At dusk, the river surface burned a slow, molten orange. From the factory chimney across the water, a thin white plume rose and dissolved into the breeze. Misaki watched it idly. The iron railing held the last warmth of the sun, passing it gently into her palms. The river had a smell — salt and mud and something faintly sweet, a scent that belonged to this city alone. Three years since she'd come here. She exhaled slowly. The breath vanished into the amber air. --- In the small garden at the back of the inner quarters, the pale light of an autumn morning fell thinly across the stones. It was a simple garden, made only of arranged rocks. A moss-covered stone with sharp edges. Branches of lespedeza beginning to wither. A stone water basin filled with water. Everything was maintained, yet there was no sense of anyone tending it with affection. It simply existed. It simply was. Kirijima Riko sat in the corner of that garden, hugging her knees. Ten days had passed since her transmigration. (Four days left.) She could not stop the tears from falling. No sound came. Her throat felt blocked, as if her voice could not emerge. Only water fell from her eyes, staining the sleeves of her kimono. Since she had begun sharing meals with Souma, something felt as though it had changed. That moment when the corner of his mouth lifted. Those four characters: "Make it again." The voice saying "I'm sorry" that she'd heard through the wall. Something had certainly kindled in Riko's chest. But. What had actually changed? She had not been formally recognized as a concubine. Souma had never once called her by name. She was merely permitted to have her meal tray placed in the same room as his. That was all. Just that. (I'll be cast out like this.) That reality grew heavier with each morning. Back in the modern era, when she felt down, she would call a friend. She would open her smartphone. She would go to a convenience store and buy something she liked to eat. But now, there was no one in the hallway who would call out to her, no one she could consult. Among the five women in the inner quarters, not a single one turned their gaze toward Riko. It was complete isolation. Even when she wiped the tears with her sleeve, they fell again immediately. They would not stop. She knew it was pathetic, yet they would not stop. "[cold] There is no time for weeping." A voice came. From above. Riko lifted her face. On top of the fence, there was a black silhouette. Black garments. Short in stature. Yet standing quietly atop the fence as if it had always been there. Bangs caught in the wind. Eyes of different colors in each socket, looking down at Riko from above. The left was gold; the right was silver. A small scar marked the corner of the mouth. (A ninja—someone from the Kage-no-Shu.) From Riko's knowledge, the Kage-no-Shu was the group of ninja who served the castle. Those who moved at Souma's command. "[serious] Who are you...?" "[cold] Mizuchi. I serve as a mobile unit for the Kage-no-Shu." From atop the fence, Mizuchi descended into the garden without a sound. There was no noise of landing. Mizuchi knelt before Riko, bringing their eyes to the same level. The distance between them was about one ken. Close. Yet strangely, Riko felt no fear. "[serious] You are being targeted." "[surprised] Targeted...?" "[cold] The Orochi-shu—an assassination group formed by the remnants of the former Tagane domain. They now aim for Souma's life. As a means to that end, they intend to use you." The Orochi-shu. That was the name the soldiers had whispered about on that night. Her body remembered it. This was the name of danger. "[scared] Use me...?" "[serious] Two choices. Either take you as a hostage to draw out Souma, or give you poison to bring close to him. As a concubine who carries Souma's meal trays, you are a perfect tool." Riko's hands trembled against her kimono. Carrying trays. Tampering with Souma's food. That act could become the very means of killing him. Riko herself could be used as a tool without ever knowing it. A chill ran through her. Not the cold of an autumn morning, but a coldness that came from within. Mizuchi took Riko's hand. It was cold. The fingertips were distinctly chilled. Yet the grip was certain and firm. "[gentle] I will protect you." The mismatched eyes met Riko's gaze. The gold and silver pupils were serious. There was something different from the coldness of duty—something else entirely. Something stirred deep in Riko's chest. A quiet but certain quickening, separate from her feelings for Souma. A confusion mixed with relief, an emotion that could not be explained. (Why does this person...?) Mizuchi had already released her hand and stood. The presence faded. Before crossing the fence, Mizuchi turned back and spoke briefly. "[cold] Be careful. There are those within the castle who would see you as an obstacle." Then, gone. Only the autumn wind remained in the garden. Riko stared for a long time at the fence where Mizuchi had vanished. The cold sensation still lingered in her palm. —There are those within the castle who would see you as an obstacle. Those words caught in her mind. --- In the afternoon, as Riko sat hugging her knees in the hallway, footsteps approached. It was Toki. The same grayish-white hair as always. Gentle green eyes. But today, she walked toward Riko of her own accord. Usually, it was Riko who spoke first, but today it was reversed. Toki sat quietly beside Riko. For a while, both remained silent. In the distance down the hallway, there was the faint sound of a maidservant moving. Too far away to hear clearly. "[gentle] Are you well?" Toki spoke. "[serious] Ten days have passed since you came to the castle. You have survived without breaking the rules of the inner quarters even once. ...That is not an easy thing." Riko said nothing. She only listened. "[serious] Do you remember the previous