The Silhouette Chasing Him

With a final, regretful glance toward the faint glow of her chamber, Jade slipped into the shadows beyond the inn's front gate. His footsteps were swift and silent, swallowed by the thick veil of night.

The road before him stretched empty, eerily quiet. Not a soul stirred. Even the stray dogs that usually prowled these alleys had disappeared, as if the entire world were holding its breath.

Jade scanned his surroundings, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness. His senses were honed, every muscle in his body tense, coiled like a predator about to strike.

Then—there. A flicker of movement.

The hem of a black cloak vanished behind the crumbling wall of a thatched house to the left.

Jade didn't hesitate. He darted forward like an arrow released from the string, his sword drawn low, the blade glinting faintly under the pale light of the rising moon.

The figure must have caught the faint sound of pursuit, because a heartbeat later, they bolted again—deeper into the maze of narrow alleys. The chase was on.

Jade rounded the corner with a sharp pivot, his boots kicking up dust, just in time to catch sight of the man sprinting eastward, the edges of his dark cloak fluttering behind him like a shadow torn loose from the night itself.

'That silhouette… identical to before.'

His eyes narrowed in recognition. Cold certainty replaced suspicion, and his jaw tightened as a storm of emotions surged through him—anger, betrayal, something dangerously close to dread.

But he didn't waver. He ran harder.

The fugitive wasn't just running. He was moving with the lethal precision of a trained soldier. A quiver of arrows was strapped across his back, his right hand clutching one as he ran, ready to draw and strike.

'This isn't some hired blade. He knows what he's doing.'

But so did Jade. And he was gaining ground.

The narrow alleys soon gave way to the desolate outskirts of the village, where wild grasses whispered in the wind, and the looming shadow of the mountain stretched out before them like the mouth of some waiting beast.

Jade's breath came sharp and controlled, his focus narrowed to the single task of closing the distance.

Closer.

Closer.

Just as he surged forward, his blade lifted, catching the silver glimmer of moonlight—

Thwip.

A flash. A sharp, burning pain exploded through his right forearm. The arrow embedded itself cleanly, its shaft quivering as blood immediately began to seep around the wound.

"Ugh…!"

A searing jolt of pain shot through Jade's body, but he clenched his teeth and forced his gaze upward toward the mountain ridge.

Another figure in black darted swiftly across the slope above them, a shadow against the pale moonlight.

For a split second, Jade's focus wavered—and that was all it took.

The man he'd been chasing twisted his body with startling speed and drove a heavy fist straight into Jade's jaw.

Crack.

The blow landed clean, snapping his head to the side and sending him stumbling backward. The sharp, coppery tang of blood filled his mouth.

Even as his balance faltered, Jade willed himself to stay upright, narrowing his eyes at his attacker.

'Why is Gonse…?'

Recognition struck like lightning. There was no mistake.

Before he could react, Gonse had already drawn a gleaming dagger from his cloak and lunged with lethal intent.

Jade raised his longsword instinctively to parry, but the shaft of the arrow still embedded deep in his forearm made his movements sluggish. Strength—his strength—was abandoning him.

The dagger flashed past his face, a breath away from tearing into flesh. He staggered backward, narrowly dodging another vicious swing.

The pain in his arm pulsed with a maddening throb, each heartbeat sending fresh agony radiating through his limbs.

Then—Gonse lunged again, this time with reckless ferocity, shoulder slamming into Jade's weakened frame.

The world tilted.

With a harsh grunt, Jade collapsed onto the rocky ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.

Above him, Gonse loomed, breath ragged, eyes glinting with cold, murderous resolve.

The dagger rose high, aimed straight for Jade's chest.

Thwip.

With a sharp whistle slicing through the night, an arrow struck Gonse's right side—burying deep, dangerously close to his heart.

The dagger slipped from his grip, falling with a dull clatter onto the rocky ground.

"Urgh…!"

A strangled groan of agony tore from Gonse's throat as his knees buckled beneath him.

Jade jerked his head toward the source of the shot.

Not far away, standing tall with her bow still raised, was Queen Genie. Moonlight shimmered faintly along the curve of her drawn bowstring.

