The black SUV sliced through Kyoto's quiet streets, its tires whispering over wet pavement. In the back seat, Hanna slept against Junho's arm, her body too drained to wake. Taehyun drove in silence, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, while Seri sat beside him, her gaze turned to the window.
"I don't believe you two," Seri said flatly. "We're in the middle of a war, and neither of you is working with a brain."
She was still unsatisfied about the lift situation.
"I just thought Junho would do it," Taehyun replied, keeping his eyes forward. "Hanna's always looking for him. Even when I picked her up from Takeda's place before."
Junho's voice was quiet. "I thought you might want to lift her because…" He paused for a second, his eyes flicking to Seri. "You're an assassin. Right?"
Taehyun's lips curved faintly as he kept his eyes on the road. "Being an assassin has nothing to do with caring for someone. You two are… something, aren't you?" His tone carried a teasing edge, and he glanced at Seri in the passenger seat.
Seri didn't answer. Her reaction was nothing more than a small, annoyed shift in her seat, her gaze still on the window.
"I'm not her boyfriend, if that's what you mean," Junho said quickly from the back. "I've always been with her, but not in the way you're thinking." His voice was steady, almost too steady, as if he was making sure Seri understood. He was trying to clear the air before she assumed anything.
"For God's sake, please stop," Seri muttered, pressing her hand to her forehead. Her arm was still bleeding, the dark stain spreading down her sleeve.
Taehyun's eyes flicked toward her, concern breaking through his usual composure. "Are you okay? You need to go to a hospital."
Junho leaned forward sharply from the back seat. "Just bring the car to the hospital."
"We don't have time for that," Seri replied firmly. "I'll treat it myself at Iwao's."
The weight in her voice left no room for argument. They exchanged glances, both knowing how bad it looked, but also knowing she wouldn't change her mind.
Neither of them realized that Hanna wasn't asleep. Her head rested against Junho's arm, but her eyes were open just enough to see the blur of lights outside. She heard every word.
They stepped into the Iwao compound, the silence deep and heavy. Their footsteps echoed faintly across the polished floor.
Outside, the sky had shifted—night finally giving way to morning. A pale light spilled through the windows. After a night that felt endless, dawn had finally arrived.
"Maybe you two should rest," Taehyun said gently, glancing at Junho and Hanna. "Hanna doesn't seem well."
Hanna's face was completely pale, her lips tinged blue. Her head still rested against Junho's arm, his hand steadying her as they walked.
"She'll be seen by the doctor in her room," Seri said, her voice steady. "The security here will show you both where to go."
She gave a short nod before turning to a nearby guard, speaking in Japanese. Her tone was soft yet firm as she instructed them to prepare a room, bring hot yuzu tea, and call the doctor immediately to treat all of them.
The guard offered a deep bow. "Understood, Takamine-sama."
As he led the way down the quiet hall, Junho didn't take his eyes off Seri. Every step felt heavier, like leaving her side even for a moment might cost more than he could bear.
Her eyes shimmered, lips trembling as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill. Seri paused near the hallway, her voice low with weariness.
"You should rest, Taehyun. I'll find Iwao myself."
Taehyun watched her for a beat, sensing the quiet sadness behind her strength, but he didn't stop her. "You need rest too. Please… treat your wound."
Seri pulled her hand back lightly, her voice quick but trembling. "It's nothing, but I will. There's so much more I need to do. Have a good rest."
She began to walk away, then turned back with a faint smile. "And thank you, Mr. Taehyun-sshi."
Taehyun's gaze softened. "If you thank me… then please take good care of yourself."
Seri's smile lingered for just a heartbeat before she turned and disappeared down the hall.
Meanwhile, at Takeda's estate, the air inside his private chamber was heavy with the scent of incense. This was the one room he allowed himself for rest, its sliding shoji doors shut tight against the noise of the world.
The silence broke when the door slid open. One of his men staggered in, his steps unsteady, clothes torn and stained from the night's events. He knelt on the tatami without lifting his head.
"The Kuro Ronin… was defeated," he reported, his voice low and hoarse. "Takamine Aira is no longer someone to underestimate."
Takeda did not react at once. He remained seated, his gaze fixed on the faint embers burning in the brazier before him. Then, slowly, a thin smile curved across his lips—calm, but edged with something darker.
