Phantom Menace Arc 053 : Gorog Problem

Across from him, Elena Daru blinked as she noticed his strange, quiet expression.

"Um… Miss Morgan?" she whispered. "Does Jin-Woo… always smile like that?"

Morgan chuckled, arms crossed, leaning slightly toward her. "You're asking me that," she said, half amused. "Even after I told you he's a little whacko sometimes?"

She waved a hand toward Jin-Woo as if the answer was obvious. "You should be asking him, not me."

Elena flushed and gave an embarrassed smile, looking down. "…R-Right."

After a few quiet minutes, the group departed the Lucky Despot and moved through the outskirts of Mos Espa toward Anakin's small hovel. The streets were calmer . Whispers still circled about the sky-blackening dreadnought that had vanished as quickly as it came.

When Jin-Woo opened the door and stepped inside the hovel, he was met immediately by a familiar voice.

Qui-Gon Jinn, arms folded, leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow at him. "Mind telling me, "why half of Tatooine thinks the end of days just arrived?"

Jin-Woo didn't miss a beat. "Maybe the suns went down," he said with a straight face, then added with a tiny smirk, "Both of them."

Rey, standing a little behind Qui-Gon, crossed her arms and gave him a slow look—part exasperated, part impressed. The Mantle's Approach… even for just a few moments… that wasn't a good idea, Jin-Woo, she thought silently.

But Jin-Woo just sighed and rolled his shoulders. "So," he said, stepping further in, "can we switch topics to something more useful?"

Padmé, who had been seated at the edge of the table, perked up and folded her arms in turn.

"Yes, actually," she said pointedly. "Qui-Gon is about to bid your ship in the next podrace. Which, personally, I think is unwise. You must be thinking like me on this, right, Jin-Woo?"

Jin-Woo's response was deadpan. "Sure, Qui-Gon," he said, walking toward the table. "Let's bet my ship. The Defender-class light corvette. Sounds fun. Might liven things up."

Padmé's head jerked slightly, her jaw dropping a bit. "Ehhh—Jin-Woo," she blurted, "are you drunk?"

Jin-Woo tilted his head at Padmé's outburst, eyes flat. "No," he replied dryly, "but maybe I should be."

Then, without missing a beat, he turned his gaze toward Shmi and Anakin, "Oh, right," he said, "Almost forgot. I wanted to show you both a magic trick."

He raised both hands slowly, palms closed. "Anakin," he said casually, "wanna guess what's inside?"

Anakin arched a brow, caught off guard by the sudden shift. He played along, smirking a little. "Let me guess…" he said, cocking his head. "Someone I'll punch in the future , because you somehow removed my slave chip. And my mom's too."

Then Jin-Woo opened both palms. Sitting in each of his hands were two tiny, scorched metal devices—clearly inactive. Slave tracking chips.

. Anakin blinked once, then again, slowly lowering his arms as realization hit. "…Huh?" he said, confused. "Wait. I… I said the right thing?"

Shmi's hand flew to her neck instinctively. She touched the bare skin, eyes wide—disbelieving. Gone. The implant was gone.

Her knees wavered slightly. She stepped forward, tears already welling in her eyes as her hand touched her son's shoulder. "I…" she breathed, voice trembling, "I don't know how to thank you. You freed us, Jin-Woo. How… how can I ever repay you?"

Jin-Woo didn't reply. He merely turned his head, gaze drifting across the room until it settled on the Daughter—still leaning quietly against the wall.

The Daughter blinked, arms crossed. Her tone was dry. "…Why are you looking at me like I'm causing trouble?" she asked. "No one knows what we talked about in that Toydarian shop. Except Qui-Gon. And Morgan."

Jin-Woo shrugged slightly, his voice calm. "Nah. It's not that." He tilted his head faintly. "It's just… everything's running so smooth."

But in his thoughts, something deeper stirred. I wonder… what if Anakin were trained by the Mortis Gods instead of just Obi-Wan… or Qui-Gon? Would things really be different?

A silence lingered before Qui-Gon spoke up, his eyes still sharp and quietly observant.

"There's something about you, Jin-Woo," he said slowly. "Something that tells me—even if your midichlorian count is zero… the same as a corpse—you're still capable of using the Force."

Jin-Woo raised a brow slightly, then replied with a faint grin, "Maybe because I'm the protagonist of an isekai?"

Qui-Gon gave a small, thoughtful nod, but didn't smile. His thoughts ran deeper, guarded behind his calm demeanor.

The technique he used to free Anakin and Shmi… It felt like… healing. It was the Force. Or something incredibly close to it.

And if what the Daughter says is true—that Jin-Woo is an outsider—then he shouldn't be capable of Force healing. Not without a strong connection. So either… he's lying. Or I'm missing a piece. Something crucial.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

At the front of Watto's parts shop, the desert heat pressed down like a slow exhale. Jin-Woo stood with his arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, as Morgan, Qui-Gon, and Padmé walked up beside him.

