Three days had passed since life in Hanakage Tower began. 　Each morning Ayano woke, she was struck anew by the strangeness of this castle. The ladies-in-waiting rose early, filing from their rooms one after another. The sound of their footsteps hurrying toward their assigned duties. Words exchanged in the corridors—phrases she had never heard in the modern world. And above all else—the complete absence of any concept of hygiene. 　The view of the kitchen from her window shook Ayano's knowledge as a nurse. Well water was used without any filtration whatsoever. Meals sat at room temperature, a race against decay in the summer months. Wounds were treated by nothing more than wiping with cloth. Disinfection? Quarantine? No one in this era would know such words. 　For Ayano, who had spent three years working as a nurse in a general hospital in Tokyo, it was a nightmare made manifest. "At this rate, plague will spread." 　She whispered it in the corner of her room. A thought kept only within her mind. Her expression remained utterly blank, her posture impeccable. She could feel Chizuru's eyes constantly observing her. 　On the morning of the fourth day, Ayano made her decision. 　At the entrance of Hanakage Tower, she called out to Chizuru. The older woman was about to head to the main palace to report the morning's duties to the castle lord. "Chizuru. I would like to see the medicine storehouse." 　Chizuru's footsteps halted. Her lustrous black hair, bound elegantly, swayed slightly. Her gaze turned cold, fixing upon Ayano. The creases in her brow deepened. "What are you saying?" 　Her tone was polite, but the implication was unmistakable. A woman had no business meddling in matters of medicine. "I believe there are improvements that can be made regarding sanitation management within the castle." 　Ayano was direct. Speaking in the manner of the modern world. Not because she was ignorant of circumlocution, but because she had judged that time was not a luxury she possessed. "Such matters are the physician's responsibility. It is not a woman's place to interfere." 　Chizuru turned her face away. A gesture that said the conversation was finished. 　Ayano took a deep breath. Her next words would be far bolder. "Then I will petition the castle lord directly." 　Chizuru's body went rigid. Her back stiffened slightly. Her composed face slowly turned back toward Ayano. In her gaze, clear anger and astonishment mingled. "That is disrespectful." "I understand. But I believe preventing the spread of illness within the castle is less disrespectful than allowing it to occur." 　Chizuru's lips trembled faintly. Seconds of silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, she faced forward once more. "...I will take you before the castle lord. Speak for yourself." 　A victory. A small one, but a victory nonetheless. 　This was only the second time Ayano had set foot in the main palace. The first had been as a captive. This time, she entered as a guest concubine. That difference in status was subtly reflected in the gazes of the soldiers around her. 　Chizuru stepped forward before the castle lord and conveyed Ayano's request in a tone heavy with displeasure. But the lord, after only the briefest pause— "Very well. Show her the medicine storehouse." 　That simple permission. Chizuru's brows drew together in an inverted V, but she voiced no objection. The castle lord's command was absolute. 　 　The Third Enclosure. 　The building to which she was guided deep within the castle was a crude wooden structure. Weathered pillars, blackened roof tiles, a small window. It resembled nothing so much as a storage shed. But the moment Ayano opened the door, what lay within— 　Was remarkably orderly. 　Shelves were stacked along the walls in multiple tiers. Upon them sat countless bottles of dried medicinal herbs. Deeper within, she could see old medical instruments as well. Whetstones, needles, small blades. Cloth to serve as bandages. 　And—an old man stood at a workbench in the back. "What is your business?" 　His voice was unexpectedly low and calm. 　Genan turned. His hair, a light brown streaked with white, was gathered loosely at the back of his head. His forehead bore countless fine wrinkles, each one a testament to the weight of a long life. His eyes were a gentle amber. Yet within that gaze dwelt deep experience and something shadowed, something that carried weight. A small scar from an old blade marked his left ear. This was a man who had endured something in his youth. "I wish to improve the organization and sanitation management of the medicine storehouse." 　