Jade straightened, quickly composing himself.
"I wasn't laughing."
"You definitely were," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"N-No, really," he replied, stiffly averting his eyes and fixing them straight ahead, as if the cobblestones held the secrets of the world. "You must be imagining things."
Genie watched his awkward posture for a beat longer, then let out a quiet laugh of her own.
"Well," she said with a smirk, "I guess laughing isn't so bad."
She skipped ahead a few steps, her mood noticeably lighter as her boots tapped against the stones. The street, lined with shuttered shops and moss-grown signs, had never looked so harmless—though both of them knew better.
Still, seeing her smile again, even for a moment, tugged gently at something in Jade's chest. He smiled without meaning to, then quickly tried to hide it.
In a mock-serious voice, he said, "How could I dare laugh at Your Majesty's words?"
Genie's eyes widened. Her head snapped around.
"Jade!"
Startled by the sudden shift, Jade realized what he'd done.
He looked around quickly—no movement, no shadows shifting in the corners, but still, the name carried weight. Too much weight, in a place like this.
"Forgive me," he said, lowering his voice.
Luckily, no one was nearby. The narrow street remained quiet, shadows unmoving, the only sound the soft lapping of the sea in the distance.
Genie let out a quiet breath and shook her head.
"No need to apologize," she said gently.
Then she looked up at him, her expression softening. The moonlight caught in her eyes, turning them into pools of quiet amusement.
"Why not take this chance to call me by my name instead?"
Jade froze. His breath caught audibly, as if she'd asked him to leap off a cliff.
"H–How could I…" he stammered, eyes widening as the color rose swiftly to his ears.
Genie burst into laughter, the sound echoing lightly down the quiet street. It wasn't mocking—it was warm, delighted, almost teasing.
Jade blinked at her, flustered and unsure whether to feel mortified or simply bewitched.
Before either of them could say more, the old wooden gate of the inn creaked into view, its hinges whining slightly in the wind. Genie's laughter trailed off as her thoughts shifted.
'Oh right… there's only one room at the inn. So tonight, I'll be sharing a room with Jade…?'
The realization hit her like a sudden gust of cold air. She stiffened, blinking once, then quickened her pace, brushing past the gate as if it might chase the thought away.
Inside, the inn was dim and quiet, warmed faintly by a dwindling hearth. They climbed the creaking stairs and stopped outside the modest room where they had left their belongings earlier that day.
Genie reached for the handle, forcing a casual tone. "Let's go in."
But before she could open the door, Jade, who had lingered behind her, cleared his throat.
"Um…"
She turned to find him staring off to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His hands were folded stiffly behind his back, and he looked like a soldier trying to report something embarrassing to a superior.
Genie raised an eyebrow, amused by his obvious discomfort.
"Yes?" she asked, trying not to smile.
Jade hesitated, then said with awkward resolve, "I'll sleep in the courtyard tonight."
There was a beat of silence.
"…What?"
Genie stared at him, her voice halfway between incredulity and exasperation.
"It's freezing out there! That's ridiculous!"
Jade shook his head, awkwardly stepping back from the doorway. His posture was stiff, his voice quiet but firm.
"It's fine," he said. "It's just one night. Please… rest comfortably inside."
Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and strode quickly toward the courtyard, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't want to risk looking at her again—not when his thoughts were already tangled, not when the simple idea of sharing a room had made his heart pound like a war drum.
Genie blinked, stunned for a moment.
'Was he really going to sleep outside? In this cold?'
The thought struck her as both absurd and oddly touching.
"Jade—" she called after him, then, without thinking, hurried after him into the night air.
By the time she caught up, he was already stepping up onto the old wooden platform in the center of the courtyard, brushing aside a dusting of frost as if preparing a makeshift bed.
Without hesitation, Genie reached out and grabbed his arm.
He froze.
Slowly, almost sheepishly, he turned his head. His eyes met hers—wide with embarrassment, brows furrowed as if he still wasn't sure what he was doing out there in the first place.
She stared up at him, incredulous. Her breath puffed in the air between them, caught by the moonlight.
"Sleeping outside in this cold?" she said, her tone sharp with disbelief. "Absolutely not."
Her hand was still on his arm, and though her grip was light, it was enough to hold him in place. Enough to make him feel like the ground beneath his feet was no longer solid.
Jade hesitated, caught between her concern and his own faltering sense of propriety. His lips parted to protest—but nothing came out.
"…What?" he murmured, more to himself than to her. His expression softened, conflicted. "I just thought… it would be better this way."
Genie's gaze didn't waver. There was no judgment in her eyes, just warmth, laced with the same quiet strength he had seen so many times before.
"You're being ridiculous," she said gently. "You're cold. You're tired. You're not proving anything by sleeping on a wooden board under the stars."
He looked away, then slowly—reluctantly—nodded.
"A-Alright…" he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
She released his arm with a sigh of relief, offering a small, triumphant smile as she turned back toward the inn.
The small, dimly lit room breathed a quiet warmth, the kind that settled into the bones after a day spent in winter's cold. In that gentle stillness, the two sat leaning against opposite walls—Genie on one side, Jade on the other—each wrapped in their own thoughts, the silence between them not yet comfortable enough to be companionable.
A faint tension fluttered in the air like dust caught in a sliver of lamplight. It wasn't hostility—more like an unspoken awareness of each other's presence, too close and yet too far.
Trying to break through it, Genie tilted her head and flashed a mischievous smile.
"Is it because you're too picky that you can't share a room with others?"
Jade let out a small chuckle, subtle but genuine, his eyes softening at her tone.
"No, not at all. It's just that…" He trailed off, the words catching at the back of his throat.
'How could I possibly say "because you're the Queen"?'
How could he confess the storm that stirred in his chest just sitting across from her—the same girl he once met as a precocious young princess, now matured into a queen with eyes that had seen too much, and a voice that still somehow held laughter like spring?
Genie, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the creeping awkwardness. Without a word, she suddenly stretched out on the warm wooden floor, her arms falling to her sides in dramatic surrender.
"I'm too tired. I'll go to sleep now."
Her voice was muffled slightly by the floorboards, and though her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, Jade could tell she wasn't truly asleep. She simply wanted to escape the moment, the way she always did—swiftly, without explanation.
From across the room, Jade shifted slightly, the warmth of the room beginning to lull his limbs into restfulness. But his gaze lingered on her—on the familiar curve of her brow, on the soft flush across her cheeks, still pink from the biting wind outside. Her lips, faintly parted in rest, carried the delicate hue of rose petals newly touched by snow.
Beautiful.
There was no denying it. In stillness, in motion, in command, in retreat—she was beautiful. And yet it wasn't just beauty that held his attention. It was a memory. It was time.
As she lay there, unaware of his gaze, Jade felt the years fold back on themselves. The girl in front of him blurred with the image of a younger Genie, back when she was just the curious, sharp-tongued Princess who had startled him with her fearlessness and questions that dared the truth. He remembered the day they first met in the capital's garden—she had asked him, a young scribe at the time, why the sky changed colors at dusk.
Even when they reunited in the deserts of Arabia, he hadn't imagined this—hadn't foreseen her rising to sit on the throne.
Now, here she was, asleep on the floor of a modest village home, no golden robes, no attendants, no crown—just Genie. His queen, though she would never ask to be treated like one in moments like these.
He watched her a while longer, the silence deepening into something gentler. Then he bowed his head, his thoughts folding into a quiet prayer—one without words, only feeling.
When the prayer ended, the weight of sleep crept upon him too. Still sitting against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, Jade let his eyes fall shut.
And in the hush of the night, the warmth of the room held them both—two souls who had come so far, yet still had far to go.