The palace grounds buzzed with quiet anticipation, an orchestra of hushed whispers and shifting fabric. The morning sun poured down over the Kazomaki Palace, gilding the black-and-gold banners in shimmering light. Guards stood in rigid, polished formation outside the ceremonial gate, their armor reflecting the brilliance of the sky. Each one bore the fluttering black-and-gold flag of the Kazomaki Kingdom, the fabric snapping crisply in the early breeze.
Behind them, two rows of servants stood perfectly aligned. The men, dressed in simple black silk, bowed in formal greeting, their hands resting against their thighs. The women knelt gracefully on crimson mats, baskets of flower petals balanced between their fingers. Their task was sacred—to shower the arriving Queen with roses, a rain of blossoms symbolizing welcome and renewal.
The air itself felt suspended, heavy with expectation. Somewhere deep inside the palace halls, the steps of royalty had yet to echo.
The only ones missing now were the King, the Queen, and the crown ribbon and ribbon Prince himself.
From a discreet vantage point near the right flank of the gate, Ennagiri's sharp eyes scanned the crowd—and promptly landed on two very familiar figures.
Sozai. Impossible to miss.
The man sauntered in wearing an eye-catching red-and-gold robe, utterly unconcerned with the rigid dress code choking everyone else. His arm was slung lazily around Yurei's shoulders as though this was a casual stroll rather than one of the kingdom's most important ceremonial mornings. Yurei, in stark contrast, radiated the usual stormy aura—gray eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, annoyance practically carved into his face. Yet, freshly washed hair clung to his cheekbones, and the lingering dampness of his robe betrayed what Ennagiri already suspected.
"…Unbelievable," Ennagiri whispered to himself, lips curving in faint amusement.
He let his gaze linger on them a little longer, words spilling like a secret poem that only the wind would ever hear.
"He's like a strange sunshine of the Kazomaki Palace… not a crown prince, not even a crown ribbon. Just him… himself."
Almost as if in response, Sozai grinned, tugged Yurei a little closer, and whispered something in his ear. Yurei swatted at him halfheartedly, cheeks twitching pink before he noticed Ennagiri watching. He straightened immediately, waving him off with that classic "angry bird" wave of irritation.
Sozai only leaned in and stage-whispered something louder:
"See you later, baby fox~ Best of luck!"
He punctuated it with a wink so theatrical it could've been seen from the roof tiles. Then, in a flicker of red-gold silk, he melted into the rows of guards, leaving behind nothing but his scent of roses and a trail of laughter.
Yurei exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath, but Ennagiri swore—just for a moment—that he caught the smallest, most reluctant wave at Sozai's retreating back.
Meanwhile, far from the palace, at the forest border of Baiyun…
Lady Bài Qíyuè, Queen of the Inner Kingdom, stood before an invisible barrier. Her robes flowed like liquid moonlight, silver and crimson stitched with phoenix feathers. She reached into her sleeve and drew out an obsidian key—long and slender, forged from volcanic jade. Sealed in crimson spell-thread, it pulsed faintly in her hand like a living thing.
Her fingers curled around it with reverence.
Whispering an ancient incantation older than any mortal tongue, she hurled the key forward.
The air shivered.
Space itself seemed to fold and ripple as though an invisible curtain had been tugged aside. A glowing replica of a doorway appeared, trembling, half-substantial. She caught it gracefully in midair, her jade rings glittering, before slamming it down into the ground.
A low rumble groaned through the forest floor.
The sacred door to Fukaki cracked open, its frame etched in runes that burned with golden fire. Mist spilled forth in waves, fragrant with divine energy and old, forgotten memories.
Bài Qíyuè's eyes narrowed, calm and unreadable.
I don't want your power stone this time, Kuradome," she murmured, her voice more prayer than declaration. "I want you."
Among yokai royalty, personal power stones were the ultimate offering—artifacts born from one's spirit, shared only to bind two fates together and stabilize kingdoms. But her offering today was far more dangerous. Not a stone. Not a charm.
Her hand pressed over her heart.
"This time…" she whispered, the words slipping into the mist, "…I'll try to melt the frost in your heart."
And beyond that threshold lay a man chained to his duty, and a son torn between two worlds.
Back at the palace, the sky suddenly shimmered. A ripple of golden light streaked across the horizon—the unmistakable sign of the Queen's domain door opening. For just a breath, the air was alive with her energy before the light faded into nothingness.
The entire court shifted, eyes instinctively turning toward the distant forest.
She was coming.
Even before she reached the gates, faint echoes of joyous voices carried on the breeze—border yokai shouting praises, showering her with roses as she passed. The sound was faint but electric, raising goosebumps among the staff and guards who waited on the palace steps. Sozai, lounging far too casually behind a towering bear yokai, tapped his foot and muttered under his breath.Ah, time's running out… she's close. But where the hell are Kuradome-sama and Kyoren-sama? I thought me and Yurei were the only late party here."
He sighed, louder now. "Who knows if Kyoren-sama will even attend. He was half-dead last night."
The bear yokai beside him—Saimei, second-in-command of the royal guard—narrowed his eyes at Sozai, brow furrowing as he took in the younger guard's appearance.
Red and gold… robes of that kind were reserved strictly for the highest ranks—officials with titles, badges, and authority. Yet Yurei wore his effortlessly, a mark of his position as the right hand. With that status, acquiring high-class garments was easy, almost routine.
Even the boldest yokai knew better than to challenge the hierarchy. Few dared to cross the lines marked by crown ribbons, and none who valued their lives—or their place in the kingdom—would break the rules so openly.