The silence stretched between them like an endless night until Kim Jin spoke again, softer, yet cutting.
"Then, Jade… I must ask you one thing." His eyes narrowed, their glimmer sharp and probing.
"Does she know? Does Her Majesty know of your heart?"
For the first time that evening, Jade's composure faltered. His lips trembled, his breath caught.
Kim Jin pressed carefully, his voice a quiet knife.
"Does Queen Genie know that you love her?"
The candlelight wavered against Jade's face, revealing the faintest crack in his iron mask.
At last, he whispered, "... No."
Kim Jin leaned back, his bitter smile curling deeper, carrying both mockery and pity. He nodded, slow and heavy.
"I see. So even your heart could not escape the chains of Ash. You silenced yourself, carried that weight… all because of me. Because of the Ash Kingdom."
His voice faded into the silence of the chamber, each word burning into Jade like ash carried on the wind.
The night air carried laughter and the fragrance of roasted chestnuts. Lanterns, painted with cranes, lotus blossoms, and calligraphy, floated into the heavens like drifting stars. Their warm glow mirrored in Jade's eyes as he halted in the shadows of the village road.
'Her Majesty… she loves these lanterns,' Jade thought, his chest tightening. 'She has not touched a night like this in years.'
He stood still, half-hidden, watching a pair of villagers pass by with delight. A young woman, her hair neatly tied with a red ribbon, lifted her embroidered shoes high in her hands.
"This is wonderful—thank you so much!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing like a song.
The man beside her, carrying a paper lantern shaped like a carp, laughed softly and bowed his head.
"I'm glad you like it."
Their simple joy pierced Jade's heart.
For in that instant, another night unfurled in his memory—twelve years past, when the world had been simpler, when Genie was not yet Queen but only a young princess of twelve summers.
Princess Genie had paused for a moment.
"You don't need to come to the princess's palace on holidays. Also, here..."
Genie weakly pulled a blue headband from her pocket.
"Today is your birthday, right? Here's the gift."
Jade's eyes widened slightly.
"How did you know today was my birthday..."
Genie didn't even wait for his words to end and turned away, walking off with a weak step.
Jade, still in a daze, watched her retreating figure.
Remembering that distant night, Jade's lips curved faintly, almost against his will.
'Her Majesty once gave me a gift on my own birthday in June…'
The thought warmed him briefly, but soon another memory surfaced—one far heavier.
It was the beginning of December, ten years ago. Snow blanketed the palace roofs in silence. King Gen, standing at the tall pavilion window, had gazed out at the white world with eyes full of longing.
"Today," the King had murmured, voice deep with sorrow, "is my daughter Genie's birthday. I wonder how she spends it now… her first birthday in Arabia, far from our kingdom."
Back then, Jade had been no more than the King's young guard, standing at his post with disciplined silence. His heart had not dared to move, yet he had absorbed every word, as if the King's grief had been carved into him.
Now, years later, those words echoed in his chest. He could almost see the King's silhouette again against the snowy window, and Genie—alone in a distant land, carrying the burden of exile even on the day of her birth.
Jade's eyes lit faintly, catching the glow of the lanterns rising before him. The villagers' laughter swelled, music drifted on the night air, and children pointed skyward as flames carried paper dreams into the heavens.
"Her Majesty's birthday is in December then…" Jade murmured under the dim lantern light, his voice nearly swallowed by the festival's hum. His steps slowed, and his brows drew together. "I met her again in Arabia last July… and now it is already April of the following year. I let her birthday pass by without even a word…"
His jaw tightened, disappointment weighing heavily on him. The paper lanterns above flickered like accusing stars, each one reminding him of what he had missed.
"But how come no one in the palace celebrated Her Majesty's birthday?" he whispered. Then, with a slow breath, the answer came to him. His eyes softened with sudden clarity. "Ah… of course. She never told them. She must have hidden it."
Jade recalled the Queen's endless hours over state scrolls, her quiet refusals of luxuries, her laughter dimmed for the sake of Hana. He clenched his fists at his sides.
"So Her Majesty cast aside even her own day of birth, not wishing the palace to waste coins or hours on her joy… She bore that silence alone."
