The arrow Lee-Jae had loosed struck the center of the target.
But she didn’t stop. She nocked another arrow to the string.
Why?
Though her face remained calm, there was something urgent in her expression as she bit down on her lip.
The second arrow also pierced straight through the bullseye.
Seeing that, the King—his face tense—sighed and turned toward the knights.
“From now on, if any of you shoot worse than the Queen, you’re all dismissed.”
The knights, who had been watching with jaws dropped in awe, panicked.
Because what he’d just said meant that if they couldn’t hit the center, they’d all be fired.
Jade, the Commander of the knights, had no choice but to speak up for his men.
“Your Majesty, we’re knights, not archers.”
He had a point.
True, some knights were even better with the bow than specialized archers.
But they had earned their places through swordsmanship and martial skill, not archery.
The other knights nodded vigorously at Jade’s defense.
But the King, for some reason irritated, snapped back.
“When did I say you were archers? But even after seeing that, you want to make excuses?”
“…”
“Can’t you see how hard she’s trying right now?”
“…”
“You’re not archers. But neither is she—and she’s not a knight either.”
And yet, that girl made no excuses.
When she felt lacking, she just bit her lip like that.
Roderick shot a cold glare at the knights, then turned his gaze back to Lee-Jae.
She had been about to fire a third arrow but quietly released the bowstring.
Three shots seemed enough for a trial round, after all.
As she sat down on the ground, the King quickly came over to her.
“All done?”
“Not yet.”
“Still, my little bean didn’t fly off with the arrow.”
“I’m a bean with a low center of gravity, you know.”
Roderick gently brushed her short bangs to the side.
“Turns out my little bean’s a sharpshooter. If you’ve got any other hidden talents, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”
Lee-Jae chuckled quietly.
“This hardly makes me a sharpshooter. I just practiced a lot back in the day. And the target’s absurdly close.”
At her modest response, the King once again gave the knights a cold glare.
Then he took her soft hand and fiddled with it. The skin was red from pulling the bowstring, and he found it pitiful.
He took the arrow she was holding, flicked it into the quiver with a thunk, and said,
“Put down the sharp stuff and take a break.”
“It’s not that dangerous.”
“Not for you—for my mental health. It’s murder to the heart.”
Looking around, he picked up a nearby stick and handed it to her instead of an arrow.
Lee-Jae laughed and began doodling in the dirt with the stick.
But she stopped soon after, her expression growing serious as she sank deep into thought.
“Your Majesty.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“That arrow from a few days ago… Where do you think it came from? Was it really the Daemon Restoration Army’s base?”
Tilting her head, Lee-Jae looked up at the King.
He didn’t know why she was bringing this up now of all times, but it was an important question for him too—one that needed answering.
“That’s the most likely, isn’t it?”
It was a reasonable deduction.
Hailey, the Prophet.
The strange incidents surrounding the King and the Western Army.
The Royal power slowly awakening.
And the Daemon Restoration Army, lurking near the western borders, growing ever bolder.
If the House of Ilias hadn’t been annihilated, the theory would be even more convincing.
Still, for Roderick and Lee-Jae, too many questions remained unsolved.
The King silently recalled the final edict of his predecessors—
“Never trust Duncan.”
“And what does our wise Queen think of Duncan?”
“Is Your Majesty still concerned about him?”
“I’m still suspicious. Didn’t you say he seemed to know the palace’s inner workings too well? It’s hard to believe Daemon could know this much about what’s going on here.”
The King also found it suspicious that the Duke kept trying to send Albert Duncan to the western border.
Lee-Jae, who had been quietly listening, gave a small nod.
“I think we should look into it.”
“…How?”
Instead of answering, Lee-Jae simply smiled and began rummaging through the things she had brought with her.
The bow was a sacred weapon used not only for exorcising malevolent spirits, but also for divination.
Of course, prophetic divination wasn’t exactly her forte.
Though she had solid theoretical knowledge, divination didn’t rely on theory.
The ability to read the flow came from the shaman themselves—or from the spiritual insight of the deity they served.
Lee-Jae was neither possessed by a god nor a shaman of particularly strong intuition.
But that didn’t mean she could afford to do nothing.
She opened the lid of a metal container she’d brought.
A sharp, metallic smell instantly filled the air.
Roderick, who had just been thinking “Huh, so she knows how to shoot a bow too”, raised an eyebrow.
Because what she pulled out was animal blood.
“Your Majesty, please don’t interrupt me from here on.”
“What are you trying to do now? Lee-Jae, at least tell me before you do something, okay?”
I’m going to try something.
And no, it’s not a spell to make me even smaller. So please give up on that dream of carrying me around in your pocket, Your Majesty.
But I think I can manage this much.
“It’s really nothing special. Just give me a little time.”
She dipped the end of the stick the King had given her into the animal blood and began drawing an intricate sigil on a sheet of white paper.
Ideally, her own blood would’ve been best—but with the King nearby, she couldn’t go that far.
