Five days had passed since life in Hanage Tower began. 　The work in the medicine storehouse with Genuan was Ayano's only respite. The old physician actually listened to her words. When she taught him disinfection methods, he would ask "why," and when she explained the concept of isolation, he would narrow his eyes and nod. In those hours alone, Ayano was not an "odd woman"—she was simply a medical practitioner. 　But the moment she returned to Hanage Tower, the air transformed entirely. 　Walking the corridors, the female attendants' gazes pierced her back. They whispered to one another in hushed tones, and the instant Ayano turned around, they all looked away in unison. No one said anything directly. Yet a damp, suffocating pressure of silence continued from morning until night. 　Chizuru was merciless. 　If Ayano fumbled even slightly with her morning dressing, Chizuru would say coldly, "Have you forgotten Article Three of Hanage Tower's ordinances?" If her eating etiquette became too modern, she would correct her at once: "The left hand is not used in such a manner." During the evening practice of proper conduct, no matter how many times Ayano repeated the movements, Chizuru's brow never once softened. 　*This person really does hate me,* Ayano thought. It was something deeper than mere dislike. Chizuru saw Ayano as a foreign element disrupting the order of this castle. It was an instinctive defensive reaction—something logic could not overcome. Understanding that did not make five days of it any less exhausting. 　That night, Ayano could not sleep. 　Lying in her bedding with her eyes open, she counted the wood grain patterns on the ceiling. Somewhere within the castle, insects sang their autumn songs. The season was deepening, and the air flowing through the window had grown cold and crisp. 　Her gaze drifted toward the window, and a pale blue light spilled through. 　The moon. 　Tonight it burned with particular brilliance. Light as clear and white as fine sand seeped through the paper screen and into her room. Ayano rose quietly and slid the screen open just slightly. 　The moon floated above the castle's stone walls. Perfectly round, without a single blemish. Its outline was so sharp and defined—far clearer than anything visible in the night sky of the modern era. Without the city's artificial glow, the moon of this age revealed itself with stunning clarity. 　*I'll step outside for just a moment.* 　Chizuru should be asleep. If she only walked a short distance and returned, perhaps no one would notice. Ayano took up a thin outer robe, muffled her footsteps, and slipped from her room. 　The corridors of Hanage Tower lay in perfect silence. 　Ayano walked slowly. Each time the wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet, her body went rigid—but no one emerged. As she passed through the connecting corridor, the night air touched her face. It was cold, clear, and carried a faintly clean scent. Mountain air, she thought. It was natural for a castle nestled in the mountains of Shinano, yet she found herself wanting to draw it deep into her lungs. 　Her feet turned toward the direction of the main palace. 　Walking across moonlit stone pavers, Ayano's mind drifted. Since arriving at this castle, she had felt as though she were constantly performing. Trying to learn Sengoku etiquette while carrying modern knowledge. Attempting to behave as a female attendant while suppressing her instincts as a nurse. Everything was half-formed, never quite fitting anywhere completely. 　As she walked, the view suddenly opened before her. 　Adjacent to the main palace, there was a garden. 　Ayano's feet stopped of their own accord. 　The Tougetsu Garden—Chizuru had explicitly forbidden her from entering this garden near the castle lord's chambers. Yet in this moment, seeing it bathed in moonlight, Ayano found herself unable to move. 　The white sand gleamed silver. 　Within the carefully raked waves of sand lay stones of a dark, bluish-black hue scattered like stars. The largest were as tall as a man; the smallest, no bigger than a fist. Each caught the moonlight and shone as though wet. The ripples in the sand resembled a frozen sea—or rather, Ayano thought, they were like winter moonlight itself. She recalled Chizuru mentioning that the previous castle lord had summoned a master gardener from Kyoto to create this. Indeed, this was unmistakably a garden of exceptional beauty. 　And then. 　In the depths of the garden, there was a figure. 　Ayano's feet halted upon the stone pavers. 　A man in black robes stood beside one of the larger stones. His bound black hair swayed slightly in the breeze. His face was tilted toward the sky, and in the direction of his gaze lay—stars. 　It was Shioori Renyo. 　He was different from the castle lord she saw during the day. The sharp tension that accompanied him when he sat in the council chamber was absent now. He simply stood in silence, gazing upward at the heavens. The expression on his profile was one Ayano had never witnessed before. Not exhaustion, not anger. Simply—loneliness. 　A twenty-eight-year-old man, alone in the night, contemplating the stars. 　