The corridor leading from the main palace of Aoki Castle to the war council chamber smelled of cold stone. Saran wore a pale cherry-blossom-colored kosode befitting a concubine. The silk was gentle against her skin, the hem folded with meticulous care. Yet even that comfort barely registered now. Something deep within her chest pulsed with violent intensity. *A war council. A concubine participating...* In the two days since her transmigration, the common sense she'd learned made it clear: concubines belonged sequestered in the inner quarters. To involve oneself in politics or military matters was an act that transcended one's station. And yet, Aoki had commanded it. Led by a soldier, she stood before a wooden door. She drew a deep breath. How would her previous world's knowledge and modern thinking function here? This would be the testing ground. The door opened. The war council chamber was roughly twenty tatami mats in size. Maps of Aoki's territory and surrounding powers covered the walls. To the north, the Hyouuga Mountain Range; to the east, the lands of the Kakushaku forces; to the south, the basin of the Suzaku River spreading wide. The carefully color-coded territorial map told a single story at a glance: Aoki's domain was surrounded on all sides. Five samurai were already seated. All of them bore the faces of middle-aged or elderly men. The moment Saran entered, their gazes converged upon her. Shock bloomed across every face. "A concubine... in the war council?" A whispered murmur escaped. Another furrowed his brow. The air in the room grew subtly tense. Aoki rose to his feet. His cold, deep purple eyes fixed upon Saran. "Sit there." He indicated a seat directly across from one of the military strategists. That strategist was—Kirishima Setsuna. Gray eyes swept across Saran with sharp precision. The white scar along his left temple caught the light, becoming visible. His expression carried an undercurrent of displeasure. No—something deeper than that. A face marked by wariness, by the sense of a threat perceived. Saran knelt formally in the designated seat. She straightened her spine, placed both hands upon her knees. She felt them tremble slightly, but she suppressed the tremor. "Saran, explain the tax system reforms." Those words heightened the room's tension further. Setsuna's expression visibly hardened. "My lord. Would you have a concubine discourse on military administration?" Setsuna's voice was low, measured with reason. Yet beneath it lay unmistakable opposition. The other senior retainers restrained themselves from nodding in agreement. "It matters not. Listen." A brief command. It carried the absolute authority of a lord, permitting no further debate. Saran took a deep breath. She would translate her previous world's knowledge into this era's language. She would avoid difficult terminology, keeping it simple, logical. "Currently, Aoki's domain operates under a six-to-four tax system. The lord collects sixty percent of the harvest, leaving farmers with only forty percent." "As it should be. What of it?" "However, this system contains a flaw." The words sent a ripple through the room. Distrust flickered across the retainers' faces. "The farmers have lost their motivation to produce. No matter how much effort they expend, sixty percent will always be taken. As a result, an increasing number cultivate hidden fields—plots that escape official tax surveys—and fail to report them in official records." Setsuna's expression grew colder still. "Farmers are lazy by nature. They should be taxed more severely. Lenient systems only diminish the lord's authority." His voice was cold, reflecting the conventional wisdom of the Sengoku period. Yet Saran did not flinch. "No. This is a matter of incentive." "Incentive?" The retainers tilted their heads. The word was unfamiliar. Saran explained. "That is to say, motivation. Creating a reason for farmers to think, 'I should produce more.' Under the current system, there is no profit in increased production, so there is no drive. Therefore, we must change the system." Setsuna leaned forward. "Specifically?" "Change it to four-to-six. The lord takes forty percent of the harvest, leaving farmers with sixty percent in their hands. The surplus, the castle will purchase at fair market price." In that moment, silence fell upon the chamber. Aoki's eyes widened slightly. For the first time, his face registered something—a reaction. Interest. Or perhaps astonishment. "But that would reduce the lord's income," "No. If farmers' production motivation increases, the cultivated area will expand. Hidden fields will be incorporated into official records. According to preliminary calculations, total yields should increase by thirty percent." Those figures were ones Saran had calculated in her mind while listening to villagers' stories. Knowledge from her previous life as a management consultant, applied to this world. Setsuna interlaced his fingers. "That logic is mere theory divorced from reality. There is no guarantee farmers will actually increase production." Saran's heart grew heavy. This was the crucial moment. "We need only implement it experimentally. In a single village along the middle Suzaku River, we test this new system and gather data. By comparing harvest records before and after, the results will be clear." "Data?" "Records of numbers. How things change before and after. With objective evidence, we can make practical judgments rather than relying on theory alone." Aoki gazed at Saran in silence. Something moved behind those eyes. Thought. Judgment. "Interesting." That single word transformed the room's atmosphere. "We shall implement it experimentally. In one village along the middle Suzaku River, we will trial the new tax system. Saran, you shall be responsible." Saran's breath caught. *I succeeded...?* She stared at Aoki in disbelief. The lord's expression remained cold. "My lord. That is dangerous. To entrust practical administration to a concubine—" "It matters not. Should it fail, the responsibility falls to Saran." With those words, Saran understood. This was not trust. It was a trial. Failure meant her position was forfeit. She would likely be sent back to the inner quarters, or at worst, cast out from the castle entirely. Her spine turned to ice. *Heavy. So very heavy.* Aoki rose and left the war council chamber. The senior retainers followed in succession. Only Setsuna remained, and as he passed beside Saran on his way out, he whispered in a low voice: "Fail, and your position is finished." The words were less a threat than a warning. A warning about the balance of power within Aoki Castle—about how the military strategist Setsuna's current position might be threatened by this woman. After Setsuna departed, Saran remained alone in the war council chamber. The maps still hung upon the walls. The middle Suzaku River basin. Which village to choose. Select the wrong one, and the trial itself would fail. *I don't know the villages. I have no data. Can I truly do this?* Yet there was no path of retreat. Now that Aoki had approved it, she could only move forward. Through the window, the castle town of Jade Town was visible. Rooftops arranged in orderly rows. Beyond them, the Suzaku River gleamed. *I'll do it. I'll change this world. That is my promise to this new life.* In Saran's eyes, as she made that vow, equal measures of resolve and fear took root.