After some time, Naboo's skies cleared, the shadow army tirelessly at work. Their skill went beyond combat—giant shadow hands rebuilt fallen towers, shadow knights reshaped stone walls, and even shadow magicians mended broken gardens as if they had always been gardeners in another life. Theed, scarred by battle, began to rise again. Even the palace, once battered and open to the sky, stood repaired in elegant detail.
At the main hangar, Padmé prepared to part ways. She lent one of Naboo's silver spacecraft to the Jedi—a vessel large enough to carry both Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and their battered prisoner, Maul, back to Coruscant.
Qui-Gon lingered before boarding, his calm eyes fixed on Jin-Woo.
"I suppose this is where our paths part. Perhaps next month we'll stand as enemies—perhaps allies still. But for now… may the Force be with you, Jin-Woo."
Jin-Woo gave a low chuckle.
"You'll be back before a week passes, Qui-Gon. After all, Anakin—your chosen one—is still here. Isn't that right?"
Obi-Wan, his arms folded, frowned deeply.
"I'm still confused. Why did the Daughter of Mortis forbid us from taking Anakin to the Temple? This isn't the first time a child has been brought to us."
The air shifted, and with a shimmer of feathers and light, the Daughter of Mortis manifested. Her eyes carried the weight of eternity, yet her voice was sharp, cutting, almost maternal.
"First of all—he is still a child. A nine-year-old who can't even aim his urine straight. Second, there is something fundamentally wrong with your entire system of education. Giving a child a lightsaber and telling him to detach from everything he loves? . That's the first step to everyone's downfall."
"Even we—ancients, avatars of the Force itself—were born of mothers' wombs. Not conjured from nothing. I don't know what's broken in your heads, thinking detachment is the path to strength. And you train them in a temple of steel, choking on pollution, surrounded by a Senate that is a festering corpse of corruption."
Obi-Wan blinked, caught off guard. His lips curved into a wry half-smile.
"You sound like you hate Coruscant. Just like Jin-Woo here—since he never hides his disdain for it."
Qui-Gon shifted the subject, his voice calm but probing.
"Jin-Woo… what about the Viceroy and the Trade Federation officials? Shouldn't you deliver them to us?"
Jin-Woo's smirk flattened into something harder.
"No. If they're to be judged, then I want every last senator dragged here first. All of them, every one of their smug faces, to take their beloved Viceroy into custody with their own hands. Because I don't want justice that comes cheap, or punishment passed around like charity. I want them to own it. A take-and-give relationship."
"The Senate of Coruscant forced me into this. I didn't want it to escalate this way. I didn't plan to bring out my personal army. The Zakuul Knights weren't meant for this war either. But improvisation was forced on me. Naboo's independence—that's all I wanted. Viceroy captured by the Republic itself, not by me."
Qui-Gon's expression softened, almost pitying.
"Then what you want… is revenge. Isn't it?"
Jin-Woo let out a low, bitter laugh.
"Revenge? I don't know why people always get hung up on that word. Let me make it simple for you, Qui-Gon. Anyone who fucks with me—whether it's a senator, a Sith, or some god from another realm—I'll remember them for eternity."
"My mindset is simple: you help us, I help you. You cross me, and . I'll swallow you in my darkness until hell, purgatory, or chaos looks cheap compared to what I'll put you through. My darkness is far more terrifying than anything in this galaxy. I've just chosen not to show it. But if someone pushes my stress button…"
Jin woo eyes narrowed, the smirk gone. "…then they'll see it."
Qui-Gon stood in silence, measuring him. He knew now, without question—Jin-Woo was a dangerous man. Passive, perhaps, as long as no one provoked him… but his power was alien, something outside the galaxy's natural order. He wielded both Force abilities and something darker, deeper.
Jin-Woo had claimed a midichlorian count of two hundred thousand—an impossible number. Qui-Gon couldn't be sure if it was truth or lie, but he had seen the man nearly bring all of Coruscant to its knees with sheer presence alone. That alone was proof enough.
At last, Qui-Gon spoke, his voice calm but solemn.
"Then I hope, in the future, we come to good terms—should the Force deem us compatible."
The Naboo spacecraft's ramp began to close. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stepped inside, Maul's broken form dragged along with them. Just before the hatch sealed, Qui-Gon turned back, his parting words steady, but heavy with meaning.
"I respect you, Jin-Woo. We walk with different mindsets than the rest of this galaxy. But I will tell the Council what you are capable of. Because I believe your power is too great for one man to hold alone."
Jin-Woo's reply came without hesitation, his voice cutting through the air like a warning.
"If you do, then tell the whole truth. Yoda trusts you more than most. But keep in mind—you leave out one piece, the entire picture twists. Expose what you need . But the one thing you can't predict is how the public will react… when they discover that the other identity and I… are the same person."
Qui-Gon's gaze lingered. He gave a single, firm nod. Then the ramp sealed shut with a hiss, and the craft lifted away into the Naboo sky.
The night air was cool over Theed, lanterns and lights glowing across the city. From the balcony of the palace, Jin-Woo stood alone, silent, watching the celebration. Below, the streets were crowded—citizens cheering, singing, toasting their freedom from the Trade Federation's grip.
Sio Bibble stumbled forward, glass in hand, his face flushed with drink. "A toast—to the Armored Man! The one who built us… hah! That crazy bunker beneath the cit—" His words slurred into nothing as he lost his balance and toppled over.
Sabe caught him half-heartedly, shaking her head. "I guess he's too drunk."
Panaka stood straight, his voice steady despite the noise. "Wherever you are, Armored Man… though none of us know your identity, we are thankful. None of us were held hostage. You saved Naboo. For that, we are deeply grateful."
