Kazakiri told him that he could return to the castle sometime after dawn. Souma's response was brief. "Bring her back to the castle"—that was all. Riko still remembered the sensation in her hand. Half a day had passed since that night when she finally learned the reason Souma had spoken those cold words. As she left Tsukikage, Mizuchi stood outside the back shed, his treatment finished. Bandages wrapped around his right shoulder and across his back, his face twisting slightly with each movement. But he said nothing. When Riko met his eyes, he simply nodded quietly. On the path to the castle, walking alongside the messenger of the Shadow Corps, a bird took flight from among the cedar trees. The autumn sky stretched high and blue above them. --- When she returned to the castle, Toki was waiting in the inner corridor. Silver-white hair tinged with gray, gentle green eyes—her face was unchanged from always, but the moment she recognized Riko's figure, something flickered in those eyes. "[gentle]Welcome back," "[serious]Toki-san, there's something I need you to hear," "[gentle]I already know. Souma-sama has already told me. But I too have something to show you," Toki led Riko to a room deeper in the castle. It was the room Sawa had used. "[serious]Sawa kept stepping on this floor over and over. I was concerned, but... I couldn't bring myself to investigate alone," There was an unusual hesitation in Toki's voice. An elderly maidservant who had served this castle for decades—and yet she could not move forward alone. Riko felt the weight of that. The two of them began to examine the floor. While Toki checked along the walls, Riko knelt from the center of the room toward the edges, pressing each board one by one. She confirmed the sensation transmitted through her fingertips, slowly and carefully. The cold of the cedar planks lingered in her palms. The third board, the fourth— On the fifth board, the sensation changed. It was slightly raised. The nails were not fixed firmly. "[serious]...Here," Riko exchanged a glance with Toki, then hooked her fingers under the edge of the board. As she lifted it slowly, the smell of dry wood rose up. Something wrapped in cloth lay in the darkness below. She reached down and pulled it out. When she unwrapped the cloth, several gold coins gleamed with a dull light. And then—a single folded piece of paper. Toki brought the candle closer. Riko unfolded the paper. Characters were written across it. As she read, her hands began to tremble. Instructions to mix gravel into Souma's meals. The steps for maneuvering the previous concubine out of the inner quarters. And—the specified timing for drawing Riko outside the castle. Even the date was written. Everything was detailed, calm, methodically instructed. (This was the plan from the beginning.) "[serious]...It's all written here," Toki leaned in to look at the paper in Riko's hands and fell silent for a long time. A long silence. "[gentle]...So it's all come together," That was all. But those two words contained everything. Riko looked up. Toki was bowing her head quietly. The elderly maidservant, bowing to a young concubine. Without words, simply bowing. Riko could say nothing. She only stood, clutching the evidence to her chest. --- The great hall was filled with people. In a space of roughly sixty tatami mats in the Ninomaru, retainers stood in rows. Some carried spears, some wore armor, old generals in hakama—all eyes were directed toward the center. Sawa sat on the tatami, her flanks secured by members of the Shadow Corps. She was a woman past forty. Narrow eyes, thin lips. The woman who had smiled from the edge of the corridor the morning Riko left the castle. Now her expression had frozen, and the corners of her lips trembled faintly. Souma sat in the place of honor. His jet-black long hair was tied back, and Higanemaru—the great sword passed down through generations of the Shinozuka clan—hung at his waist. The sword scar on his left cheek was clearly visible in the candlelight. His red eyes, which spoke of the battlefield, stared straight ahead. Riko paused at the entrance to the great hall and steadied her breathing. The moment Sawa spotted Riko's figure, something flashed in her eyes. Whether it was anger or desperation, to Riko it looked like both. "[sarcastic]...How bold of a mere concubine to show her face here," Her voice was clear. She was trying to shake Riko using the gazes of those around her. It was the final resistance of a woman who had survived in this castle for years. Several of the retainers glanced at Riko after Sawa's words. Their eyes were appraising, as if judging what would happen next. Riko did not waver. She stepped forward. Walking across the tatami, she knelt before Souma. She withdrew the gold coins and the secret letter from her sleeve and placed them quietly before him. Then she looked up and turned her gaze to Sawa. "[serious]You mixed gravel into Souma-sama's meals. You spread false rumors to drive the previous concubine from the inner quarters. And—you accepted gold from the Orochi Corps and arranged the timing to draw me outside the castle," Her voice did not shake. "[serious]It's all written in this letter. The evidence," Sawa's face drained of color before their eyes. Her lips moved. No words came out. They moved again. Still no sound. The retainers around them stirred with a rustling sound. One of the old generals murmured low, "The Orochi Corps..." Sawa finally collapsed onto the tatami. She fell to her knees, both hands pressing down. "[crying]...Forgive me. Please forgive me, Souma-sama—" The great hall fell silent. Souma stood up. Slowly. Without sound. But the air in that space changed—everyone felt it. His right hand moved to the hilt of Higanemaru at his waist. "[cold]There is no mercy for traitors," His voice was quiet. Precisely because it held no emotion, it was terrifying. None of the retainers