The air was warm and still as Queen Genie's procession arrived at the entrance of the Westen Village, the sound of hooves muffled by the soft earth. A flurry of movement stirred near the village gates—there, the magistrate dropped to his knees, his forehead nearly touching the ground.
"Your Majesty," he called out, voice trembling with reverence. "Thank you—thank you so much for coming all this way to visit our humble village!"
Queen Genie, clad in a modest but elegant riding cloak that bore the seal of the royal house, gracefully dismounted from her horse. Her eyes, keen yet compassionate, swept across the village like a gentle breeze through wheat fields. Though her gaze was calm, it held quiet urgency.
"How is the village?" she asked, her voice composed but laced with concern. "Are the wounded being treated properly?"
The magistrate rose, hands still clasped in front of him, and bowed again.
"Under Minister Jade's command, the Special Forces from the capital arrived in time to secure the perimeter. Thanks to their swift intervention, there was no significant destruction. However…" He hesitated briefly, glancing toward the western road. "During the raid, a few villagers near the rear gate sustained injuries. They are currently being treated at the clinic. Minister Jade is attending to them now. Shall I escort Your Majesty there?"
"Yes, please," Genie replied with a slight nod.
And so they moved, the Queen and her retinue walking behind the magistrate through the narrow village streets. As word spread of her arrival, villagers emerged from their homes, some still in healing bandages, others clutching children or tools paused mid-work.
"Your Majesty!" cried an elderly woman, her back hunched but spirit firm. "You came all this way… we are deeply honored!"
"The Queen herself!" murmured others in disbelief. "What grace…"
Queen Genie met each pair of eyes with warmth. She offered nods, faint smiles, and even a few kind words. Her presence, dignified and serene, seemed to steady the air itself. In her heart, a quiet prayer bloomed.
'Thank You, Lord for watching over them.'
The scent of herbs and liniment filled the air as they approached the village clinic—a small building now overflowing with both pain and hope. Within, the faint cries of the injured were met with gentle, practiced voices of court physicians sent directly from the palace.
The moment the Queen stepped onto the threshold, every court physician present halted their work and moved to the front, bowing deeply in unison.
"Welcome, Your Majesty."
Genie's eyes took in the sight quickly—the beds, the dressings, the hastily prepared salves—and her voice rang with compassion and command.
"You've all worked tirelessly," she said. "Please, do not let my presence interrupt your duty. Continue tending to the wounded. That is the highest service you can offer right now."
The physicians nodded and quietly returned to their patients.
Turning to the magistrate once more, Queen Genie asked, "Do we have enough court physicians here to care for everyone?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Thanks to the many physicians sent from the palace, all the wounded are receiving proper care," the magistrate assured.
Queen Genie slowly walked deeper into the clinic, her steps quiet on the packed dirt floor. The soft groans of pain and murmurs of comfort echoed against the thin walls, yet there was a strange sense of order—each of the wounded villagers lay on neatly arranged temporary beds, and by each bedside knelt a court physician tending to their injuries with practiced care.
Genie's gaze swept across the room. Less than twenty were injured, she counted with a careful eye. Fewer than she feared—but even one would have been too many. Her jaw tensed subtly.
'But where is Jade?' she wondered.
She hadn't yet seen his tall figure, nor heard the familiar steady tone of his voice.
Turning back to the magistrate, she asked quietly, "Where is Minister Jade being treated?"
The magistrate shifted awkwardly. "He was just here a moment ago…"
Before he could continue, a young physician stepped lightly into the courtyard, arms full of fresh bandages. Hearing the Queen's inquiry, he bowed and answered respectfully.
"Your Majesty, Minister Jade was escorted to Lady Enna's residence not long ago. Lady Enna wished to provide him with quieter care."
"Lady Enna?" Genie's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar name, her tone controlled, yet touched with curiosity.
The magistrate immediately explained, "Your Majesty, Lady Enna is the daughter of Elder Park—one of the elder statesmen of our village. Minister Jade was moved to their home for privacy and comfort, it seems. Shall I escort you?"
"Yes, please," Genie replied at once.
