The atmosphere shifted.
A subtle tension crept through the room like a breeze before a storm. Ministers exchanged glances. Courtiers leaned ever so slightly forward. Something unspoken hung in the air.
Jade stood where he had always stood—in the center of duty, poised and unmoved. His face, calm and unreadable, turned slightly toward the throne. He met Genie's gaze without faltering, his dark eyes steady beneath the weight of a thousand eyes upon him.
Then Genie smiled—a slow, confident smile that brimmed with both warmth and authority.
"You will be the Minister of Military Affairs," she declared, "the highest position overseeing all military forces in the Hana Kingdom as the former minister has retired honorably alongside my father, the Former King Gen."
Gasps broke the surface of decorum—small, stifled sounds of disbelief. Whispers surged like a sudden wave through the ranks of officials. The appointment was unexpected… bold. But totally understandable.
But Jade remained still. Serene. Composed. As if he had long known his path would lead here.
From across the room, Minister Moonsen studied him with quiet admiration. Jade's expression had not changed, but Moonsen saw something few others did—a quiet strength that never sought recognition.
'He deserves to be in that position,' Moonsen thought, his respect deepening.
Genie let the murmurs fade, then raised a hand to still them completely.
"With respect to your new positions," she said, her voice once again commanding, "from this day forward, I ask that you address one another by your official titles within the court. That includes all assemblies, councils, and audiences. Only I," she added, her tone lightening slightly, "will retain the privilege of calling people by their direct names."
A ripple of acknowledgment passed through the hall—some nodding in formality, others merely processing the changes.
Genie paused for a heartbeat. She could feel the atmosphere, taut with the weight of shifting roles and redefined boundaries. Yet she met it head-on.
"This meeting is not merely a place for tradition," she said, her voice deepening, "but for action. For the next three months, I ask each department to submit a full report on its current operations, challenges, and plans for the future. Transparency and coordination will be the foundation of our reforms."
Her gaze swept across the sea of robes and ranks.
"If our people suffer, or if urgent matters arise, do not hesitate. Come to me directly. My office is always open."
Then, she took one final step toward the edge of the dais, her presence commanding, unwavering.
"And lastly," she said slowly, "the position you stand in right now… is not a symbol of privilege. It is a position of responsibility—one that exists solely for the good of the people."
The room stilled. Even the air seemed to bow in reverence.
"Please," Genie added, her voice low but firm, "never forget that."
All around her, ministers and officials bowed deeply. Not out of ceremony—but respect. There was no mistaking it now. She was no longer Princess Genie.
She was Queen Genie.
Jade stood at attention in the hall, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. It wasn't just the royal officials or the courtiers who were affected by the Queen's transformation—he too felt it.
'She's different,' he thought, the realization striking him with quiet certainty.
The resolve she'd shown during the coronation preparations, the strength in her voice as she commanded the room, was not just a veneer of power. It ran deeper—etched into her very being.
She was not the Princess Genie of old, the girl he had sworn to protect. She had become Queen Genie, and with that title came an authority that felt as natural as the throne she now claimed.
The moment of silence stretched, heavy and purposeful. Genie stood before them, radiating the command of a ruler who had long known her destiny, even if the world had not.
Her eyes swept across the hall, meeting the gazes of the officials and attendants.
"This concludes today's meeting," she announced. Her voice, while calm, held an undeniable weight. "If anyone has anything to say to me, please speak now."
The words hung in the air, an invitation—but also a subtle challenge. To speak now would mean standing before the Queen at her first full assembly. It would mean offering thoughts that could shape the future of her reign.
For a moment, the room remained still. Then, with deliberate steps, Minister Han Son of the Ministry of Culture moved forward.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice formal but tinged with respect, "we are all waiting for the proclamation of your consort—the one who will stand beside you and rule this nation together."
He paused, bowing his head deeply before looking up at her with a respectful, yet probing gaze.
"What are your thoughts on the matter?"
The royal officials nodded in unanimous agreement, their expressions a mixture of understanding and silent approval.
But for Jade, standing amidst the sea of royal figures, a sudden weight pressed upon his chest. The tension that had been mounting throughout the assembly hall seemed to solidify into a tangible thing. His heart sank with a thud, as if some invisible force had come down upon him.
It was, in a way, an obvious matter.
In the kingdom of Hana, tradition dictated that a king or queen should be married before ascending the throne. The consort was not merely a companion—they were a partner in governance, a symbol of unity and strength, and an essential safeguard for the future of the kingdom. The empty seat beside Queen Genie, vacant and unclaimed, was not just a reminder of what was missing. It was a liability, a vulnerability in the delicate balance of power.
Without a consort, the throne stood precariously. The question of succession would hang like a dark cloud over her reign, and every whisper in the court would grow louder.
Jade clenched his jaw as the voices around him grew more pronounced.
Minister Lee Baewon, a man who had regained his position through Queen Genie's favor, was the next to speak, his tone respectful but urgent.
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Minister Lee said, bowing slightly. "Even during the reign of the former king, the lack of a named successor brought much difficulty. The people, too, desire a consort to aid you and secure the future of Hana."
His words were not meant as criticism—at least, not in the conventional sense. But they cut deeper than any formal report. They highlighted a truth Genie could not ignore, no matter how strong her resolve. She needed to marry—soon, or the kingdom could spiral into uncertainty.
Genie, however, remained composed. She took in the words of her officials with quiet gratitude but did not let the pressure of their expectations overwhelm her.
"Thank you for your valuable thoughts," she said, her voice steady, "but I have only just begun my duties as Queen. To think of a consort at this stage feels burdensome. The task ahead is immense, and I must first establish a foundation for my reign. But it doesn't mean that I will delay that task."
She let her gaze settle on each of the ministers, giving them time to absorb her decision.
"Minister Han Son," she continued, her tone firm, "please discuss with the other ministers and present a plan regarding the proclamation of a royal consort. Now moving on…"
As the meeting began to draw to a close, the murmur of voices filled the hall, but Jade's mind was elsewhere. He stood motionless, his gaze fixed upon the Queen.
Her eyes met his briefly, their depths full of unspoken understanding.
Jade's heart skipped, then faltered, a strange hollow sensation swelling in his chest. There was something about her gaze—a moment of connection—but also of distance.
It wasn't the usual exchange of familiarity, of shared history. There was an unmistakable change, a divide that neither of them could bridge.
Quickly, he looked away, as though trying to escape the pull of her gaze, the weight of his own thoughts. He didn't know why, but it felt as though something inside him had been hollowed out.
The meeting concluded, and Queen Genie retreated to the King's chambers, her presence lingering in the air even after her departure.
Jade, however, had a different path to walk. The weight of his new title settled heavily upon him, a constant reminder of the responsibility that came with being appointed Minister of Military Affairs. As he moved his belongings to the chief office at the Ministry, the gravity of his position grew clearer with each step.
The office was a vast, formal space. Maps of Hana's military districts, reports on regional defenses, and intelligence documents lined the walls. The scent of fresh ink and parchment filled the air as Jade methodically began to organize the new phase of his life. This wasn't just about strategy or leadership—it was about the kingdom's future, about the promises he'd made long ago.
Without hesitation, Jade appointed Danjin, his most trusted subordinate, as the royal official to oversee the Ministry of Military Affairs in the palace. Danjin, a loyal and capable officer, was a steady hand to manage the intricacies of the day-to-day operations.
But Jade's first task, the one that carried the most weight, was to address the warriors—the heart and soul of Hana's military force.