Even when she’d just asked for animal blood, the usually bold Deborah had visibly faltered.
Lee-Jae gave the King—still watching her with concern—a couple small nods, as if to say Don’t worry. I’m fine.
The King still didn’t look reassured, but he said nothing.
At least this time, there was no ominous aura in the air.
Then she replaced the target and returned to her position—everyone held their breath.
It wasn’t just the strange pattern drawn on the target.
They could feel it—the sudden shift in her aura.
Her gaze was sharp, intense, and cold.
Lee-Jae nocked an arrow and bit her lip again.
She lacked the power. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t read large, sweeping flows.
So her question had to be precise and clear.
The arrow came from the western border. From the Daemon Restoration Army’s camp. That’s where I’ll place my question.
This time, she poured every ounce of her energy into the drawn bow and the arrow’s tip.
A groping in the dark. Humanity stumbles blindly, searching only for answers.
Oh, one who sees all—grant even us a sliver of certainty, we who live and doubt.
Lee-Jae fired several arrows into the sigil.
Her speed was unhesitating, and the arrows struck exactly where she had intended.
But suddenly, her breath caught in her throat.
It was the price of peering into an uncertain realm with insufficient ability.
Roderick was not just a man.
Anything that happened around him, even if small, could affect the fate of an entire nation.
Still, Lee-Jae believed this much was within her power.
And she couldn’t back down after already setting it in motion.
She narrowed her eyes and stared intently at the sigil.
Then something began to rise within her vision.
The sigil drawn on the paper began to glow.
If this was the answer she’d sought, then the light should now spread outward in all directions.
But before long, Lee-Jae had no choice but to doubt her eyes.
Because the light was flickering—
and growing weaker.
“…W-What? What’s happening? Why is it doing that?”
The flickering light soon vanished completely.
She kept glancing away, then looking back at the target, over and over.
Eventually, she rubbed her eyes with a clenched fist.
Was that a yes, or a no?
Why show me something and then stop halfway?
The people watching couldn’t understand why the Queen was reacting like this.
The arrows had hit the target—maybe not dead center, but they were all within the mark.
And yet, the Queen’s face was twisted in dissatisfaction, as if she couldn’t accept the result.
Her expression, more than anything, made the knights feel small.
How perfect must she be before she’s satisfied with herself?
“Lee-Jae… Are you okay?”
“……”
“Please, say something.”
Worried, the King spoke gently when he saw the troubled look on her face.
But she simply shook her head and raised a finger to her lips.
Performing a ritual twice in one day wasn’t easy, but this wasn’t the answer she had wanted.
She needed something stronger—clearer.
In the end, Lee-Jae, face stiff with resolve, pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and spread it across the floor.
Then, once again, she began to draw a sigil with the animal blood.
She had been gathering her energy this whole time.
This time, she handed the paper to a nearby knight—she didn’t want to disrupt her concentration now by doing more than she had to.
The knight took the paper, visibly confused.
Deborah, watching this unfold, gave the knight a look of utter exasperation.
A clear expression of contempt.
“Seriously, how can you not understand what Her Majesty is asking?”
Deborah, whose spiritual sensitivity was far stronger than most knights, snatched the paper from the poor man.
What a frustrating human. Can’t you tell? The Queen is asking someone else to set the target up in her place.
Honestly, working in the palace with clueless people like you is just embarrassing.
With icy determination in her steps, Deborah walked toward the wall.
Then, with exaggerated poise, she replaced the target.
Lee-Jae gave her a grateful nod, and Deborah responded with a rare gentle smile—just for her.
But Lee-Jae wasn’t in a place to smile back.
Her expression was resolute as she notched another arrow onto her bow.
She poured the last of her energy into this shot.
Then tell me this—was it the Duke who loosed the arrow?
Oh divine spirit, when humans seek answers, grant us a voice—just once. We do not beg lightly.
Lee-Jae fired again, one arrow after another.
She stared hard at the new sigil, searching for any kind of reaction.
But this time, nothing happened.
No glow. No shimmer. No movement.
The knights, now completely lost, exchanged uneasy glances.
The arrows had hit almost exactly the same places as before—but the Queen looked deeply disappointed.
She lowered her bow toward the ground. Though she had a faint smile on her lips, she looked utterly drained.
With unsteady steps, Lee-Jae walked toward the target to inspect it more closely.
Does this mean both are wrong?
Or is it saying the answer is beyond my reach? What am I missing?
She tore the target from the wall and looked at it, frowning.
I shouldn’t have doubted the Fifth King. The real fraud is standing right here—me.
Grandma, I’m sorry. Once again, I’ve stained your name—once the top of the craft—with my mediocrity.
Dejected, she picked up the paper and began to head back to her spot.
But suddenly, she froze—and had to stumble back a few steps.
She’d poured too much energy into the ritual.
Her head spun violently, like the world had flipped sideways.
“Lee-Jae!”
Roderick, alarmed, was the first to rush over.
But before he could reach her, the staggering Queen fell with a loud thud—landing hard on the ground.
