The realization struck him like a gust of cold wind. Of course she knew. How could he have underestimated her? She was no naïve monarch perched on a ceremonial throne. She was sharp, watchful, and not easily deceived.
And yet, a flicker of unease stirred in his chest—not because she had discovered the truth, but because if she knew… then the time to act was far shorter than he had hoped.
'If she already knows this much… could she also suspect who I am?'
The thought struck like a whisper of dread. Jade's breath caught for a moment.
'No. That can't be. If she did, she would never have summoned me so calmly—would never have spoken to me this way.'
He forced his expression to remain steady, his posture composed, though beneath the surface, unease rippled through him like cracks in glass.
Across the table, Queen Genie tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but in concern.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
Jade blinked, then offered a faint smile, practiced and smooth.
"Not at all, Your Majesty," he said, his voice even.
'Yes… she doesn't know. There's no way she suspects me.'
But even as he reassured himself, his gaze met hers—and faltered. Her eyes were clear, gentle… trusting. Too trusting.
And that trust pierced him like a blade to the heart.
Every moment she looked at him without suspicion, every word spoken with faith in his loyalty, made the guilt twist deeper. It wasn't just what he was hiding—it was the weight of what that trust would become if the truth were ever revealed.
Then her voice broke the silence again—soft, but firm.
"There is one more thing I must ask you."
Jade straightened, instinctively bracing himself.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Her next words struck with the precision of an arrow.
"It's about the assassins who targeted you that day."
His heart dropped.
"One of them fell before you, struck by my arrow," Genie said, her gaze unwavering. "But the other… the one in the mountains—he staggered and fled after I shot him."
She leaned forward slightly.
"You remember him, don't you?"
Her sharp eyes locked onto his, sudden and probing, catching Jade off guard. His breath hitched—just slightly—but it was enough.
He looked away, composing himself before replying.
"…Yes, I remember, Your Majesty."
A pause.
"But what I don't understand…" she said slowly, her voice cooling into something more precise, more suspicious, "…is why you haven't ordered an investigation."
Her eyes narrowed, doubt creeping in around the edges of her words.
"Why haven't you tried to track them down? These were not petty bandits. They were trained assassins—sent to kill a royal commander on Hana soil. And yet you remained silent."
Each word struck like a quiet accusation, more piercing than if she had raised her voice.
Jade felt the noose tighten.
Back at the palace, following a brief but much-needed midday rest, Enna emerged from her quarters once more. Her steps were lighter now, the fatigue of the morning dulled, though a lingering ache in her legs reminded her of the long journey from the Western Village.
Wanting to familiarize herself further with the vast and winding layout of the royal grounds—especially before officially assuming her responsibilities as master cook—she decided to explore a different direction from the one she had taken earlier.
The winter air bit at her skin the moment she stepped outside. Sharp and dry, it stung her cheeks and nose, prompting her to pull her heavy cloak tighter around her shoulders. Snowflakes danced through the air, catching in her hair and lashes, but she pressed on, determined.
After some time wandering along quiet corridors and open walkways, something caught her eye—a narrow, hidden path tucked between two long stretches of palace wall. It was half-covered in snow, nearly lost beneath the gnarled shadows of bare tree branches that clawed overhead. But it was a path nonetheless.
'Where does that lead?'
Curiosity sparked, Enna stepped closer. She gently brushed aside the snow-dusted branches, heart fluttering with a strange mix of caution and wonder, and slipped into the narrow trail.
She had barely taken more than a few steps when voices drifted through the cold air—low and clipped, carried on the wind like something not meant to be heard.
"If there's even a trace of treason, uncover it. Leave nothing behind."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
The chill that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the weather. The icy calm in the speaker's tone made her blood turn cold.
'I… I shouldn't be here.'
Her breath caught. Every instinct screamed at her to leave, but she knew better than to run. Steeling herself, Enna began to retreat, placing each foot with deliberate care, praying that the snow wouldn't betray her with a crunch.
But then—
Whoosh.
A blade tore through the air, halting just inches from her throat.
"Huh…!"
She froze, eyes wide with terror, staring at the gleaming edge of the sword now hovering in front of her neck.
"How much did you hear?"
A cold blade pressed against Enna's neck, and a shiver surged down her spine like ice water. Her breath hitched. The steel's biting chill sent panic racing through her veins. She dared not move, dared not even swallow.