"Good," he said at last.
He reached for a small photograph of a younger Seri, holding it between his fingers for a moment before letting it drop into the flames.
"When a warrior is cornered," he murmured, watching the picture curl and blacken, "their blood dances the fiercest."
The fire flared, devouring her image entirely.
"Then," his voice lowered, dripping with promise, "let us prepare a stage worthy of betrayal."
Seri stepped into her room without a sound, the faint scent of rain clinging to her clothes. She pulled a small emergency kit from the cabinet, laying out a few essentials on the low table. The cleaning stung as she dabbed at the wound, far from perfect, but enough to stop the bleeding. A fresh wrap secured it in place.
She changed quickly, her movements sharp and unhesitating, trading her torn clothes for something clean and unmarked. Without wasting another breath, she left the room and headed down the hall, her steps steady toward Iwao's quarters.
Seri stepped quietly into Iwao's space. The room was still, touched only by the soft morning light bleeding through the shoji panels. He was resting…peacefully, yet far too pale. She stood there, her heart heavy, but the words she wanted to say remained trapped.
She didn't want to disturb him. Not now. Not like this.
Turning away, she let the silence cradle him a little longer. Closing the door gently behind her, Seri steadied her breath and walked toward the living room, where Kobayashi Gin waited. Her steps were silent, but her purpose was loud.
Kobayashi Gin, Iwao's assistant, sat quietly with two cups of genmaicha steaming between them. The earthy scent filled the air, grounding the space in calm.
He looked up as Seri entered, now dressed in a clean, simple outfit that hid the fresh bandages beneath. Her hair was slightly tousled, her expression composed yet shadowed. No weapons in sight, only the weight of everything she had fought for lingering in her presence.
This time, Kobayashi Gin did not speak in Japanese. He offered the cup with both hands, placing it in front of her like a quiet truce.
"Sit, Aira. Take a sip of this. You've earned more than silence."
Seri took the cup without a word, her fingers curling around the warmth as if to steady herself. The earthy aroma was calming, but her eyes never softened.
"Looks like the night didn't go easy on you," he said quietly, studying her face. "Your eyes… they've seen more than blood, haven't they?"
The silence that followed was heavier than any battle.
Finally, Kobayashi set his cup down, his voice low. "The poison was slow. Precise. Meant to make him weak, not kill him immediately. They wanted him silent, not gone. But he's been holding on…for you."
Seri's grip on the cup tightened, her breath trembling.
"If he didn't believe in you," Kobayashi continued, "he would've let go already."
Her gaze lowered, eyes shimmering. "I should've known," she whispered. "All this time… he was protecting me."
"He never stopped," Kobayashi said with a sigh. "Even when the council turned their backs, even when Takeda betrayed him, he still believed in the path he chose. And you… were always part of that path."
Seri placed the cup down gently. Her hand clenched against her knee, jaw set. "Then I won't waste another second. If they want silence… I'll give them a storm."
"Just remember," Kobayashi warned, "storms don't choose who they destroy."
"But they chose to keep their crimes alive," Seri replied coldly. "And they're using Junho to cover it."
Kobayashi's gaze didn't waver. "Don't forget… we're using Junho too. We need him, just like they do."
"No," Seri said, her voice trembling but firm. "We're protecting him. That's the difference."
Her fists clenched, her eyes burning like a gathering storm. "If this gets any worse… if Iwao falls, if Junho breaks… I'll stop holding back."
"I know," Kobayashi said softly.
Neither of them noticed the shadow behind the paper wall. Junho had come only to ask about her arm, his heart restless with worry, but the words froze him in place.
We're using Junho too. We need him, just like they do
The sentence cut deep. He didn't move, didn't speak. He only turned away, his steps silent, carrying with him the weight of something colder than betrayal.
Seri exhaled slowly, steadying her breath. "You have to look after Iwao Kobayashi-sama… like you always did."
"You don't have to worry," Kobayashi replied. "I'm alert to his condition. He may seem weak… but he's improving. Slowly, but surely. Takeda thought he was already dying… but little does he know…" His mouth curled into a thin smile. "We have more than just a doctor on our side."
"I'm glad to hear that," she murmured, placing the cup down one last time. "I don't want to lose him too."