"Your Highness, are you alright?"
Only a single night had passed, but when Tendō Kisara returned with Rentarō Satomi to see the Holy Child, her change was alarming.
In one night, she had grown frail, carrying the fragile beauty of an invalid.
Although she had always seemed melancholy of late, her sudden weakness startled them both.
"I'm fine, I just didn't rest well last night..."
She forced a faint smile onto her face.
"Today as well, I'll be relying on you for protection."
Since she began exposing the truth of the Cursed Children online, the Holy Child had known that Tendō Kikunojo would discover her actions.
When that happened, all pretense between them would be torn away.
And because she knew her original guard were all Kikunojo's people, she had replaced them early in preparation for this moment.
Her new temporary guards were Tendō Kisara and Rentarō Satomi.
The main reason she chose Kisara was simple.
Though still of high school age, she was the sword prodigy of the Tendō style, her actual strength extraordinary. More importantly, anyone else might yield to Kikunojo's threats or bribes—but not Kisara.
Though she was his granddaughter, her parents had been murdered by the family. She lived for revenge against both the clan and Kikunojo himself.
As for Rentarō, his strength as a mechanized soldier was more than enough for guard duty.
The only concern was his personality—too gentle, too indecisive.
"Do you have any plans today?" Kisara asked, stepping into her role as bodyguard.
"I'll likely go nowhere. I need to prepare my speech for the New Gastrea Law."
"You intend to push the New Gastrea Law at a time like this?"
Kisara's eyes widened, and Rentarō wore the same expression.
It was obvious that doing so now would only provoke the angry populace further. Tokyo was already in chaos, and she meant to fan the flames.
They could not understand why she would act this way… it didn't fit her nature.
"You oppose the New Gastrea Law, too?"
"Not exactly." Kisara shook her head. "Those children are innocent. They deserve care, compassion, and human rights. I only think the timing is poor..."
"Would you reconsider?" Rentarō asked hesitantly.
"I also think the timing is poor... but we no longer have time."
"Time?"
"It's nothing..."
The Holy Child chose not to mention the coming purge.
What good would telling them do, other than frighten them? Better that they keep their goodwill toward Kagutsuchi until the purge began—perhaps that goodwill could save them.
Unlike other regions, in Tokyo, because of her insistence, the truth of Kagutsuchi had not been hidden from the people.
Everyone knew of Kagutsuchi, knew she was exterminating the Gastrea.
Soon, humanity might return to its golden age, a world without Gastrea.
The Holy Child secluded herself in her chamber, intending not to leave until the day of her speech. She devoted unprecedented effort to this address—even more than when she first assumed her position.
Still, she did not ignore the world outside. She rushed forward so recklessly because she wished to save as many as possible, even one more life.
Albeit indeed, she had sown chaos. Though not yet riots, they were close, and without intervention, riots would erupt.
Riots, clashes, bloodshed. Innocents dragged in, fury directed at the children themselves.
Then, in trying to save, she would only harm more.
So she could not ignore the outside world. Even while preparing her speech, she ordered more resources to keep order—not to end the unrest, but at least to prevent bloodshed.
Now that Kikunojo had ceased interfering—convinced she would achieve nothing and be devoured by hatred—she had managed, for the moment, to maintain control.
However, just because Kikunojo did nothing did not mean others sat still. Foreign agents had already infiltrated Tokyo.
And manpower was limited, while her enemies were many.
By exposing the truth all other nations had hidden, she had made both Tokyo and herself a target, a thorn in every side.
Ten years of Tokyo's politics had been under Kikunojo's hand, and those years had hardened everyone. Even those who once bore no hostility to the children had been reshaped into their foes.
The people, brainwashed, blinded by hate, or guided by malice, had long buried their bias deep. Thus, the majority stood against her.
High ranks, commoners, outsiders—none stood with her.
She had power, but not nearly enough to fight the world alone.
"..."
On the day of the speech, just before stepping onto the stage, the Holy Child was overcome by a feeling.
She gazed at the furious crowd, at the ill-intentioned among them, and fell silent for a long time.
"Your Highness? It's time." Kisara reminded her.
"...Yes."
Her eyes did not move from the window, but a trace of serenity flickered there.
"Miss Kisara, Mr. Satomi, your duty ends here."
"...Why so suddenly?"
"..."
The Holy Child only shook her head softly, then turned toward the stage.
"From here on, whatever happens, do not intervene. That is my final order as your client."
...
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