After leaving the war council chamber, Saran stood motionless in the corridor for some time. The map pinned to the wall burned itself into her vision. A small village in the middle reaches of the Suzaku River. That tiny point would become the stage of her trial. Aoki had commanded her to take responsibility as the administrator of experimental reforms—and that fact was slowly, inexorably becoming real, tightening around her chest. (I have no choice. But...) "Lady Saran." A voice called from deeper in the corridor. She turned to find a single attendant bowing deeply. A woman in her early forties, her salt-and-pepper hair bound neatly, with a composed air about her. "I have been instructed to guide you to the inner palace," —Ah, that's right. Her mind had been so full of the war council that she'd forgotten entirely. Saran steadied her breathing quietly. "Yes, thank you," Led by the attendant, she made her way northwest through the corridors of the main palace. With each turn, the view from the windows shifted. The bustle of the second courtyard, where soldiers moved about, gradually faded into distance, and the quiet presence of an inner garden began to drift through the air. The inner palace was the quietest section of Aoki Castle. Positioned to the northwest of the main palace, five buildings were arranged to enclose a rectangular courtyard. A single plum tree had been planted in the center of the courtyard, its thin branches reaching quietly toward the twilight sky. It was not the season for blossoms, yet there was something refined and serene in its form. The sand at her feet had been carefully raked, leaving crisp patterns in its wake. And then. Four women stood in the center of the courtyard. Saran stopped in her tracks. All four were looking at her. As if they had been waiting here all along. The woman standing foremost stepped forward. A lustrous purple kosode. Black hair bound high, her white neck exposed in beautiful lines. Her features were refined, her narrow eyes possessed grace. A woman in her early thirties—Saran immediately recognized her as Kira, the chief concubine who had entered the castle eight years ago. "[cold]So you're the new concubine. Saran, was it?" Her voice was soft. But beneath that softness lay something sharp and cutting. She was smiling, but her eyes were not. "Yes. I am Saran. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," She bowed respectfully. When she raised her head, she felt Kira's gaze travel slowly from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. An appraisal. She was being weighed and measured. (Stay calm. Stay calm.) Behind Kira stood three others. Tsubaki, second in rank, was twenty-seven years old and wore a pale peach kosode. Her face was expressionless. She kept her gaze downcast, barely meeting Saran's eyes. It was not rejection so much as a desire not to engage from the start. Standing beside her was Rinka, twenty-four years old. She wore a reddish kosode with her arms lightly crossed. She looked at Saran with disinterested eyes, yet a thin smile played at the corners of her mouth. Whether she found this amusing or contemptible was impossible to say. And then—the last one bowed her head with a bright, cheerful expression. Kosuz, nineteen years old. Her yellow kosode was vivid, and her round eyes held an unguarded light. Among all the women in the inner palace, Saran felt that Kosuz was the only one truly "seeing" her. "[gentle]It's so nice to meet you!" Kira turned back and gave Kosuz a single glance. Kosuz shrank back slightly. Silence fell over the courtyard. The plum tree's branch swayed just a little in the breeze. "There is a hierarchy in the inner palace," Kira spoke. Her voice remained calm. "It is determined by the order in which we entered the castle. I am first. You are—last," "[serious]Yes, I understand," She bowed. This she had anticipated. It was only natural. There was no way she, who had arrived later, could outrank the chief concubine. Kira walked slowly around Saran. The sound of her shoes treading on the sand was rhythmic and measured. "Do you know what the true duty of a concubine is?" "...To be of service to the castle lord, I believe," "[sarcastic]Precisely. To be favored by the castle lord. That is your only duty," After a pause, Kira continued. "Appearing in a war council—isn't that a bit presumptuous?" Tsubaki and Rinka nodded silently. Only Kosuz looked at her with worry in her eyes. Something stirred within Saran. (I want to argue. But...) "I merely followed the castle lord's command," "[sarcastic]Followed his command?" Kira laughed slightly. It was an elegant laugh, but it held no warmth whatsoever. "Or did you volunteer yourself? For someone raised in a farming village, you're remarkably proactive," The words caught in her throat. She tried to form a rebuttal—and could not. It was true. She had proposed it herself. She had told Aoki that she wanted to help with economic reform. When called "presumptuous" for it, she had nothing to say in return. From the perspective of a concubine living in the Sengoku period, Kira's words