Saimei's voice was sharp but curious. "Then… why did you stay behind for 300 years when you could have changed his perspective? You could've easily become the Ribbon Prince's right hand instead of Yurei."
Sozai froze briefly, then recomposed himself with a somewhat awkward grin.
"That's… actually a huge story," he replied, his voice dropping slightly, as if trying to make Saimei understand something deeper. His hands moved subtly for emphasis. "I like making things wider… besides, I never wanted to be the Ribbon Prince's right hand."
Saimei furrowed his brows. "Then what is your goal? You never told anyone in 300 years… at least tell me now."
Thoughtfully, Saimei touched the flag in his hand, eyes fixed on Sozai. Sozai took a breath, then with theatrical flair, pushed back his half-wet ponytail.
"My goal… is to become Kuradome-sama's right hand."
Saimei blinked—not because he thought it impossible, but because Kuradome had never named anyone his right hand before.
"That?" Saimei asked in a quieter tone, stepping slightly closer, as if sharing a secret.
"Yes. That."
Saimei raised a skeptical brow.
"That simple thing took you 300 years to tell an old teammate? That's not even a real secret. Every servant, maid, and guard dreams of being by Kuradome-sama's side, just like Yurei. Some even end up closer than that."
Sozai looked skyward, letting out a dramatic chuckle. He placed a hand over his forehead like shielding sunlight, then swiped his wet ponytail back again—splashing a little water onto Saimei.
Saimei muttered internally: How much drama does he drink per day to act like this? Irritating… but kind of heart-touching.
Sozai sighed, hand on his hip. Saimei's eyes flicked to him, slightly distracted.
"Not every secret can be told, you know~" Sozai said, pointing at Saimei with a playful smirk. "If you tell people your true soul-goal, and then fail… you just become a joke."
Saimei stared, speechless for a moment. His mind clicked quietly with the logic. He had to admit—it made uncomfortable sense. Before he could speak, Sozai winked and casually walked away, standing in front of a white line with a flag in his hand.
"I'll keep this line. Trust me."
Saimei sighed, a faint smile appearing on his lips.
Elsewhere, Yurei stood inside an expansive hall decorated with velvet red and silver fabrics, shimmering blue gems adorning the pillars. Usually, the hall had red and gold as its signature theme—but today, it felt more somber, regal, and cold.
He noticed Sozai now at the leader's position—in front. That made him blink. Sozai usually stood behind, not at the front line.
"This freak's going to lead? He's gonna ruin it... just like he ruined my sleep. And even—ugh, never mind."
Yurei muttered something bitter under his breath. Then, a voice—low, sly, and utterly invisible—curled into his mind.
"Oh, really?~ Then you only like my fangs in your skin while you sleep… don't you?"
Yurei froze. His throat tightened as he swallowed, and his expression darkened ever so slightly. He knew exactly what the voice meant.
"No. Only payment. Nothing more," he answered—sharper, colder than his usual, and with a trace of pain.
It was nothing like the stubborn, teasing front he showed Sozai.
The voice only chuckled, the sound ringing in his ears like fine glass cracking. Yurei drew in a long breath. Then, mercifully, the voice fell silent, giving him space to breathe again.
When he turned toward the four thrones, Sozai caught his gaze and winked playfully, as always. Yurei didn't know what to feel—annoyed by Sozai, yet oddly comforted too. At least Sozai's presence didn't splinter through his mind like that other voice.
The thrones stood in a proud line:
Kuradome's, the largest and most ornate, befitting his rule.
Beside it, Lady Bài Qíyuè's—equally luxurious, its artistry a match to Kuradome's grandeur.
Kyoren's was smaller, but refined and elegant.
And finally, Yurei's—respectful in design, but undeniably the smallest, a quiet reminder of his place.
"Where is Kyoren-sama and Kuradome-sama? And… is Kuradome-sama even ready for today? His wound… didn't even heal with healing power…"
Yurei asked quietly, unsure of what was happening behind the scenes. He wasn't informed about Kyoren's condition or Kuradome's movements.
Then—
They appeared.
Kuradome and Kyoren entered side by side, both draped in matching robes. Their hair was styled almost identically, half-bound, though Kuradome's was longer and straighter. Kyoren's was slightly shorter and curled at the ends, falling softly over his forehead.
Kuradome wore a wide royal crown ribbon, holding a glossy silver fabric across his eyes. Kyoren wore the same fabric.
The two of them walked forward with quiet power, like twin flames gliding across the earth. Their presence was like polished silver, reflecting each other in grace and aura.
The crowd erupted.
Servants threw flower petals that rained gently over their robes. Guards struck the ground with their swords: thut-thut-thut... thut-thut-thut. The music of drums, guqin, and flutes swelled behind the echo.
"King Kazomaki!"
"Prince Kazomaki!"
"May your ribbons never fade!"
Yurei's eyes widened. The father and son… looked stunning. Unreal even… which was too much compared to regular times of those days.
"Stunning..."
He whispered, bowing politely. Not too low—but enough to show sincere respect and hope Kuradome wouldn't punish him for last night's mistake.
Kuradome and Kyoren raised their hands, signaling Yurei to rise, and commanding the crowd to fall silent. Their eyes—especially Kuradome's behind the silver fabric—were no longer the deep velvet red.
Instead, they glitched.
Cold. Calculated. Unreadable.
They sat down together—legs crossing at the same time, same direction, same rhythm. Like twin rulers without being any twin.
Yurei quickly took his place on the smaller throne, eyes forward. Sozai looked at him, smiling with odd pride, as if silently saying: See? You're sitting there now.
But there was a flicker of sadness too.
Sozai's eyes shifted toward Kyoren, sitting beside Yurei. Kyoren looked back for a brief second—his expression too calm to be real. His golden eyes, now reflecting silver through the veil, showed the faintest smile.
It felt fake.
Then, Kuradome spoke.
His arm rested over the throne's handle , the other gracefully folded in front. The wide silver sleeve fell like a cascading rose petal.
"Thank you, everyone," Kuradome said in his regal tone. "For waiting. For gathering today for the Royal Guard Parade, and to welcome Lady Bài Qíyuè. As with every year, I believe this day will remain memorable. And I trust you all will continue to stand by our side."
His voice—gentle but razor-sharp—cut through the air like chilled wind. Behind the silver veil, his eyes flickered again.
Not velvet-red.
But glitched.
And something didn't feel like him at all.