Padmé folded her arms and fixed him with a glare. "Jin-Woo," she said, tone sharp, "I want your honest point of view. You were about to bet our only ship—the Defender-class light corvette—on a podrace. And the pilot? A kid we barely know."

Jin-Woo tilted his head, eyes flicking lazily to her. "Who said I was betting that ship?" he said flatly. "I meant my own."

Morgan leaned forward, hand on her hip, an amused smirk on her lips. "You did say it before, actually. Pretty clearly. But now you're changing your plan again. Very typical of you. Just like how we're wealthy enough to buy half of Tatooine—and, here we are. Still gambling like degenerates."

Qui-Gon nodded quietly, observing without judgment. But in his mind, the thought echoed with clarity. Does he have an addiction to trouble? It's like he pokes at everyone on purpose…

Padmé's brow furrowed. Then her eyes widened slightly as realization clicked in. "…Oh. Wait. You did buy us a hangar in Mos Espa earlier today. And it had multiple ships inside. I just forgot—"

Morgan cut in smoothly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. " He's not just a whacko anymore. He's a lunatic now."

Then, without changing her posture, she leaned in between Qui-Gon and Padmé, her voice dropping to a whisper as her eyes flicked toward the far end of the street.

"There's a spy droid. Trade Federation. It's floating just out of visual range… but hasn't spotted us yet."

She subtly gestured toward the sleek, round-headed probe drifting through the heat shimmer, scanning the area .

Morgan's voice turned even lower. "Jin-Woo's plan is to lure out the man behind the curtain. He wants to do it in the open ."

Padmé's lips tightened, but she gave a small nod in understanding.

Qui-Gon said nothing. He simply stood still, calm as stone, but his hand moved ever so slightly toward the hilt of his lightsaber—ready.

The group stepped into Watto's junk shop.

Watto turned the moment he saw them, flapping his wings aggressively as he floated up to confront Jin-Woo. "Outlander!" he barked, his snout twitching. "What are you doing with my slave?!"

Jin-Woo didn't break stride. He simply stopped in front of the counter and dropped two small, metallic objects with a clink—slave chip implants. "You're fucked," Jin-Woo said plainly. "That's all."

Watto's bulbous eyes widened as he recognized the chips—his mouth opened, then closed again, sputtering. "I-I'll report this!" he stammered. "I'll go to the Hutts! They'll hear of this!"

Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly, voice flat and dangerous. "You sure about that?" he asked. "You already made an enemy of Gardulla. You think Jabba will help you now? Shitttt... you really don't know how deep you've sunk."

Watto flapped backward in the air, nostrils flaring as his wings buzzed frantically. "You already robbed me!" he squawked. "So why the hell are you back here?!"

Jin-Woo didn't blink. He stepped forward, casual but cold, and dropped a clean statement like a hammer.

"I'm here to declare my sponsorship," he said. "For Anakin. At the upcoming Boonta Classic."

He held Watto's gaze, unflinching. "And I want their freedom. Their official freedom. Anakin and Shmi."

Watto's eyes narrowed, tusks twitching. "That's a hell of a lot you're asking for, Outlander. What are you betting?"

Jin-Woo shrugged once, calm as ever. "I own the Lucky Despot," he said. "Is that enough?"

Watto froze, his eyes widening. "Bullshit," he spat. "Lady Valarian owns that! You crazy, Outlander? That's the most expensive casino on Tatooine!"

Jin-Woo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small holo-projector. He set it down on the counter with a light click.

A flicker of blue light expanded upward—displaying a full ownership log. Deed transfers. Authority codes. All listed under his name.

Jin-Woo leaned forward slightly, his face blank, "Tell me I'm bullshit," Jin-Woo said, slow and deliberate. "I dare you, motherfucker."

Watto's face twisted in disbelief, wings twitching erratically as he shouted, "Hoohah! You expect me to believe that?! How the hell did you come to own the Lucky Despot?! That's impossible—how?!"

Jin-Woo was about to answer, one hand already raising toward the projector—

—but then came the screams.

"GET OUT OF MOS ESPAAA!" someone shrieked from the street. "A GOROG IS LOOSE! IT'S OUT OF CONTROL—IT'S TEARING THROUGH THE MARKET!!"

A wave of panic erupted outside—shouts, the crashing of stalls, Another voice rang out, closer and more desperate.

"A Jedi! A Jedi's about to fight it!!"

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. His body tensed in an instant. "…Obi-Wan," he muttered under his breath, then bolted for the door without hesitation. "I have to help him!"

He was already gone before anyone could stop him, cloak snapping as he disappeared into the chaos.

Morgan, who hadn't moved an inch, only turned her head toward Jin-Woo. Her lips curled into a dry smirk as her thoughts slipped through the bond.

