Then she turned to Jade, and when she looked back to the physician, there was steel in her eyes.
"But we can't walk away. Not yet. Something is happening here—something none of us understand. And we won't abandon these people to it, whatever 'it' is."
The physician's eyes flickered—not just with unease, but with the weight of something he had long tried to forget. His hands, clasped before him, trembled ever so slightly.
"We won't leave," Genie said quietly but with iron resolve. "Not until we find out the truth."
There was no hesitation in her voice. No room for doubt. Jade felt it again—that familiar swell of awe and quiet reverence she always carried in Genie's presence. It wasn't just that she was a queen. It was the way she bore her duty like a blade in the dark, fearless and unyielding.
The old man looked at them as though he were staring at a fading dream. There was pity in his eyes—but it wasn't condescending. It was mournful. Tender. He watched them, his gaze moving slowly between their faces, the way one might look at flowers blooming just before the first frost.
"I've never seen anyone like you come to this village," he said at last, voice hoarse with emotion. "It's rare for anyone to visit, and those who have… the moment they learned even a fraction of this place's truth, they vanished. Fled in silence. As if some hidden instinct told them to run, without ever needing to say a word."
He paused, then took a shuddering breath.
"I don't know who you are… where you came from… but I know this: I won't see your kind again. Not in my lifetime. So let me tell you one last thing—my final warning, if nothing else…"
His voice dropped to a whisper, barely more than breath.
"Beware the school."
A silence fell between them like the hush before thunder.
"You must be careful of that place."
Beyond the ocean's edge, the sun bled warm hues across the sky—deep oranges and gentle pinks, smearing across the horizon like brushstrokes on cold glass. Yet the winter air clung to the beach with a cruel sharpness, biting at exposed skin and stirring the tide into restless waves.
Genie and Jade walked slowly along the narrow stretch of sand, the once-picturesque coastal village behind them, now wrapped in shadow and suspicion.
Jade followed a few steps behind, boots crunching against the frost-tinged shore. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. She could feel the storm of thought swirling inside Genie—the tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze never wavered from the waterline.
Eventually, Genie broke the silence.
"This doesn't make sense…"
Jade turned to her. The queen's profile was backlit by the remnants of the setting sun—beautiful, yes, but drawn and troubled. Her eyes remained fixed on the surf as she spoke again, the tide rolling and retreating like the village's buried secrets.
"We came here to stop the school's tyranny… to free this place from its grip. That was supposed to be the mission."
A long pause.
"…But the more we learn, the more it feels like the school is just a symptom. Not the disease."
Jade cast a glance behind them—at the village, at the faint outline of the bell tower barely visible above the trees. No one was nearby. Still, she lowered her voice.
"Your Majesty," she said carefully, "I think it would be best to leave this village for now. Regroup. Bring others. This place… it's hiding something. Something older than the school. Older than any of us."
Genie turned to him, her eyes searching his face—quiet but burning with questions she didn't yet speak aloud.
Jade met her gaze, composed but earnest. There was no hesitation in his voice, only calm conviction as he continued.
"We still don't know what forces might be moving in the shadows of this village. Acting now, without understanding, could put us all in greater danger. I apologize… but I believe it would be best if we returned to the palace for now—"
"No." Her voice cracked through the air, sharp as flint.
Genie came to a sudden halt on the frost-laced path, her cloak rustling against the wind.
Jade stopped immediately behind her, his brow tightening.
"Your Majesty, I must insist—"
"I cannot just return," she said, and this time her voice was quiet—but unshakable. A current of steel ran through it.
She turned fully to face him. The last slivers of daylight played across her face, casting long shadows across her features. Her eyes, though composed, burned with fury—and beneath it, something more fragile. Grief. Fear. Resolve.
"You saw it too, didn't you?" she said, her tone fierce but low, like a secret being spoken aloud for the first time. "That child… the one who collapsed in the middle of the street without warning. And the father who dragged the poor thing away as if it meant nothing. No panic. No tears. Just… silence."
She stepped closer, voice trembling slightly with the weight of memory.
"And the others… all of them. Wandering like ghosts through this village, as if life's been drained from their very souls. Lifeless eyes. Hollow smiles. What kind of place is this, Jade?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Jade said nothing for a long moment. He could feel it—her anger, her anguish, all of it wrapped in her sense of duty. But beneath it, there was another presence he hadn't expected: fear. Not for herself, but for the villagers. For what might already be too late to save.
He inhaled quietly. Then lowered his gaze with a respectful nod.
"…Understood, Your Majesty," he said, his voice steadier now, aligned with hers. "If this is your will, I will follow it."
But he raised his eyes again, and this time there was determination behind them—gentle, but firm.
"However… I will go to the school alone tomorrow, as we originally planned."
A wind swept in off the ocean, lifting strands of Genie's hair. She shook her head slowly.
"No," she said.
Jade blinked, his brows drawing together in concern.
"I will go myself."
Jade looked momentarily stunned by the firmness in her voice. It wasn't that he hadn't expected her resolve—he knew Genie well enough to know how unyielding she could be when something stirred her heart. But the weight of her tone, the absolute finality in her decision—it caught him off guard.
He opened his mouth to respond, then faltered. Her expression stopped him. It was calm, yet fierce. Determined, yet shadowed by something unspoken. There was no space left for protest, and no words that could match the depth of her conviction.
All he felt was concern.
A quiet, gnawing concern that tightened in his chest like a cord. For her safety. For the unknown that lay ahead. For what might happen if they walked too deep into the heart of something neither of them yet understood.
Genie noticed his silence—the way his shoulders tensed, the faint crease between his brows. Her breath caught, and for a brief second, a flicker of regret passed through her.
'Was I too forceful? I hadn't meant to push him away.'
Her expression softened. The edge in her voice faded, replaced with quiet warmth as she stepped closer.
"Please understand," she said gently, "I can't let you go alone either."
Jade blinked, surprised by the sudden tenderness in her words. Something shifted in him, subtle but unmistakable. The wall of formality—the one he kept up even with her, even after all their time together—gave way to something more human.
He hadn't realized.
Hadn't seen that her stubbornness came not just from duty or pride, but from concern—for him. A mirror to the very feeling that had stirred in his own chest when he tried to protect her.
That simple truth warmed him.
He lowered his gaze briefly, exhaling slowly, the tension in his body easing.
"How could I go against your will…" he murmured with a faint smile, his voice quieter now, touched with affection. Then he bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
Night had settled gently over the coastal village, draping the crooked rooftops and narrow streets in a soft, moonlit stillness. Lamps glowed dimly behind shuttered windows, their light barely reaching the fog-dusted cobblestones. The sea murmured quietly in the distance, like a lullaby humming through the bones of the town.
Genie and Jade walked side by side, their steps echoing faintly in the cool night air. A thin mist curled along the edges of the alleyways, but the warmth of dinner still lingered in their bellies, softening the chill that surrounded them.
Genie exhaled contentedly, her breath forming wisps of vapor. "Well," she said, shrugging beneath her cloak, "at least the soup place we just ate at didn't seem too strange."
There was a lightness in her tone, a playful flicker that hadn't been there earlier.
Jade turned toward her, surprised. Though he knew better than to relax in this village—where everything felt just a shade too quiet, too still—he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.
Genie narrowed her eyes and gave him a pointed look.
"What are you laughing at?" she asked, mock suspicion lacing her voice.