Though her voice remained steady, a subtle shift passed through her features—like a shadow of thought crossing moonlit water.
The Queen's guards closed in with quiet discipline as she followed the magistrate down a shaded path lined with blooming trumpet vines and clay-tiled rooftops. Villagers respectfully moved aside, bowing low as the procession passed. With each step, Genie felt her mind stir—not with suspicion, but something quieter, something more tangled.
'Lady Enna…'
A name she didn't know. A woman she had not met. Yet somehow, the image of Seo Jade—wounded and being tended to by another woman in a private home—felt like a thorn against her composure.
Soon, the magistrate slowed before a wide wooden gate nestled in a cluster of stone pines.
"This is Elder Park's residence, Your Majesty."
The house was sturdy and elegant in a rural way, its walls washed with pale ochre and trimmed in dark wood, the door left slightly ajar to allow in the breeze.
One of the Queen's guards stepped forward and knocked firmly. A moment later, the door opened—and there stood Lady Enna.
She was young, perhaps a few years older than Genie, dressed in a simple lavender hanbok with her long hair braided neatly behind her. Her expression was composed, her posture graceful—yet the moment she saw the Queen, she lowered her eyes and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty," Enna said, her voice clear and reverent. "It is an honor to receive you."
Genie stepped forward, her expression unreadable.
"I've come to see Minister Jade."
Lady Enna straightened, her hands still clasped.
"Of course, Your Majesty. He's resting just inside."
She stepped aside and gestured toward the main room of the house.
Genie entered, her heart curiously heavy.
Inside Elder Park's study, warm afternoon light filtered through papered windows, casting soft shadows over the polished wooden floor. The scent of dried herbs and ink lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the sharp sweetness of the medicinal tea.
Minister Jade reclined on a low bed of woven reed and silk cushions, his torso wrapped in fresh white bandages. His shirt lay folded neatly to one side. Despite his injuries, there was a composed strength in the way he sat—upright, steady, quietly enduring.
Beside him knelt Lady Enna, her posture both reverent and slightly tense. A young maid waited quietly behind her, eyes lowered in careful deference.
"Minister," Enna said softly, "here's an herbal tea, prepared with restorative ginseng and dried rehmannia root. It should ease the inflammation."
She extended the small porcelain cup with both hands, the steam rising between them.
"Thank you," Jade replied with a nod, his voice low but clear.
He shifted his weight carefully and sat up straighter. As he did, the blanket pooled around his waist, revealing the lean musculature of his torso—marked by fresh bruises and faint scars from past battles.
Enna's breath caught ever so slightly. She turned her gaze to the floor with a quiet gasp, cheeks flushing with color.
Jade, unaware or perhaps politely ignoring the moment, accepted the tea and took a slow sip.
Enna risked another glance.
His deep eyes—calm but distant—remained fixed on the far wall, as if already thinking of tomorrow's burden. His profile was striking: the clean line of his jaw, the elegant tension in his neck and shoulders. There was a solemn kind of beauty in him, like a marble statue just shy of life.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jade nodded once. "Much better, thanks to your hospitality. And the tea." He offered a faint smile, brief but genuine.
Then he began to move again, swinging his legs carefully over the side of the bed.
"But I should get up now," he said. "There's much to be done. I need to assess the village damage and prepare a full report before returning to the palace."
His words were practical—spoken like a soldier used to pushing past pain—but they carried a chill, as if duty alone held meaning.
Enna lowered her gaze, folding her hands tightly in her lap.
A subtle ache stirred in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was admiration or sorrow—perhaps both.
"Minister," she said, hesitating just a moment before continuing. "Please, won't you stay for dinner? I've prepared a meal for you myself."
She lifted her eyes, searching his face.
"It would be my honor."
For the first time, Jade looked at her directly.
Her expression was sincere, almost childlike in its earnestness. Not expectant—just quietly hopeful.
There was silence for a breath too long.
He studied her face—not with the eyes of a man drawn to beauty, but with the weariness of one who'd seen too many cities burn. Still, he softened, just a little.
"…All right," he said finally. "But only for a short while."
Enna's face lit with relief, though she quickly concealed it behind a graceful nod.