"They think she's weak. They're about to learn otherwise."
Morning came too fast.
I'd barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my old apartment. My chair. My monitor. The life I'd lost. Then I'd wake up in silk sheets, in a body that wasn't mine, and panic all over again.
The maid—her name was Aya, I'd learned—arrived at dawn with three other women. They bathed me, dressed me, painted my face. I sat like a doll, trying not to think about how strange it felt to have hands on my body, this body, touching places that—
Don't think about it. Just survive.
By the time they finished, Lady Kaito looked like a painting. Elaborate kimono. Perfect makeup. Hair arranged in ways that must have taken an hour.
I looked in the mirror.
She was beautiful. I could admit that. Even through the panic, I could see why the game designers spent so long on her character model.
But her eyes were wrong.
Too calm. Too controlled. Too much like someone who'd spent years hiding every emotion behind a perfect mask.
That wasn't me. I was a forty-two-year-old guy who wore sweatpants to the convenience store.
But for today, I'd have to pretend.
The council chamber was bigger than I expected.
Wooden pillars. Sliding doors open to a garden. A long table with five men seated, all watching as I entered.
My heart hammered. Her heart. Same thing now.
I walked to the head of the table. Sat. Arranged my sleeves the way Aya had shown me.
No one spoke.
I looked at them. Really looked.
And the game came flooding back.
Lord Fujiwara.
Fifties. Silver hair. Smiling eyes that didn't reach. In the game, he was the smiling villain—charming, patient, and utterly ruthless. The assassination in Chapter 2? His doing. The conspiracy to destroy Lady Kaito's domain? His plan. In every playthrough, he was the one pulling strings behind the scenes.
He sat to my right, watching me with that same smile.
I know what you did, I thought. I know what you're going to do. And tomorrow, you're going to try to kill me.
I smiled back.
General Tanaka.
Forties. Scarred face. Built like a warrior who'd spent more time on battlefields than in courts. In the game, he was one of the few truly loyal characters. He died defending Lady Kaito's castle in Chapter 5. Bravely. Stupidly. Because no one told him the enemy was already inside.
He sat across from me, arms crossed, watching everyone else with barely concealed suspicion.
You're going to die for her, I thought. For me. I need to stop that.
Minister Abe.
Sixties. Jowly. Nervous hands. In the game, he was Fujiwara's puppet—easily manipulated, always voting the wrong way. He died in Chapter 4, caught between factions, crushed by forces he never understood.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
Lord Sato.
Fifties. Thin. Watchful. In the game, he was a mystery. He never took sides, never spoke much, never revealed his hand. Players argued about him for years. Was he loyal? Was he a traitor? The game never confirmed.
He met my gaze evenly. No smile. No fear. Just... waiting.
I don't know about you yet.
Elder Yamamoto.
Seventies. Ancient. Half-asleep. In the game, he was a relic—respected but irrelevant. He died off-screen between chapters, and no one really noticed.
He was snoring softly.
Fujiwara broke the silence.
"My Lady, we're relieved to see you recovered. Your collapse alarmed us all." His voice was warm. Concerned. Perfectly acted.
"Thank you, Lord Fujiwara." My voice. Her voice. Steady. "I'm feeling much better."
"Excellent, excellent." He clasped his hands. "While you were unwell, I took the liberty of managing a few matters. Purely routine, of course. I have the documents here for your review."
He slid a stack of papers toward me.
Game memory: In every playthrough, Fujiwara used her "illness" to consolidate power. These documents would transfer authority, shift resources, weaken her position. If I signed them, I'd be handing him the domain on a silver platter.
I picked up the top sheet. Read it slowly.
It was exactly what I expected. A land transfer. From Lady Kaito's direct control to "temporary administration" under Fujiwara's supervision.
I set it down.
"I'll review these personally. After the council."
Fujiwara's smile flickered. Just slightly. "Of course, My Lady. Take all the time you need."
General Tanaka snorted. "What he means is, he hoped you'd sign them without reading."