His chest tightened with a bitter ache. He remembered her—still only Princess Genie—offering him a small gift, shyly but warmly, on his own birthday long ago, when no one else had cared to mark the day. She remembered his birthday then. She had honored him, though he was only a royal guard at her side.
Now, years later, he had failed to honor her.
Jade's heart stirred like a restless tide, both in sorrow and in a trembling devotion that refused to be hidden.
'I should return here tomorrow. I must find Her Majesty a gift. Even if it is already April, even if it comes late… she deserves to be celebrated.'
He lifted his gaze. The lanterns floated upward, carrying the villagers' wishes into the night heavens. Jade's lips parted faintly, his breath catching.
'If only I could walk here beside her and see her smile beneath these lanterns…'
And with that longing, he continued through the village, each lantern a reflection of the yearning that burned within him—bright, fragile, and unable to be extinguished.
The early morning mist still lingered over the palace rooftops, pale sunlight spilling across the tiled eaves. On the second-floor terrace of the Queen's pavilion, Genie sat quietly, her hands folded upon her lap. The fragrance of dew-drenched blossoms drifted in from the garden below, but her heart felt heavier than the tranquil air suggested.
Soon, soft footsteps approached. The royal physician entered with a silk bag embroidered in jade patterns, bowing deeply before her.
"Good morning, Your Majesty. How are you feeling today?" he asked, his voice low yet carrying the weight of concern.
Genie's lips curved faintly, her eyes shining with a mischievous light despite the fatigue in them.
"I'm feeling quite well," she replied softly. "In fact, perfectly well at this moment. Perhaps…" She tilted her head and smiled more playfully, though her voice trembled slightly. "Perhaps the illness has already decided to leave me."
The physician allowed a small smile, though his eyes betrayed a sorrow he dared not express. He understood well—Her Majesty's jest was not born from lightheartedness but from the will to comfort those around her, to soften the burden of fear.
From a discreet distance, Chief Han and Lady Park watched, their gazes heavy with compassion. They had ensured the other court ladies and guards remained far away, guarding the secret of their Queen's ailment with loyal silence.
The physician knelt, opening the silk bag with steady hands. One by one, he drew out packets of rare herbs and the instruments of his healing art. The morning sun glimmered upon the brass tools as though blessing them with light. He prepared the remedies with utmost care, every movement quiet yet deliberate, as though the entire terrace itself had fallen into reverent stillness.
The first light of dawn bled across the eastern horizon, painting the palace yard in faint hues of gold. The clang of steel against steel and the resounding stomp of disciplined feet echoed through the military yard. Rows of warriors moved as one, their blades flashing in the dim light, their breaths uniting into a single, thunderous rhythm.
Upon the wooden podium, Jade stood tall. His posture was composed, his gaze sharp and unwavering, carrying the weight of both command and charisma. To the warriors, he was the immovable pillar of Hana's military strength, a commander whose eyes could pierce through hesitation and summon loyalty without a word.
Yet beneath that calm, a different fire stirred.
'Right after this training ends, I shall go to the marketplace.' His thoughts whispered amidst the clash of weapons. 'I must find a gift for Her Majesty. Her birthday passed in December, and I… I did not even speak of it to her.'
A bitterness pricked his chest.
But at the same time, he wanted to see Genie's smile when he gave her the present.
The warriors finished their final formation, the ground reverberating with the echo of their unison. The rising sun crowned their effort in a blaze of crimson light.
"Good work to you all," Jade's voice cut across the yard, deep and commanding. "Take your breakfast, then return to your groups. Deputy Commander Danjin will lead your specialized drills for the day."
At his signal, the soldiers bowed, their voices rising in affirmation before dispersing into disciplined ranks.
Jade's eyes swept across them one last time before he stepped down from the podium. His boots struck the earth with steady composure, though his heart had already turned toward the bustling streets beyond the palace walls.
Danjin approached, his brow glistening with the morning's exertion. He bowed respectfully.
"Minister, are you not joining us for breakfast?" Danjin called, his voice respectful but laced with curiosity. "You're heading that way?"