?? ?????'? ?????

The hall trembled—not from rage this time, but from the hush that followed a voice forged in grace and steel.

"Enough," came the voice. And when the crowd turned, there stood the Queen Mother—Kim Jiwoo—her spine unbent by time, her eyes sharp as winter stars, her voice soaked in the love of a mother and the fury of a lioness.

"No one is leaving anything behind," she declared, stepping forth, her gown trailing like a river of midnight silk. "Has any king before him dared to walk into the heart of ruin and return with hope clasped in hand?"

The court fell silent.

"Elara was lost. Forgotten. Left to rot beneath the weight of our own cowardice. But he—my son—he rode into the storm not with armies, but with belief. With the strength of one man who refused to bow to fear."

Her voice rose, a song and a blade.

"Tell me—who among you has ever laid down their pride to lift a stranger? Who has bled for the land not for glory, but for love? Who has held his people closer than he held his own crown?"

She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping over the silent crowd.

"He has done more for this kingdom than any man who ever sat that throne. He has fought for peace, for justice, for unity. He gave his days, his nights, his very breath to this land."

Then she paused. A breath. A hush. The silence was thick with truth.

"So why, when it comes to love, do your hearts grow so small?"

The words settled like petals on still water. A pause, and then—

"If a man gives you his soul, why must he be punished for giving his heart?"

The Queen Mother looked toward her son, and her voice softened, like wind brushing through temple bells.

"If he does so much for you all, then why does who he loves matter so much?"

For a moment, no one moved.

Then from somewhere deep in the crowd, a voice rang out, cracked with emotion:

"Hail King Kim Taehyung!"

And then another.

"Hail our king!"

The cry grew louder, swelling like an ocean tide.

"Hail King Kim Taehyung! Hail the lionheart!"

Taehyung, standing at the foot of the throne, blinked slowly—his lips parted, his eyes glossy with tears that had no shame in them. He looked around, his shoulders trembling. He had never bowed, never bent—but in that moment, the weight he'd carried alone felt just a little lighter.

Then—

"Hail his lover, Jeon Jungkook!"

Jungkook's head snapped up, breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened as the crowd repeated the name, louder, warmer—without venom, without scorn.

"Hail the knight of fire and devotion!"

"Hail Jeon Jungkook!"

Taehyung turned to him, a slow smile blooming across his face. A smile so full of pride, of peace, of love unhidden. He reached for Jungkook's hand, threading their fingers together as if the world had never tried to pull them apart.

And in the light of stained-glass sun, the king stood tall beside his beloved—finally seen, finally accepted.

As love, at last, echoed louder than fear.