sounded like pure logic. (How frustrating.) Kira withdrew her gaze, looking satisfied. "Your room is in the end building. It's the smallest, but—do bear with it," With only that, Kira turned on her heel. Tsubaki and Rinka followed in her wake. Only Kosuz lingered for a moment, gave Saran an apologetic look, then hurried after the other three. Left alone in the courtyard. The plum tree swayed once more, just slightly. --- The end building stood at the northern edge of the inner palace. A small room, barely six tatami mats. When she opened the window, the courtyard came into view. The plum tree appeared directly ahead. The other buildings were positioned further south, so the end building stood somewhat isolated. She set down her belongings. Though there was little to set down—she had brought almost nothing. Saran sat in the center of the room, her hands resting on her knees. Outside the window, no one walked the courtyard sand anymore. The other concubines had returned to their respective buildings. It was quiet. (What am I doing?) In the war council, Aoki had acknowledged her. Her proposal for tax reform had been accepted, and she had even been made responsible for its experimental implementation. That was certainly progress. But— The other concubines disliked her. Setsuna was wary of her. Aoki was cold. There was nowhere in the castle she could call her own place. The light of dusk streamed through the window. Orange light stretched across the tatami, slowly shifting its form. (Don't cry.) The back of her throat grew hot. The edges of her eyes began to sting. No. She couldn't cry. Crying wouldn't change anything. She could cry once she was no longer alone. She clenched her teeth. In her past life, as a management consultant, she had faced hardship many times. Rejected by clients, undermined by colleagues, yet she had accumulated data and produced results bit by bit. It was the same now. The only difference was that in this world, her life was at stake—but the work remained unchanged. "I have no choice but to do this." Her whispered voice was smaller than she expected. At that moment, the shoji door moved softly. Saran looked up. "[whispers]Lady Saran... are you all right?" Kosuz's face peeked through the gap in the shoji. Her round eyes looked at Saran with concern. Outside, dusk had deepened into near darkness, yet Kosuz's expression was clear. "...Kosuz," "May I come in?" Saran nodded, and Kosuz entered quietly. She sat beside Saran, maintaining a small distance between them. There was silence for a while. Kosuz said nothing, simply remained there. That silence—neither reproaching nor encouraging, merely present—seeped into Saran's chest in a way that was strangely comforting. "Lady Kira is frightening, but she's not a bad person," Kosuz spoke quietly. "She just wants to protect her position. For eight years, that's all she's thought about. When she heard you appeared in the war council, I think... she became afraid," "Afraid? Of me?" "[gentle]Yes. I think she felt threatened. Like the balance of power in the castle was shifting," Saran was quiet for a moment. (A threat...) Setsuna had felt the same way. The balance of power within the castle was changing—and it wasn't only Setsuna who feared it. Kira felt it too. Each of them, in their own place, was trying to preserve their own equilibrium. "I thought everyone hated me," Her voice trembled slightly. Kosuz shook her head. "[gentle]Not me. I support you, Lady Saran. I really think what you did—appearing in the war council—was amazing," "Amazing, or reckless?" "[laughing]That's what makes it amazing," Kosuz laughed. Saran felt her own lips curve upward in response. (Ah, I laughed. It's been so long.) The edges of her eyes were hot. But this time it was a different kind of heat. Not the heat of tears, but something warmer. "Thank you, Kosuz," "[gentle]Let's do our best together," Kosuz placed her small hand over Saran's. It was warm. Saran's eyes widened slightly, then she nodded quietly. Kosuz remained for a while longer, then said "good night" and left the room. The shoji closed softly behind her. Alone again. But a different kind of alone than before. Saran turned toward the window. The plum tree in the courtyard floated as a black silhouette in the darkness of night. Beyond it, a few stars were visible. She had an ally. Just one, but that was enough. She could start with one person. In her past life too, it had always begun that way. (I'll do this.) Saran's gaze returned to the interior of the room. Six tatami mats of small space. The end building, the lowest-ranked room in the inner palace. Yet tonight, this had become her place. Tomorrow, she would move from here. The village in the middle reaches of the Suzaku River—which village to choose. How to understand the current situation of the farmers. Who to ask for help gathering data. What preparations to make if Setsuna interfered. There was much to consider. Yet her mind felt more organized than before. Saran quietly laid out her bedding. Outside the window, the plum tree's branch swayed gently in the night wind.