*I have to leave,* Ayano thought. This was a forbidden garden, and if the castle lord discovered her here in the dead of night, it would be far worse than any rebuke from Chizuru. Yet her feet would not move. She could not tear her eyes from that profile. 　"Who stands there?" 　His voice was low and quiet—not a shout, but a simple statement seeking confirmation. Renyo turned to face her. [cold] "Who stands there?" 　Ayano's breath caught. This was bad. He had noticed her completely. Running would only make the impression worse. She resigned herself to her fate and stepped forward from the stone pavers. 　 [scared] "...It is I, Ayano. I could not sleep and was taking a walk." 　 [cold] "Those of the inner quarters should not wander near the main palace in the dead of night." 　The rebuke was exactly as she had expected. Ayano bowed her head. 　 [serious] "I apologize." 　But the next words escaped her lips before she could stop them. 　 [gentle] "Does the castle lord also find sleep elusive?" 　Renyo's movements froze for an instant. 　Even in the moonlight, she could perceive it. His body, which had been as still as stone, seemed to startle slightly—as though surprised by something. But the moment passed, and he returned to his former state. That cold profile. That expressionless face, as though emotions had been crushed beneath the surface. 　 [cold] "Do not pry into matters that do not concern you." 　 [gentle] "Forgive me." 　Yet even as she apologized, Ayano found herself unable to leave. Renyo turned his gaze back to the sky and fell silent. Two shadows lay upon the white sand—one for each of them. With each gust of wind, the ripples in the sand trembled faintly. 　After a prolonged silence, Ayano spoke quietly. 　 [gentle] "Is it not lonely...to gaze at the stars alone?" 　Renyo did not answer. 　He simply continued looking upward, but the quality of the silence seemed to shift. Not rejection, not dismissal—but something like contemplation. Ayano watched his profile gently. 　The moonlight illuminated a scar on Renyo's right ear—a small mark. Yet in this brightness, it was clearly visible. When had he received that wound? What had the life of a castle lord forced him to bear? He had inherited his domain at seventeen and spent the eleven years since protecting this small fief alone in these mountains. 　*This person has no one,* she realized suddenly. He had retainers, elders, female attendants, soldiers. But in the dead of night, stepping into the garden to gaze at stars—he had no one to speak with. 　 [cold] "Return." 　Renyo's voice was brief. Devoid of emotion. Yet to Ayano, it did not sound like rejection—rather, as though he simply did not know how to continue speaking. 　 [serious] "Yes." 　Ayano bowed and turned to leave the Tougetsu Garden. 　As she walked the corridors back to Hanage Tower, the moonlight pursued her shadow. Watching her silhouette cast upon the stone pavers, Ayano reflected. Perhaps he was not cold by nature—perhaps he simply had to be cold. At twenty-eight, bearing the lives of sixteen thousand people upon his shoulders, guarding his domain while wedged between larger, more powerful fiefs. He had never possessed the luxury of showing emotion. 　If that were true, then his loneliness was real. 　 [whispers] "...What was I even asking that for?" 　In a voice no one could hear, Ayano smiled sadly to herself. As a modern nurse, she was accustomed to inquiring after patients' feelings. But what she felt now seemed different from professional empathy. It was something more personal. 　She returned to her room in Hanage Tower and lay down in her bedding. 　In the cold night air, colder now than before, she closed her eyes—and Renyo's profile appeared in her mind. That expression as he gazed at the stars. Not the face of the ruthless castle lord who decided matters of life and death in the mirror chamber during the day, but simply the face of a twenty-eight-year-old man. 　*I'm feeling something,* she acknowledged. 　She placed her hand upon her chest. Her pulse was not particularly quickened. Yet something caught there, something she could not quite release. Was it sympathy? Interest? Or something else entirely? She could not classify it. 　Unable to sleep, yet more at peace than before, Ayano kept her eyes closed. 　Meanwhile, in the Tougetsu Garden, Renyo stood alone upon the white sand, his gaze lowered. 　The words "Is it not lonely?" lingered still in the depths of his ears. 　When was the last time someone had asked him such a thing? Or perhaps—never at all. 　He turned his face skyward once more. The stars remained unchanged, fixed in their eternal positions. Cold, distant, immovable. 　Why did that woman look at him with such eyes? 　When he pronounced death in the council chamber, when he heard of Kutsuragi Rikunosuke's schemes—no one ever directed such a gaze toward him. Only fear, respect, or calculation. Her eyes had been entirely different. 　A quiet autumn breeze flowed through the Tougetsu Garden. 　The ripples in the white sand trembled faintly. 　The following morning, as Ayano walked the corridors of Hanage Tower, Chizuru stood waiting with her arms crossed. Her eyes held that sharp, penetrating gaze—as though she knew everything that had transpired the night before.