Kyoto's Hotel Nishiyama basked in the soft glow of morning sunlight, the golden light slipping through heavy curtains and brushing against the quiet walls. In one of its upper-floor rooms, Bora groaned beneath her blanket before sluggishly sitting up, hair tangled in all directions. She clutched her stomach like it had betrayed her.
"Ugh… who told me to eat five bowls of udon? Was it a buffet or a trap?" she grumbled, dragging herself toward the mirror in an oversized pajama tee. Her reflection stared back at her with equally dramatic disbelief.
"If this dress doesn't zip up tomorrow… I'm blaming Kyoto cuisine," she muttered, poking at her own cheeks before flopping onto the bed again.
Downstairs, in the warm and polished lounge of Hotel Nishiyama, Daejin sat at a quiet corner table, scrolling through his phone while nursing a cup of coffee. Dressed neatly despite the early hour, he paused when Taehyun's message appeared on the screen:
Junho & Hanna are with me. Don't worry. It's a short detour, for work.
Daejin exhaled, typing back quickly.
"I told you not to scare the interns, Taehyun…" he murmured under his breath before glancing toward the hallway, already sensing the day ahead would be nothing short of chaos.
He took another sip of coffee, mumbling again to himself.
"So today? A sightseeing-and-wasting-time kind of day, huh…"
Back at Iwao's place, the warm hues of late afternoon sunlight slipped through the sliding shoji doors, casting delicate shadows over the tatami floor. The air carried the scent of fresh miso soup, grilled fish, and steeping tea, wrapping the room in a calm that only comes after chaos.
Back at Iwao's place, the warm hues of late afternoon sunlight slipped through the sliding shoji doors, casting delicate shadows across the tatami floor. The air was scented with fresh miso soup, grilled fish, and steeping tea, the quiet stillness a stark contrast to the night before.
In one of the guest rooms, Hanna sat propped against a stack of cushions while the doctor packed away his instruments. His voice was calm, almost reassuring, as he gave his verdict.
"It's just a minor fever," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Plenty of rest and a light meal will help her recover."
A maid stepped forward, bowing slightly before placing a tray of steaming porridge and warm yuzu tea on the low table beside her. Hanna's eyelids felt heavy, but she managed a faint smile before the maid gently guided the tray closer.
Down the hall, Junho had already finished being treated. The faint scent of antiseptic still clung to him as he stepped into the corridor. Taehyun was leaning casually against the wall, arms folded.
"Come on," he said, his tone lighter than the day's events. "Let's have lunch. She'll be fine with the maid looking after her."
Junho glanced once toward Hanna's room before nodding. Together, they walked toward the dining hall, leaving the quiet sound of clinking tea cups behind.
Taehyun entered first, his steps steady, eyes sweeping across the set table. Junho followed, his expression subdued. A few attendants in crisp uniforms stepped forward to pour tea and bow politely. One of the guards by the door stood tall, his gaze forward, silent but watchful.
Taehyun's brows furrowed slightly as his eyes moved around the room. In a quiet voice, he asked where their lady was. No answer came. The seat at the head of the table remained empty. Junho's gaze lingered there for a moment before shifting back to the table.
Maybe Seri was being treated by the doctor as well. Her wound had seemed deep. The thought made Junho's chest tighten, a quiet worry settling in the space between his ribs.
Kobayashi Gin stepped into the room, dressed neatly as always, the calmness on his face bordering on unreadable. A faint smirk curved his lips as his eyes moved between them. He remarked that perhaps she needed more rest than the others. Without waiting for a reply, he sat down across from them and poured himself tea, the motion as unhurried as if this were any other peaceful afternoon.
Taehyun's eyes stayed on him. Junho exchanged a glance with Taehyun, both unsettled though the atmosphere remained outwardly calm. Taehyun lowered his gaze in respect and addressed Kobayashi with quiet formality, receiving only a calm nod in return.
"Let's eat before the food gets cold," Taehyun said gently.
They lifted their chopsticks, the quiet clink of porcelain and soft rustle of fabric filling the air. The silence was deliberate, the kind that carried weight.
Junho, after a moment, cleared his throat and asked if there was something he needed to know. His voice was steady but edged with restrained tension.
Kobayashi didn't answer, only set his cup down with a controlled grace. Taehyun didn't look up as he told Junho not to talk while eating. When Junho blinked in surprise, Taehyun leaned slightly closer and explained in a low voice that it was an old rule from Iwao's order…meals were sacred, eaten in silence because they might be your last.
