me."
"Thank you, sir."
Jade bowed his head slightly and lifted the porcelain teacup with both hands, observing the gentle swirl of steam rising from its surface. The fragrance was rich—earthy, with a faint hint of blossoms. It reminded him of spring mornings in a place that no longer felt like home.
Across from him, Kim Jin's face lit up with satisfaction as he topped off Jade's cup.
"Jade," he began, his voice warm, smooth like aged wine, "thanks to you, I've received every honor the King of the Ash Kingdom could bestow." His smile widened, and the glint of ambition shone behind his eyes. "Truly, I owe it all to your impeccable work during your assignment."
Jade managed a faint smile, but beneath the polite facade, his stomach churned. The words, though intended as praise, brought back a wave of memories he had tried to bury. Lies spun in the name of diplomacy, false reports delivered with precision, and the painful betrayal of the very land he now stood in—Hana Kingdom.
He lowered his gaze, hoping the steam from the tea would mask the sudden flicker of guilt in his eyes.
But Kim Jin, oblivious to the inner storm, continued speaking.
"This year," he said, voice lowering just slightly, "the Ash Kingdom is preparing for a full-scale invasion."
Jade froze.
"I'm counting on you again, Jade," Kim Jin added, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile, making him look almost fatherly.
Jade gave a slow, mechanical nod and brought the teacup to his lips. The warmth of the tea did little to ease the chill tightening in his chest.
'I'm sorry, sir…'
The words formed silently in his heart.
He had already made his choice.
His loyalty now belonged to Queen Genie. To Hana Kingdom. He could no longer carry out the will of the Ash Kingdom—not when it meant aiding the destruction of the land and the people he had come to serve and protect.
But Kim Jin must never know. If word of his defection reached Ash, not only would Kim Jin be implicated, but Jade's carefully guarded identity could be exposed within Hana Kingdom. That alone could shatter everything.
'No matter what happens… My past must never be revealed to Her Majesty.'
As he drank the tea in silence, the sweetness of betrayal lingered bitterly on his tongue. But behind his composed eyes, a vow was sealed.
He would protect the Queen.
Even if it meant deceiving the very people who once called him brother.