So much for sending all five Gorogs within an hour, huh, Jin-Woo?

Padmé, stared at Jin-Woo with growing suspicion. She said nothing—but her thoughts were loud, razor-edged. This has your fingerprints all over it, Jin-Woo. I don't know what happened—but I know it starts with you

On the streets of Mos Espa, chaos spread fast. Several buildings had already collapsed, but by some miracle, there were no major civilian casualties—at least not yet.

Through the dust cloud, Obi-Wan moved quickly, ducking beneath the massive swipes of the rampaging Gorog. The towering creature roared as it tore through a speeder rack, tossing it like a toy across the square.

Qui-Gon arrived beside his Padawan, lightsaber ignited and expression tense.

"Obi-Wan! Have the civilians been evacuated?" he called, eyes scanning the wreckage.

"Some," Obi-Wan replied between breaths. "But there was… a disturbance. A strong one. It happened right when I was near Jin-Woo's ship." His tone hardened. "Like a storm in the Force. That's the signal I felt—just before this beast showed up ."

Qui-Gon's brows furrowed. "Then we need to get this thing away from Mos Espa. Fast."

As if answering, the Gorog slammed both of its fists into the ground, sending a violent tremor rippling across the street. Stone cracked. Market stalls flipped. The quake echoed down the alleyways.

Obi-Wan steadied himself with one hand, gritting his teeth.

"Right now, Master," he muttered grimly, "we're ants… and that thing? That thing's a boot."

Before Qui-Gon could reply, a sharp gust cut through the air—followed by a blur of black and motion. Jin-Woo bolted past them at breakneck speed, twin beskar blades gleaming in his grip. He charged straight at the Gorog.

Then, like a spinning top of death, Jin-Woo twisted mid-leap—becoming a living whirlwind. The twin blades slashed icarving through the Gorog's thick forearm and grazing across its jawline. Though the cuts weren't deep, they were enough to spray thick, dark blood across the cracked stones. With a vicious snarl, Jin-Woo drove one of his blades straight into the Gorog's eye. A guttural roar split the air. The beast thrashed violently as one of its eyes burst in a geyser of gore. Blinded on one side, the Gorog howled in rage and pain, stumbling back and crushing an entire wall with its flailing limbs.

Jin-Woo flipped back midair, landed in a crouch, then sprinted toward Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's position.

"You almost finished it!" Obi-Wan shouted. "Why hesitate?!"

ROAAAARRRRGGHHHHHHHHH!

The Gorog's scream shook the ground again—deeper, louder, now full of blind fury. It pounded its chest with a thunderous boom and began smashing everything around it without aim.

Jin-Woo exhaled, standing beside them, both blades dripping with black blood.

"My blades…" he said calmly, eyes sharp. "They're not deep enough."

Obi-Wan glanced sideways, still catching his breath.

"Then maybe," he offered, "you should try a lightsaber instead."

Jin-Woo didn't hesitate.

"No," he said flatly. "If I take one of yours, you'll both be defenseless."

A moment of quiet passed, broken not by words, but by thought. Two voices rang through Jin-Woo's mind—teasing, familiar.

Morgan's voice came first, her tone laced with dry amusement.

It's your fault, Jin-Woo, she said smoothly. You forced Black Sun to bring all their assets to the table during that gambling match. You cleaned them out… but you didn't count on how dangerous a Gorog really is.

Rey chimed in next, her tone more serious. Jin-Woo. I've got a better plan forming. But I need sixty seconds. One full minute. That's all I ask. Just hold it off.

Morgan added with a quiet, amused hum. Or… you could just go full unsealed and announce to the galaxy you're the strongest existence alive. But I'd rate that a 'terrible idea' out of ten, unless you're into ruining dramatic tension.

Jin-Woo's mouth twitched. He turned toward the rampaging Gorog as it crushed another speeder into flaming scrap. "Alright," he muttered. "One minute it is."

He took a step forward, then glanced back at the Jedi. "Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan—time to play tag. Use any telekinesis tricks you've got and throw whatever you can at it. I'll handle the rest."

Obi-Wan gave a curt nod, already moving into position.

Qui-Gon, however, narrowed his eyes.

"And then what?" he asked. "You sure you'll be alright getting smashed by that thing's giant hand?"

Jin-Woo cracked a sideways grin. "The Force is with us, right? Plot armor and stuff?"

"That's not how the Force works," Obi-Wan deadpanned.

Before anyone could add more, the Gorog roared and hurled a mangled speeder straight at Jin-Woo. Without missing a beat, Jin-Woo dashed forward, slicing through the air with his twin beskar blades. He slashed the Gorog across the chest in a rising arc, black blood spraying from the wound.

"Catch you after one minute," Jin-Woo called out—already gone, kicking off the ground and vanishing into motion like a blur, dancing through the air at full speed. The Gorog bellowed furiously and gave chase, thundering after him down the street.