Junho nodded slowly, his chopsticks moving again. In his heart, he wondered if this was why Seri had always been so quiet at dinner.
The meal continued without words, the only sounds the faint rustle of chopsticks and the wind brushing softly against the shoji. When the plates were nearly empty, they leaned back in the quiet weight of both the meal and their thoughts.
Kobayashi drained the last of his tea before rising from his seat. "If there's anything that concerns you, find me in the garden," he said evenly. Adjusting his coat, he glanced toward the sliding doors. "I need to freshen up the sakaki grove. The leaves are restless today."
The sakaki tree (榊) was considered sacred in Japan, often planted around shrines and traditional homes. Within the Iwao compound, its presence was deliberate, symbol and tradition intertwined.
Junho's gaze lingered on Kobayashi Gin's retreating figure, then shifted to Taehyun across the table. There was something in the man's calm that didn't match the role he claimed.
"You seem… very close to her," Junho said at last, his voice quiet but edged with suspicion. "And you understand Japanese too well for someone from a holding company." He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "How can I trust you with this project, Taehyun-ssi?"
Taehyun didn't answer right away. The faint smile he'd worn faded not in offense, but in a way that hinted at deeper layers.
"You don't have to trust me," he replied, his tone cool, measured. "But you should trust that I'd protect her… even if it costs me the mission."
Junho's eyes sharpened. "…Are you something to her?"
Taehyun's faint smile returned, carrying more weight than warmth. "You haven't even begun to be alarmed about everything yet," he said. "I'll leave that for Seri to explain herself."
Pushing his chair back, he rose and stretched with lazy ease. "I'm off to take another nap. Holding a blade all night is… exhausting."
Junho watched his back as he walked away, the unease lingering like a shadow.
Explain what? he thought, frowning. Their history? Their bond? Are they… married? Engaged? Just how far does this go?
The polished wooden hallway of the Iwao compound was quiet enough to hear each shift of the air. Taehyun's steps slowed as he reached the plain sliding door to Seri's room. He stood there for a moment, one hand lifted, hesitation in his eyes.
He let out a faint breath. Should I…?
His knuckles tapped the wood—once, twice, three times. No answer. He slid the door open a fraction and called softly, "Seri-ssii… I'm coming in."
The room beyond was immaculate. The bed was neatly made, the blanket smooth, the pillow untouched. Hannachan sat silently at the edge of the frame, watchful as a sentinel. But there was no sign of Seri.
Taehyun stepped inside, brows drawing together. "So… she wasn't sleeping?" The thought slipped out in a quiet murmur. Concern creased his expression.
Outside, in the garden, a soft breeze stirred the stillness. The momiji leaves rustled overhead, the late afternoon sun spilling through in shifting bands of gold. Sakura petals drifted lazily down the stone path, coming to rest at the base of a sakaki tree—a sacred tree, Kobayashi had once said, planted only in homes that honored ancient bloodlines.
Kobayashi knelt beneath it, brushing moss from the roots with deliberate care. Behind him, quiet footsteps approached. He didn't turn.
"Still restless?" he asked.
Junho stopped a few paces behind, hands in his coat pockets. His gaze swept the calm garden before settling on Kobayashi's back. "You said I could ask… if I had concerns."
Kobayashi set the shears down beside a stone basin and finally turned to meet his eyes. "And now you do."
"I heard things," Junho said. "From Seri. From you. From what I saw… or didn't understand. Tell me the part that no one's saying."
Kobayashi's gaze held him for a moment, then he turned back to the tree, brushing away fallen leaves. "You can't force stillness," he said quietly. "It comes when the heart stops running."
Junho stepped closer, his voice low. "I couldn't sleep… not after everything. I needed answers."
"Everyone thinks answers bring clarity," Kobayashi replied. "But sometimes they only come after the storm has passed."
Junho folded his arms. "Then help me understand the storm. Seri…she's changed. You all act like she's someone else entirely. What is she to you? What is she to all this?"
Kobayashi rose to his feet, brushing his palms clean. "She's not someone else," he said. "She's just someone you haven't truly met yet."
He rested a hand on the trunk of the sakaki tree, his voice firm. "This tree is sacred… not just because it's old, but because it grew from blood and patience. Like her. Seri was raised in silence, trained in chaos, and shaped by betrayal. Yet she chose to protect, not destroy."
Only then did he look directly at Junho, the weight of his words settling between them like the still air before a storm.