Genan's brow moved slightly. "What could a woman possibly know?" 　His tone was not as hostile as Chizuru's had been. Rather, it sounded like simple curiosity. "If wounds are not disinfected, infection occurs. If wounds are sutured, bleeding stops. If the sick are isolated, infection to others can be prevented." 　Genan fell silent. The old physician's eyes fixed upon Ayano, studying her. Evaluating her. Assessing her. After a long moment— "What is disinfection?" 　That question carried not hostility, but interest. 　Ayano looked around the medicine storehouse. Then she gathered several medicinal herbs in her hands. Her knowledge as a nurse would serve her here. "These are boiled down, and the resulting liquid is used to wash wounds. It kills bacteria—tiny pathogens that cause disease." 　Ayano prepared a simple disinfectant. She steeped the herbs in water, borrowed Genan's small heating apparatus, and carefully brought the mixture to a boil. Throughout the process, Genan observed in silence. 　At last, a clear liquid emerged. "The wound is washed with this liquid." 　Genan gazed at the liquid. His aged hand moved slowly toward the vessel containing it. He leaned close, breathing in its scent, studying its color. "...Where did you learn such knowledge?" 　His voice trembled faintly. "In a distant land." 　A vague answer. But Genan did not press further. Instead, he studied Ayano's face intently, as though his aged eyes sought to pierce to her very essence. "Is it sorcery?" 　It was less a question than a whisper. "No. It is medicine." 　Genan maintained his silence for several seconds. Then, slowly, he bent his knees. "...Please, teach me more of your knowledge." 　The old physician bowed his head. 　Ayano felt the weight of that moment. This old man had intuited the truth of her knowledge. The medical experience honed across sixty-three years of life had supported that intuition. "Very well. I will help." 　Chizuru watched the scene unfold. Her expression was complex. Hostility remained, but something was undeniably shifting. Her stern gaze moved back and forth between Ayano and Genan. 　 　That afternoon, Ayano began organizing the medicine storehouse alongside Genan. 　The old physician proved more flexible than she had anticipated. He listened to her explanations and absorbed her knowledge with hunger. He asked often "why is this so," seeking understanding rather than mere compliance. There was true scholarship in their dialogue. 　Deep within the storehouse, the two worked. Organizing shelves, classifying herbs, discussing new methods of sanitation management. When Ayano suggested "it should be done this way," Genan asked "why." In that exchange lay genuine learning. "That...pneumonia." "Yes. It is a disease caused by inflammation of the lungs. The cause is infection, but through isolation and sanitation management, infection can be prevented." "In our domain, many die of this illness each winter." 　His voice was low. Deep regret shone in his eyes. "In my youth, I studied under a great physician. But..." 　He did not continue. The failures of his medical practice in youth. The guilt that had bound him all these years. "It is not too late, even now." 　Ayano's words were simple, but certain. 　As evening fell, Ayano returned to Hanakage Tower. Chizuru's expression remained stern, though her words seemed slightly softer. 　Back in her room, Ayano gazed out at the castle town from her window. The setting sun painted the stone walls a deep red. 　Now she could see a path to survival in this castle. Medical knowledge as a weapon. And in the old physician, she had found her first true ally who understood. 　But then it came. 　Footsteps in the corridor. Heavy footsteps. A man's. Ayano's body tensed slightly. 　The door opened. "You are an unusual woman." 　Rikunosuke's eyes, standing in the doorway, appraised Ayano as though calculating her worth. In those dark eyes mingled the cold calculation of a strategist and something else entirely. "I am merely a nurse." 　Ayano's answer was brief. Her wariness of Rikunosuke had begun on her first day in Hanakage Tower. "What is a nurse?" 　Rikunosuke smiled. His smile concealed true intent. "...I do not believe I need answer that." 　Ayano rose and walked toward him. Maintaining a careful distance, her amber eyes met his blue ones. "I see." 　Rikunosuke departed. But Ayano remained standing until his figure disappeared down the corridor. 　(What is that man plotting?) 　Wariness took deeper root in Ayano's heart.