Rey—leaning on the balcony rail—raised her glass, the faintest smirk curling her lips. She knew. Of all the thousands cheering below, she was one of the very few who truly knew. She lifted her toast high.
"For the Armored Man."
The crowd caught the cry, glasses lifted, voices echoing across the streets.
"For the Armored Man!"
Padmé moved closer, her gown brushing against the stone floor, her eyes soft as they found Jin-Woo. She leaned beside him, her voice low.
"You should enjoy it, Jin-Woo. It's rare enough to be hated—better that you receive praise as well."
Jin-Woo exhaled, faint amusement in his voice.
"I don't like celebrity life. I live as I choose—normal, quiet. That's it. Though…" his smirk curved faintly, "…being ruler has its perks."
Padmé's lips curved, her tone teasing, almost conspiratorial.
"Then I hope—a benevolent ruler."
She leaned closer still, her whisper brushing against his ear, sweet and sly.
"My beloved Armored Man."
Padmé's arms wrapped around him, her voice trembling with the weight of all that had passed.
"Jin-Woo… when you said your code was to let evil devour evil—you meant it. You intended to be the monster, so that invaders would run."
Jin-Woo's gaze turned outward, to the city lights below, his voice quiet but edged.
""Politics is complicated, Padmé. The Jedi carry a broken brand, and the Senate— they're drowning in rumors and rot. Meanwhile, the Sith—Sidious, Plagueis, and whoever else they keep in their pocket—have been preparing this game for a long time. All the while, the Jedi float too high in their own minds, convinced they are the ultimate justice, the embodiment of good."
Padmé's breath hitched; her tears stained his cloak as her voice cracked with yearning.
"Then let me come with you. Morgan told me you can leap anywhere, go anywhere. Please… let me join you. Like your other wives—Morgan, Rey, Talon. I realize now how much I've missed. My life was duty, duty, duty… I never had my youth, never had fun."
Jin-Woo's gaze lowered to her, searching her face.
"Tell me—this journey, what you've seen with me so far. Was it great?"
Padmé's lips quivered, then curved into the brightest smile she'd worn all year.
"It's the best. I've never felt this happy. Even with my planet invaded, detoured to Tatooine, and everything that's happened… you showed me miracles I'd never imagined. Though…", "…I still wish your power was light, like the Jedi."
Jin-Woo's fingers brushed the last tear from her cheek.. "I can't change what I am. I am the darkness of space. A dark king—the one who rules the dead. That is me. But you… you might fill the role I lack. You can be the star that twinkles in that darkness."
Padmé tilted her head, her lips curving into a half-smirk.
"Hmm. A star?"
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed faintly, his voice calm, deliberate.
"Ever wonder why there is night and day?"
Padmé's sarcasm came sharp, quick, like a teenager throwing a jab.
"It's because the planet rotates around the sun, right? Even children know that."
Jin-Woo's thought flickered, dry and cutting. A bratty fourteen-year-old, showing her spine.
Padmé folded her arms, smirk widening.
"Yes. I just won an argument against you. Never expected you'd be the one caught stunted."
Jin-Woo ignored the jab, his gaze drifting out over Naboo's horizon where the night sky stretched endless.
"The day represents where people live, work, and carry on their lives. The night… some of it symbolizes darkness, evil. But there's beauty in it too. The stars, the moon—they would never shine so beautifully if the canvas were white. Their brilliance only exists because of the darkness."
Padmé's voice trembled slightly, her royal mask slipping away into something rawer, younger.
"Jin-Woo… I can't be what you expect me to be. For once, I think—it will be hard for you to become my husband. I'm Queen Amidala of Naboo. There's bureaucracy, rules, expectations. Even something as simple as eating in a marketplace has consequences. And I've realized something… it's the opposite of what I thought."
Her eyes lowered, the words spilling like quiet confession.
"You're powerful—beyond anyone. And me? I'm nothing like your other wives. I don't have the Force like Rey or Talon. I don't command the same presence Morgan does—she's like your second in command. They all contribute to you. But me? I'm always the one receiving help from you. Do you think I'm worthy to become one of your wives? What do you even see in me? Other than being Queen of Naboo, I'm just… a fourteen-year-old girl."
The silence lingered, the sounds of celebration far below, until Jin-Woo stepped closer. He kissed her lips once, firmly, then pulled her into his arms. His voice was low, but filled with the iron weight of his conviction.
"You deserve happiness, Padmé. You're like a diamond buried in mud, surrounded by stones. Right now, you don't see your value. You don't know it yourself. But one day, the mud will scatter, and that diamond will shine in its true beauty."
"What I see in you isn't weakness. I see a girl who wants to change—who refuses to grow stale, or decline into rot. That's why you're worthy.."
Padmé's breath caught as she dropped to one knee before him—not as a queen accepting the pledge of her knight, but in the reverse. She was merely the ruler of Naboo, bound by the weight of her people's will, her duty tying her every step. But Jin-Woo… he commanded not just planets, but entire realms. The world of eternal slumber, the army of shadows that bowed only to him, the darkness itself bent to his will. She didn't know the full height of his strength, but she could sense it—that even the galaxy itself would never be enough to make him smile.
Her voice trembled but carried the steel of her vow.
"Will Jin-Woo, King of the Dead, ruler of darkness itself, and head of the Purple England Company… accept this stiff girl, who couldn't even defend Naboo on her own, whose knight had to do ninety-nine percent of the work for her? Will you accept me—Padmé Naberrie Amidala—as your wife?"
Jin-Woo's eyes softened, though his presence remained as vast and heavy as ever. He reached out, brushing her cheek before lowering his head slightly.
"I accept. Whether you realize your value sooner or later, I will accept you as my fourth wife."