Lelouch awoke slowly, warmth pressed against him on both sides.
Nina slept curled against his chest, her breathing light and uneven, fingers still clutching the edge of his shirt as if afraid he might vanish. On his other side, Kallen lay sprawled with careless confidence, one arm draped over his torso, her presence solid and grounding.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to remain still.
Then he leaned down and kissed Nina's forehead. She stirred, murmuring something unintelligible. He followed with a kiss to Kallen's lips—short, familiar. One eye opened.
"Morning," she muttered.
"Morning," Lelouch replied calmly.
He disentangled himself with care and rose from the bed. As he dressed, his phone vibrated softly on the table.
A single message.
Your Highness, the meeting has been scheduled for this afternoon.
Lelouch smiled.
Finally.
The last piece that resisted him in Area Eleven.
---------------------------------------------------------
That afternoon, a group of officials entered a private conference room beneath an unassuming building in Kyoto.
They were governors, industrial liaisons, and economic overseers of Area Eleven. All corrupt. All bound by a secret agreement with the Six Houses of Kyoto—the true financial backbone of the terrorist groups operating in the area.
In exchange for resources and protection, they had hidden the Houses' involvement, erased paper trails, and redirected investigations.
Waiting inside were six figures already seated.
The Six Houses of Kyoto.
Power concealed beneath tradition. Wealth hidden behind ritual and ceremony.
Their expressions were cold as the officials took their seats.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," one of the Six said sharply, fingers tapping against the table. "Let us not waste time. What could possibly justify an emergency meeting?"
"Is this about Shinjuku?" another added. "I sincerely hope our… private dealings have not been exposed. That would be problematic."
The officials exchanged knowing glances—just long enough to unsettle the Heads of the Six.
"By order of the prince who rules Area Eleven," one of them said at last, "several changes will be implemented in the near future. However, we have brought someone who can explain these matters far better than we could."
Behind the officials, one of their aides stepped forward and walked calmly toward the Six Houses.
Every guard stiffened. Every gaze followed him.
Too easy, Lelouch thought.
Before anyone could speak, his Geass activated.
Become my slaves.
The command required no embellishment.
Six wills shattered in unison.
The meeting ended in that instant—and began anew.
---------------------------------------------------------
The atmosphere had changed completely.
Lelouch now sat comfortably at the head of the table, posture relaxed, one leg crossed over the other.
Behind him, Villetta Nu rested her hands on his shoulders, kneading slowly and methodically. At the opposite end, Kaguya Sumeragi knelt with practiced elegance, her hands working gently along his feet, her expression serene and obedient.
The Heads of the Six Houses listened in absolute silence.
"As you have just learned," Lelouch said evenly, "there are several things that will change in Area Eleven."
He did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
"First," he continued, "the Sakuradite mines."
His gaze shifted to Kirihara.
"You will cede full exploitation rights to Britannia. Production, transport, and security. Effective immediately."
"Yes, Your Highness," Kirihara replied without hesitation.
"Second," Lelouch said, "the Guren Type II."
A ripple of surprise crossed the room.
"It exists only as a design," one of them said carefully. "It has not yet been constructed."
"Then you will transfer the plans," Lelouch replied, unmoved. "Along with its creator. Rakshata Chawla will be delivered to Britannian custody."
He tilted his head slightly.
"I trust she is already in Area Eleven?"
"She is," came the immediate reply. "We shall comply, Your Highness."
"Good," Lelouch said. "Third—your Knightmare production capabilities."
Factories. Engineers. Supply chains.
"All of it will be placed under Britannian oversight," he ordered. "You will continue to operate them—for me."
His tone sharpened.
"And forget about producing inferior machines like the Burai. Our forces require Glasgows and Gloucesters. Britannian engineers will be dispatched to supervise the transition."
Acknowledgments followed one after another.
"And finally," Lelouch said, leaning back slightly, Villetta's hands never ceasing, "you will provide every scrap of information you possess regarding terrorist activity in Area Eleven."
Names. Routes. Safehouses. Sponsors. Bases.
"Nothing is to be withheld."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Lelouch surveyed them one last time.
Area Eleven was no longer fractured.
Its economy.
Its industry.
Its secrets.
All flowed toward a single point.
Him.