opened their mouths. For three years, no one had seen this man sheathe his blade. Even enemy generals who offered surrender had not survived before Souma. Everyone knew this. Riko stood up. She placed her hand over Souma's right hand. The air in the great hall stopped for an instant. Souma looked at Riko. His red eyes were close. There was a complex light in their depths—neither pure anger nor pure surprise. "[serious]You don't have to kill her," Riko looked straight up at Souma. "[serious]Banishment is enough. She has nothing left," Silence continued. Souma stared at Riko without moving. Three breaths. Five breaths. None of the retainers moved. None had the courage to speak. Slowly—Souma's right hand released the hilt. "[cold]...Sawa is banished from the castle. She is forbidden to ever approach it again," The retainers exhaled faintly, a sound barely audible. One old general bowed his head quietly. Then another, and another—all the retainers in the great hall lowered their heads in the same way. Everyone witnessed the moment when Souma sheathed his blade at someone's words. Riko's hand still trembled slightly. --- At the same time, outside the castle. Mizuchi stood facing three shadows along the eastern wall of the castle. The night air was thick and cold. The wound beneath the bandages burned with heat each time he moved. Kazakiri's voice echoed in the back of his mind—"When this battle ends, you will face judgment for breaking the law." He had accepted this. The first one rushed forward. Mizuchi shifted his body slightly, evading the trajectory of the blade. He twisted his wrist, broke the attacker's balance, and slammed him to the ground. The sound echoed. The second came. The wound ached. But his legs still moved. The third fled. He vanished into the darkness beyond the castle. Mizuchi did not pursue. There was no need. As long as the safety around the castle was secured, that was enough. Alone in the night outside the castle walls, where no one could see, Mizuchi knelt on one knee. His right hand pressed against the ground. The edge of the bandage seeped slightly with blood. No one was here. --- In the deep of night, when everything had been settled, Riko walked through the castle corridors. The candlelight stretched thinly across the hallway. The chill of the autumn night crawled along the stone floor. The tension from the great hall had not yet fully left her body, and she took several deep breaths as she walked. "[cold]...You are a strange woman," A voice came from behind her. She turned. Souma stood at the corner of the corridor, holding a candle, looking at her. His face was unreadable, but something was different from usual. There was no anger in his eyes, no coldness. Souma turned on his heel without speaking and walked deeper into the corridor. Riko hesitated for only a moment before following. She was led to a room in the keep. It was a small room. Several candles were lit, and their orange light wavered. On a writing desk lay a piece of silk cloth. Souma entered the room, invited Riko inside, and then quietly closed the door. He then took the silk cloth in his hands and spread it before Riko. It was a painting. A young girl was depicted. The moment Riko saw the painting, words failed her. A carefully drawn face. Gentle eyes. There was something in the girl's features that overlapped with Souma's own. "[serious]...My sister," Souma spoke quietly. And then the next words took a long time to come. The candlelight wavered. "[serious]Three years ago, in the northern campaign. She was taken hostage by mountain bandits," Riko looked at Souma. Souma gazed at the painted girl. "[serious]She was killed right before my eyes," His voice did not change. It remained calm. And because of that, the weight of those words struck directly. "[serious]I cut down the enemy general who offered surrender—it was rage. But it was more than that. It was punishment for my own failure to protect her," Now, for the first time, Riko understood the full reason why he was called the Demon Souma. Light kindled in Souma's eyes. A tear. A single tear that gleamed. Souma did not wipe it away. Perhaps he did not know how. Tears also fell from Riko's eyes. No sound came. They simply fell. Souma quietly rolled the silk painting back up. Carefully, slowly. Then he took Riko's hand. It was a large hand. A hand that had swung a blade on the battlefield. But now it simply held Riko's hand. "[serious]...Stay here," A revocation of the banishment. Not as a concubine, but as something else entirely—for the first time, Souma was asking someone to be by his side. In Riko's chest, her feelings for Souma took on a clear, defined shape. Painfully, unmistakably clear. But at the same time, Mizuchi's face surfaced in her mind. His confession echoed. The body that had pressed against her wound to protect her. Both were real. Neither would fade. Riko squeezed Souma's hand in return. She squeezed it back without having found an answer. Her eyes turned toward the window. On top of the castle wall, a figure stood. A body wrapped in bandages. Silver hair swayed faintly in the night wind. Gold and silver heterochromatic eyes looked toward her. It was Mizuchi. Their eyes met. Mizuchi stopped moving for a moment. Then—a faint smile appeared on his lips. On his scarred mouth, just barely. The next instant, he vanished into the darkness. Riko could not move from that spot. Souma's hand still held hers. The wall above was now empty sky. The orange candlelight wavered between the two of them. The fourteenth night was beginning to pale into dawn. Riko had chosen, of her own will, to remain in Hibika Castle. Feeling the warmth of Souma's hand, she stood here still—holding Mizuchi's answer in her heart. There seemed to be something more to the truth about Souma's sister's death that had not yet been spoken. What was lost that night in the mountain bandit subjugation m