concubine?" "[serious] ...I heard she was disliked by Souma and cast out." Toki shook her head. Slowly. Clearly. "[serious] That is not true." A single phrase. Its weight fell into the hallway. "[serious] She was not disliked. She was driven out. The head maidservant of the inner quarters—a woman named Sawa—moved the other attendants to frame her. She made it appear as though there was a problem with the food, arranged it so that Souma's mood would be spoiled. The previous concubine left the castle in fourteen days, knowing nothing." Something connected within Riko. She had been focused on reading Souma. Trying to understand his actions. But perhaps what she truly needed to see was at her feet. (The true enemy is within the castle.) Mizuchi's words and Toki's story overlapped. "[serious] Why are you telling me this?" Toki paused for a moment. "[gentle] ...Because you have survived ten days. That is all." She stood and walked away. She did not look back. Riko remained sitting in the hallway for a long time, watching the direction Toki had gone. --- It was while finishing the meal preparations in the evening. Toki picked up the soup bowl and checked its contents. Her hand stopped. "[serious] ...Riko." She had called her by name. It was the first time. This was the first time Toki had called her by name. As Riko approached, Toki tilted the bowl. Fine gravel had settled at the bottom. Not pebbles. Fine particles, almost like sand. Yet clearly, something mixed by human hands. If eaten, it would damage the teeth. If foreign matter were found in the castle lord's meal—the concubine responsible for the food would be held accountable. Not merely cast out, but possibly executed. Riko's hands trembled. She could not stand, leaving the tray where it was. (Who...who would do such a thing?) Without knowing who the culprit was, night fell. She did not know whom to trust. Someone living in the same inner quarters was trying to frame Riko. That fact pressed down upon her body with terrible weight. When she extinguished the lamp in her room, she felt a presence. Outside the window. "[cold] It was Sawa's doing." Mizuchi stood with a hand on the window frame. The black garments dissolved into the night's darkness. Only the gold and silver eyes held light. "[serious] The head maidservant of the inner quarters...?" "[cold] It was that woman who drove out the previous concubine. This time, it was your turn." Mizuchi entered the room from the window. There was no sound of footsteps. Only a presence drew near, stopping before Riko. "[gentle] ...Are you alright?" Riko could not answer. She was not alright. Her hands still would not stop trembling. Mizuchi's hand touched Riko's cheek softly. It was cold. But gentle. "[whispers] Do not worry. I am with you." There was an enveloping quietness. Different from her feelings for Souma—those were more intense, anxious, carrying a certain pain. But Mizuchi's touch was quiet, calm, warming a different place within her. Riko became afraid of her own emotions. (Why...while thinking of Souma, do I feel this way?) Mizuchi had already withdrawn his hand. Before stepping back outside the window, he turned and spoke briefly. "[cold] Souma may call for you tonight. It would be wise to prepare yourself." He vanished. Riko placed her hand against her cheek. The coldness still lingered. --- The maidservant came not long after the lamp was extinguished. "Souma is calling for you." A small hope was born in Riko's heart. Perhaps the matter of the gravel had reached Souma, and he knew of her innocence. Perhaps he had appreciated the evening meal. Thinking such things, she walked the hallway. Souma's room was dark. Only one lamp was placed beside the writing desk. Souma stood before that light. His jet-black long hair fell down his back. The sword scar on his left cheek sank into shadow. His red eyes looked at Riko as she entered. They were cold. Like stone. The same eyes he had worn when silencing his retainers at the war council. "[cold] I knew about the gravel." Riko did not move. Souma continued. "[cold] You are a woman who brings trouble. I will cast you out after all. Leave the castle at dawn." There was no emotion in his voice. He was not angry. He did not shout. He simply spoke as if stating a fact. Riko's voice would not come. (He knew.) Souma had known that gravel had been mixed in. He must have understood that it was Sawa who had arranged it, not Riko. Yet Souma did not rebuke Sawa. He said he would cast out Riko instead. Why. Riko could not find that answer. Even looking into Souma's red eyes, she could read nothing. Usually, she could see the truth in people's hearts. But now, she saw nothing. Her knees touched the floor. Somehow, she had already sunk down. She could not stand. There should have been four days left until the time limit. But Souma had said dawn. Everything was over. "[sad] ...Why?" Her voice emerged. So small that she herself was surprised. "[sad] I did not mix the gravel. Souma, you must understand that. So why—" Souma did not answer. He only looked at Riko. His red eyes seemed to waver. Just for a moment. But by the time Riko noticed it, they had already returned to their cold, stone-like state. "[cold] At dawn." That was all. Riko remained with her hands on the floor, unable to stand. On the same day Mizuchi had promised to protect her, Souma had cast her away. For ten days, she had fought desperately to survive. She had refined her cooking. She had kept the rules. She had watched Souma's profile and wept. She had wanted to be near him. All of it would end at dawn. Even in the hallway, her feet would not move properly. She walked with her hand against the wall. Back in the inner quarters' room, she sat before the lamp. The light flickered. Why had Souma known about the gravel yet not protected Riko? Why had he not rebuked Sawa? Why had he chosen to cast out Riko instead? She could no