"Your Majesty…!"

Before he could utter another word, she was already in motion. Swiftly, she notched another arrow, drew back the string with practiced ease, and aimed higher—toward the fleeing silhouette scrambling up the mountain slope.

Her gaze didn't waver.

Thwip!

The arrow cut through the frigid night air with deadly precision, striking the assassin's shoulder. A cry echoed faintly through the hills as the man stumbled, his form teetering on the edge of the ridge before disappearing into the tangled shadows of the forest beyond.

For a heartbeat, only the hush of the night remained.

Lowering her bow, Genie dashed forward, skirts rustling, feet swift and sure over the uneven ground.

"Jade! Are you okay?!" Her voice trembled with urgency as she dropped to her knees beside him.

Jade gritted his teeth, fighting the searing pain in his arm, and forced out a reply. "I'm… fine, Your Majesty…"

But his words were thin and brittle, and the fresh bloom of blood seeping through his sleeve betrayed him.

Genie's gaze flicked to Gonse's fallen body—a motionless heap, lifeless, the shaft of her arrow rising from his chest like a brutal flag of victory.

Jade tried to push himself up, jaw clenched, but his limbs faltered.

Without hesitation, Genie slid her arm around his waist, steadying him.

"We have to get back to the palace," she whispered, fierce determination burning in her eyes. "Now."

The urgency in her voice left no room for argument.

Inside the royal infirmary, the steady scent of medicinal herbs mingled with the crisp night air seeping through the slightly open window. The royal physician worked with practiced precision, winding fresh linen bandages around Jade's bloodied arm.

Queen Genie stood close by, fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles pale.

Her voice was barely steady as she broke the silence. "Is he going to be all right?"

The physician glanced up with a calm, reassuring smile. "He will make a full recovery, Your Majesty. The wound was clean, and the bleeding has stopped. There's no need for worry."

Only then did Genie finally exhale the breath she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging under the weight of relief. 

Jade sat on the edge of the bed, his posture stiff with frustration rather than pain. He made to rise, but before he could fully lift himself, Genie reached out and pressed a hand firmly to his good shoulder.

"Don't move yet," she said softly but firmly.

"I'm fine," he muttered, shaking his head slightly as if trying to convince himself as much as her. "It's just… a scratch."

"A scratch…?" The words left her lips sharp, bitter. Her gaze dropped to the stark white bandages wrapping his wound, stained faintly with red. Her jaw tensed, as though biting back everything she wanted to say.

"It was treated immediately," the physician said gently, sensing the weight of her frustration. "With rest, he'll recover swiftly. Truly, there's no need to burden yourself with unnecessary worry, Your Majesty."

Then, turning to Jade, he added with a respectful nod, "Please summon me if you feel any discomfort, Minister Jade."

Jade inclined his head slightly. 

"Sorry for troubling you at this hour."

"It's no trouble at all, Minister. I'll be just outside."

With a polite bow to the Queen, the physician withdrew, sliding the door shut behind him. Outside, Genie's attendants stood silently in the corridor, shadows cast across their lowered faces.

The infirmary felt impossibly still in their absence.

Only now, in that fragile quiet, did the tension in Genie's shoulders unravel. Tears welled up, unchecked and shimmering in the dim lamplight.

"Your Majesty…" Jade's voice was careful, his usual composure tempered with worry.

She quickly swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, shaking her head. 

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Really, I'm… fine."

But the tears betrayed her, slipping down her cheeks one after another.

Her voice cracked, barely audible. "I've caused you to be injured again… because of me…"

Jade gave her a soft, warm smile. 

"No… Your Majesty protected me tonight."

By his words, something in Genie's fragile composure finally gave way. The tears she'd been desperately holding back spilled over, falling freely down her cheeks.

Jade's heart twisted at the sight. More than anything, he wanted to reach out—to brush those tears away with his hand, to offer comfort not as a subject, not as a soldier, but simply as a man standing before a woman in pain.

But he didn't move.

He couldn't bring himself to touch the Queen's face. He could only sit there, wounded and still, watching her cry in helpless silence.

Through trembling breaths, Genie finally managed, "Who… who were those men?"