Unable to turn her head, she forced a response past her trembling lips. "N-nothing… I didn't hear anything…!"
"Did you truly hear nothing?" the voice repeated, lower and more menacing now.
"I-I swear… I heard nothing…"
But then, another voice—colder, devoid of mercy—cut through the air like a sharpened blade.
"Stop wasting time. Just get rid of her."
"Understood."
Enna saw the glint of steel flash above her in her periphery.
Her heart stopped.
She shut her eyes tightly as terror overtook her—This is it. I'm going to die.
Thwack!
Thud!
Clang!
The sword meant to end her life clattered to the stone floor, its blade skittering uselessly across the ground.
At the same instant, the two masked men who had cornered her dropped like felled trees. Their black hoods still veiled their faces, revealing only a glimpse of wide, startled eyes.
Enna gasped, staggering back and finally whipping her head around.
There, standing between her and the assailants like a wall of resolve—Jade.
Jade's sharp gaze was fixed on the attackers. His breathing was steady, fists clenched, his stance poised like a warrior ready for more. He had dispatched them with nothing but precise, brutal strikes—his fists and kicks landing with calculated force.
The two men groaned, struggling back to their feet. They now bared their swords, their movements laced with fury and shame.
Without a word, they lunged toward Jade—blades raised high, eyes blazing with lethal intent.
Dodging the simultaneous strikes with fluid ease, Jade stepped back and, in one swift motion, drew the blade from his waist. Moonlight gleamed along its edge, casting a cold shimmer in the night.
With dazzling precision, he parried both attackers' swords, metal shrieking against metal as sparks flew between them. His movements were sharp, decisive—an elegant blend of discipline and power.
But in the chaos, one of the masked men abruptly shifted direction and broke into a sprint toward Enna, his blade raised to kill.
Jade's eyes flicked to the side.
In that split-second, he twisted his body, deflecting the strike aimed at his own abdomen with a sharp clang. Then, pivoting with explosive force, he lashed out with a spinning kick—his boot connecting hard with the attacker's ribs.
Crack.
The man stumbled and tumbled into the dirt, breath knocked out of him.
But the second assailant was already closing in from the left, blade arcing downward for Jade's shoulder.
"Minister!!!"
A voice rang out through the trees—familiar and desperate.
Danjin.
Startled by the approaching reinforcements, the two assailants froze for the briefest moment, eyes darting between Jade and the newcomer.
Without a word, they made their decision.
Clang. Clang.
Their swords hit the ground, abandoned in the grass, and they turned heel—bolting across the open meadow and vanishing into the night like phantoms.
Jade took one step forward, ready to give chase—but then he stopped. Something in his gut told him to let them go. Not now.
He turned back.
"Minister!!!"
Danjin, panting heavily, rushed to Jade's side. His eyes widened at the fallen blades, the broken ground, the trembling woman beside them.
"W-what happened here?"
Still composed, Jade turned to Enna, his tone suddenly gentle—strikingly so after the violence just moments before.
"Are you alright?"
Enna stared up at him, her heart pounding. Her lips parted, but no words came. The world felt unreal, like a waking dream she hadn't yet escaped.
"I… Y-yes… I'm all right," she murmured at last, her voice faint and quivering.
Vice Commander Danjin stepped forward, urgently tightening his voice.
"Minister! Shouldn't we pursue them?"
Jade didn't even glance in the direction the masked men had fled. His eyes remained on the trembling woman before him.
"There's no need."
Danjin blinked, visibly baffled.
"No need? But—why not?"
Enna, still pale and disoriented, shifted her gaze to Jade as well, waiting for an explanation.
Jade spoke evenly, but there was a quiet edge to his voice—measured and deliberate. "Bandits have been appearing frequently in this area over the past few weeks. Those men are part of that group. If we chased them now, they'd only lead us straight into a trap. Their den is likely guarded and prepared. We'll deal with them thoroughly—on our terms. Not theirs."
He paused, then gave a firm nod toward Enna.
"For now, make sure this lady returns safely. That's the priority."
Danjin exhaled, realization dawning across his face.
"Ah… so those are the same ones the patrol squads have been reporting lately. Understood, Minister!"
He turned to Enna, who still looked stunned, as if her mind hadn't quite caught up with what had just happened.
"Miss, where in the palace are you headed? I'll escort you."