Ranulph Tarkin's fingers twitched against his coat. Impatience cracked through his voice "Queen Amidala. Right now, your position is incredibly vulnerable. The Trade Federation has already attacked your world. You've splintered the Republic with your recklessness. Your choices are clear.""Either you stand arrested for your declaration of independence… or you join me."
.Tarkin's composure began to fracture. "Choose. Quickly."
Padmé didn't respond. She watched him instead. Measured. Evaluating. There it is, she thought. His pride.
Behind her, Palpatine finally cleared his throat with as much dignity as he could salvage. "Senator Tarkin… may I suggest that you calm—"
Tarkin snapped without turning. "Shut up, dementia senator."
A shocked murmur rippled across the Senate.
Tarkin went on, cold and biting. "You're at the stage where even you don't know if you've taken your medication. I still don't understand why Queen Amidala employed you. A man who clearly suffers from memory rot."
Palpatine's face barely moved—but his hands gripped the edge of the console. That slander is because of my failed plan to frame Jin-Woo. Instead of turning the queen amidala against him, I've become the one mocked. Labeled. Rumors of dementia .
He felt the weight of a gaze. Across the chamber, seated within the Muunilinst box of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, was his master—Hego Damask. Still masked beneath his alias. Still watching.
Then, with a subtle movement only Palpatine could recognize, Hego gave the signal. A slow, deliberate brush across the lower lip with two fingers. Stay silent.I'll handle this.
Palpatine gave a single, shallow nod . The situation had reached critical mass.
From the Banking Clan's congressional box, a lean figure stepped forward—San Hill, the chairman's heir and speaker. He adjusted his robe, cleared his throat, . "Mmmm… I believe… this entire session… has spiraled far beyond the bounds… of reason and protocol…"
San Hill long fingers opened in a gesture of performative concern. "We, from the InterGalactic Banking Clan, pride ourselves… on financial stability. Not political… mmmm… chaos."
His tone dripped with theatrical disapproval—measured, but unmistakably accusatory.
Mas Amedda, from the central dais, slammed his staff against the floor, his voice rising with alarm. "Order! Order! We are on the brink of civil war—this chamber does not need more—!"
Valorum raised his hand sharply. "Enough, Vice Chairman. Let the delegate from the Banking Clan speak."
He turned his weary eyes to San Hill, offering a shallow nod. "You may proceed, Representative Hill."
San Hill adjusted his cuffs and leaned forward once more. "I could simply call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum, which is… undeniably the simplest solution to fix this mess."
He paused, theatrically tilting his head. "However… I would instead like to ask someone else. Someone standing beside Queen Amidala."
Tarkin cut in with a scoff. "That dementia-riddled senator doesn't even remember why he's—"
San Hill raised a long finger, not even bothering to look at him. "I wasn't finished… you militarist freak."
Gasps broke out. Tarkin's congressional box vibrated subtly as some of his supporters leaned forward, indignant. But Hill continued, unbothered. "I mean someone else. The figure we all notice standing beside Her Majesty. We're all aware Queen Amidala is the youngest ruler of Naboo has had in generations—barely six months on the throne." He slowly extended his arm toward Naboo's platform. "But the man standing next to her… is Jin-Woo. Head of the Purple England Company."
Thousands of eyes—and dozens of floating holo-cameras—now turned toward one figure. Jin-Woo. Still standing beside padme , hands in his coat pockets,
San Hill folded his hands behind his back, voice reverent but sharp. "Now—before anyone twists this into slander—I wish to clarify: I do not question the character of Sir Jin-Woo. Quite the opposite. You are a merchant, after all. A very good one. Perhaps the most successful rising corporate figure in the Mid and Outer Rim—your ascension has taken less than a standard year. Remarkable."
He gave a slight bow toward Jin-Woo, not mockingly, but with quiet caution. "That is why, on behalf of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, I wish to ask your opinion."
San Hill's eyes narrowed just slightly. "What would you suggest… for this Republic? What path lies forward for a system on the brink of collapse?"
Plagueis' plan had been simple: corner Jin-Woo. Frame him as nothing more than a vulgar merchant—an opportunist dressed in respectability. Then, in the vacuum left by disillusionment, raise Palpatine as the clean, sophisticated alternative. A candidate worthy of the Chancellorship. But there was one fatal flaw in that design. Plagueis had underestimated Jin-Woo's madness. And more than that… he had misread his moral compass entirely.
Jin-Woo's voice echoed through the vast chamber. "Look at your reflection in your congressional box… all of you. Aiming to become Chancellor. Emperor, maybe. But tell me—how much time do you really have left?"
San Hill's lips thinned as he leaned forward slightly, his tone affected but laced with edge. "Please… answer the question asked of you, good sir," he said, drawing out the words with a careful cadence. "The Senate would prefer something useful… not just philosophical riddles."
Jin-Woo didn't blink. "Someday? Someday the Republic will be better? One day you'll wake up and realize it never happened. It all turned on you. Time passed, and you never changed it. You never would. Because deep down… you were never going to."
"You'll bury it—your purpose, your ideals—and sink into the comforts of your illusion. Speeches. Comfortable lies. You'll drift into old age, hypnotized by the routines you once called duty. So don't stand there and lecture me about how I conduct business. The Republic collapsed from just one small invasion. That's all it took. And you?"
Jin-Woo slowly turned his gaze across the whole Senate. "You're still up here making speeches. Still asking me questions. What the fuck are you doing asking something you'll never act on?"