Fujiwara's eyes narrowed. "General. That's an inappropriate accusation."
"Is it?" Tanaka leaned forward. "Then why are all the transfers in your favor?"
Minister Abe shifted nervously. "Gentlemen, please. This is a council, not a—"
"I'm simply trying to help," Fujiwara said smoothly. "With My Lady's health concerns, someone must ensure the domain doesn't suffer."
"And that someone should be you?"
"Who else has the experience?"
"The heir," Sato said quietly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Sato didn't blink. "Lady Kaito is the heir. The domain is hers. If she needs assistance, she should choose her own advisors. Not have them chosen for her."
Fujiwara's smile tightened. "Lord Sato. How... practical of you."
"Someone should be."
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.
I watched them all. Tanaka, ready to fight. Abe, sweating. Sato, unreadable. Fujiwara, hiding murder behind a smile.
And Yamamoto, still snoring.
This is her life. Every day. These people, these knives hidden behind words.
I stood.
Everyone rose immediately—even Yamamoto jerked awake, confused.
"I'll review the documents," I said. "We'll reconvene tomorrow. Lord Fujiwara, I appreciate your concern. Truly. But I'm feeling quite well now. There's no need for... temporary measures."
Fujiwara bowed. "Of course, My Lady. I only want what's best for the domain."
"I know."
I held his gaze.
I know exactly what you want.
Back in my chambers, I collapsed onto the floor.
My hands were shaking. Her hands. Shaking.
Aya rushed over. "My Lady! Are you ill?"
"I'm fine." I wasn't. "Just... tired."
She helped me to the futon. Removed the heavy outer robes. Brought tea.
I stared at the cup.
Poison. In the game, it was tea.
Tomorrow. Fujiwara. Tea.
I set the cup down. Untouched.
"Leave me," I said softly. "I need to rest."
Aya bowed. "Yes, My Lady."
The door slid closed.
I sat alone in silk robes, in a body that wasn't mine, in a world that wanted me dead.
Then I remembered.
The journal.
In the game, Lady Kaito kept a journal. It wasn't important—just flavor text, background details. But in the hidden route, the one where she survived, the journal was key.
It contained names. Secrets. Evidence of the conspiracy.
If it existed in the game, maybe it existed here.
I searched.
Drawers. Cabinets. A hidden compartment behind a wall scroll.
And there. Leather-bound. Old.
Her journal.
I opened it carefully.
The handwriting was elegant. Precise. Nothing like my chicken-scratch.
I read.
Day 47 of the Year of the Tiger.
Fujiwara grows bolder. He doesn't know I see. He thinks I'm weak—a woman playing at power. Let him think it.
I've documented everything. Every meeting. Every transfer. Every whispered word in dark corridors.
When the time comes, he'll learn.
Page after page. Names. Dates. Amounts. Proof of conspiracy stretching back years.
And near the back, a final entry.
Day 12 of the Year of the Rabbit.
If I don't survive, someone must know.
He's not just after me. He's after everything.
The domain. The alliances. The—
The page was torn.
Only one word remained at the bottom, written larger than the rest, pressed hard into the paper:
Ren.
My heart stopped.
Her heart. Mine. Same thing.
Ren.
I knew that name. The game had mentioned it—Lady Kaito's betrothed, a warrior, presumed dead. A minor detail. A tragic backstory.
But the way she wrote it... the pressure of the pen... the tear marks on the page...
She'd been crying when she wrote this.
Who was he? What happened to him? And why was his name on the page that was torn out?
I pressed my hand to my chest.
Warmth. Longing. Fear.
Not mine. Hers.
She was still here. Somehow. Some part of her.
And she wanted me to find him.
A knock at the door.
I shoved the journal under the futon.
"Yes?"
A servant's voice. "My Lady. A message has arrived."
I opened the door. Took the scroll. Unrolled it.
One line.
He's alive. Hide. Wait for me.
No signature.
But I knew.
Ren.