The silence didn't last long. The Senate erupted into chaos.
"He's right!" one senator shouted. "The Republic is crumbling! It has failed us!"
"No, this is madness!" another voice screamed. "He's a warlord in a merchant's disguise! This is treason!"
Lott Dod stumbled to the front of the Trade Federation platform, his voice shrill and trembling with Neimoidian panic. "Arrest this man! Arrest him! He's a threat to democracy !"
But then, from another rising box across the chamber, Bail Antilles stood and glared at Dod with sharp disgust.
"The one who should be arrested is you," Bail declared firmly. "You and the Trade Federation. If it weren't for your greed, and corruption—this Republic wouldn't be rotting from the inside out!"
The volume surged—dozens of platforms rising, arguments clashing from every direction.
On the Naboo box, Padmé leaned slightly toward Jin-Woo, eyes on the imploding chaos. "Jin-Woo… is this what you meant? People are retarded?"
Jin-Woo didn't look at her, his gaze fixed ahead—but the smile on his lips was thin and tired. "Worse", he said. "I expected a vote of no confidence… at least a fake attempt to preserve the illusion. But now? There's a high chance today is the last day the Republic stands. Tomorrow… they'll all have their own flags.."
Jin-woo raised a hand and turned slightly, gesturing toward Padmé like a gentleman offering his arm to a princess. "Shall we go, Padmé? Back to Naboo. Fend off the invaders ourselves."
Padmé let out a quiet chuckle, barely audible under the storm of voices crashing around them. More like you'll show me another miracle… or another spectacle.
She turned and placed a hand lightly on Jin-Woo's arm. "Will do, my future husband."
With that, the Naboo congressional box began gliding toward the Senate chamber's exit, silent but certain—cutting cleanly through the chaos.
But just as they passed into the midsection of the Senate floor, three other congressional boxes snapped forward—slamming into place like a trap. Republic guards aboard them immediately leveled blasters at the Naboo platform. The chamber fell silent again.
From the center of the blockade, Senator Ranulph Tarkin stepped forward. . "This ends now."
"The Naboo faction… and any others who believe they can break away without consequence… will be detained. Immediately. You are not merely a threat to the Republic itself . You are a threat to the galaxy. To all the Rims—Mid, Inner, and even the Outer Rim, whose stability depends on unity. Chaos spreads like wildfire when the center collapses. You light that fire today, you doom trillions tomorrow."
Tarkin's eyes narrowed. "Any attempt to flee… any sudden movements from your platform… will be treated as an act of open rebellion. And executed. On the spot."
A ripple of unease tore through the room. The silence was suffocating.
Palpatine stood frozen. Thought roaring behind unmoving eyes. Do I really need to draw my Lightsaber now?Here? In front of the entire Senate? This is… this is all gone to chaos .
Padmé said nothing. the stillness of a woman who'd already made her choice.
Then—SNAP. A single finger flicked through the air. The guards' blasters shattered instantly. shattered. As if they were brittle glass under pressure. Pieces clattered across their platforms, the echo sharp and surreal.
Every eye turned to the man at the center of it.
Jin-Woo stood with his fingers still raised, gaze calm, breath even. He looked upward, as if addressing the air itself. "Morgan. You there?"
A ripple tore reality beside him. A pinkish spiral twisted into existence. From the swirling portal stepped a woman in a gown. Morgan le Fay. She glanced around the stunned chamber, then at her husband.
"You called, my husband?" Morgan said sweetly, voice tinged with danger and amusement.
Palpatine's blood froze in his veins. That arrival... That's how Yogumunt The Queen of Transfiguration used to make her entrance ..
Jin-Woo didn't react to the stares. He simply turned to her and said, "Cover Queen Amidala only. With your mana."
Morgan tilted her head slightly. "And the others? Captain Panaka? The dementia senator?"
"No need," Jin-Woo said, without even glancing back. "Only my future wife candidate—Padmé Naberrie Amidala."
Morgan's smile sharpened . "As you wish, my husband."
She raised one hand. The light swirled around her wrist like a blooming flower, then cascaded outward—washing over Padmé in a luminous veil of pink. It clung to her skin like living silk, radiant and indestructible.
Jin-Woo stepped forward, hands sliding into his pockets. he stepped into the air, calmly striding above it.
Ranulph Tarkin's voice cracked like a whip. "Strong Republic faction guards—execute this man on the—"
He never finished. The air collapsed. A weight—unseen, impossible—crushed the Senate chamber in an instant. Like space itself had narrowed into a vice around every throat.
Jin-Woo had unsealed it. The Perfect Unnoticed Skill—Deactivated —erupted as waves of unrelenting force pressure poured from his core . The Force surged, wild and absolute.
Palpatine's pupils constricted, the words stuck in his throat.
What… what is this? He's—he's flooding the chamber with it. That explains it. That's why his midichlorian count read zero…. Suppressed.
From the shadowed Congressional box of the Muun Banking Clan, Darth Plagueis—still in the guise of Hego Damask—stared with unreadable eyes. His jaw set. I should've found him first. I would've made him my apprentice. But now… no. The Force itself… recoils from him. No, not recoils—trembles. As if it fears this man..
But Jin-Woo wasn't finished. [Ultimate Skill: Force Heart] — Activated.
Its subskill surged next—
[Force Presence: Planetary Level Aura]