Tokyo, Minato Ward.
An informal cocktail reception celebrating the smooth passage of a certain economic bill was being held in the top-floor banquet hall of a premier hotel.
Every guest in attendance was a heavyweight in Japan's political and business circles, the kind whose stamp of a foot could trigger an earthquake.
The crystal chandeliers blazed with dazzling light. Amid the rustle of silk and the flash of jewelry, glasses clinked in endless toasts.
Every face wore a smiling mask calibrated to perfection, the most elegant phrases being used to conduct the most naked exchanges of interest.
Councilman Iino stood in an inconspicuous corner of the banquet hall, a champagne flute in his hand.
But his gaze, sharp as a falcon's, was locked firmly on the center of the room.
There, two men were standing.
Seiji Fujiwara, and... the current head of the Shinomiya conglomerate, Gan'an Shinomiya.
That old man, famed in Japan's business world for his ruthless methods and cold-blooded temperament, was at this moment bowing his body ever so slightly.
The smile on his face was so humble it bordered on fawning, like a butler reporting in to his master.
And the young man across from him, Seiji Fujiwara, was simply leaning lazily against a Roman column, not even holding a wine glass.
One hand stuffed into his trouser pocket, he occasionally listened to Gan'an Shinomiya's report and gave a noncommittal nod.
The posture was casual. You could even call it arrogant.
And yet it carried a certain matter-of-fact dominance.
All around them, the councilmen and company presidents who normally looked down their noses at the world, not one of them dared step forward to make conversation. They could only watch from a distance, their eyes filled with awe and fear.
As though the space those two men occupied was a world unto itself.
Councilman Iino drained the champagne in his glass in a single swallow.
The cold liquid slid down his throat into his stomach, but it could not extinguish the fire in his heart, the flame named "ambition" that burned hotter and hotter.
He saw more clearly than anyone present.
The traditional rules of political maneuvering had ceased to function.
Those power networks built upon factions, seniority, and connections were as fragile as a spider's web before the man named Seiji Fujiwara.
He was the true, hidden-behind-the-curtain... "Emperor."
The only player who could set the rules of the game at will, and just as easily flip the board over.
To survive in this new game whose rules had been thoroughly rewritten, and to climb higher within it, one had to earn his approval.
One had to offer him loyalty.
A flash of mad resolve passed through Councilman Iino's eyes.
He knew that ordinary political donations or intelligence exchanges could never move an existence at that level.
He had to offer a one-of-a-kind "pledge of loyalty."
A sacrifice that would bind the surname "Iino" tightly, inseparably, to that supreme symbol of power, "Fujiwara."
He had made his decision.
A mad decision, one weighty enough to push his own daughter's life into the abyss.
...
...
Seiji Fujiwara's residence.
Having just concluded a thoroughly satisfying "morning workout," Seiji was leaning against the headboard, enjoying Saeko Busujima kneeling by the bedside, meticulously massaging his shoulders.
His private phone gave a soft chime.
It was today's visitor appointment list, sent by his chief secretary.
He glanced down at it idly.
His eyes paused for a moment on a single name.
"Councilman Iino..."
He murmured the name under his breath.
A thought stirred.
[Eye of Odin], activated.
In an instant, a vast torrent of information unfolded before his eyes.
Everything about this Councilman Iino, his career history, his political factions, his hidden assets, his political stance, and so on...
The corners of Seiji's mouth curled into an amused arc.
He "saw" it.
He saw the man's heart, packed to bursting with ambition.
Truly... textbook politician thinking.
Seiji let out a soft laugh.
He had never had much interest in this kind of hypocrisy.
But what did interest him was the "pledge of loyalty" this man was preparing to offer.
His daughter.
Miko Iino.
That girl, famous at Shuchiin Academy under the title of "Public Morals Committee President." An idealist who had carved the word "justice" into her bones, who hated evil with a passion bordering on obsession.
A hypocritical father, and a pure-hearted daughter...
Seiji closed his eyes. A wonderfully amusing picture had already begun forming in his mind.
He really wanted to see it.
When this girl, brimming with righteousness, discovered that everything she believed in had been personally smashed apart by the father she most respected, then packaged up as a gift and offered to the very "villain" she most despised...
What kind of fascinating expression would surface on her face?
"Saeko."
He opened his eyes and gave an order to the woman behind him.
"Reply to him."
"Tonight at eight. I'll give him half an hour."
...
...
Shuchiin Academy, Student Council Room.
"I do not agree!"
Miko Iino slammed a document down on the desk with a resounding crack.
Her face was flushed red as she glared at Chika Fujiwara, who sat across from her.
"To relax the restrictions on the length of student uniform skirts, simply because it 'might' affect the 'mood' of some students, is a desecration of school regulations! A trampling on public morals!"
Her petite frame seemed to contain an inexhaustible reservoir of energy.
In those wide eyes burned a flame called "justice."
Chika Fujiwara, startled by the shouting, puffed up her cheeks in turn and shot back, unwilling to be outdone, "What do you mean desecration?! Miko, you take everything too seriously! It's a girl's nature to want to look pretty. The skirt being a tiny bit shorter isn't going to hurt anything! That black-and-white thinking of yours is positively ancient!"
"Rules are rules! Black is black and white is white! There are no gray areas!" Miko Iino refused to give an inch.
"You..."
It was clear that another "world war" was about to erupt between the two secretaries in the Student Council Room.
Sitting off to one side, Kobachi Osaragi let out a helpless sigh.
She set down the book in her hand, walked over to Miko Iino's side, and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.
"Miko, calm down. Chika is only making a suggestion. We can all discuss it slowly."
Her voice was soft, like a clear breeze, just barely dispersing some of the gunpowder tension in the room.
Miko Iino took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling violently.
She knew her emotions had run hot, but she simply could not tolerate any challenge to the "justice" in her heart.
Kobachi Osaragi looked at her best friend, at that face perpetually drawn tight as if ready to take on the entire world, and felt a deep worry well up inside her.
Miko's sense of justice was her most precious quality.
But that justice was too pure. Too rigid.
Like a sharp sword without a sheath.
It cut others, and it cut its wielder just as easily.
Kobachi Osaragi worried that one day, this overly sharp sword of hers would crash into a dark wall from the adult world.
And when that happened...
She would shatter.
...
...
Night fell.
A black Toyota Century, bearing special license plates, drove steadily along the road toward Minato Ward.
Inside, Miko Iino sat bolt upright.
She wore a brand-new Shuchiin uniform, ironed without a single wrinkle. A folder was clutched tightly in her arms.
On her face was a barely concealed excitement, mixed with nerves.
That very afternoon, her father had suddenly returned home and, with a gravity she had never heard from him before, told her:
"Miko, tonight I'm taking you to meet a great man, one who can truly help us realize our ideals."
"A great figure who can actually push through those proposals about 'justice' that you hold in your heart."
Miko's heart had been set alight in that instant.
She had always taken pride in her father.
She believed her father was the very embodiment of justice, a defender of the nation's laws.
And anyone he would call a "great man" had to be... a respected political elder of impeccable character and pristine integrity!
A true fellow traveler, someone who could understand her proposals about "strengthening the legal aid system for adolescents"!
For this reason, she had locked herself in her room all afternoon, revising her proposal again and again, striving to make every word brim with power and logic, hoping to earn the appreciation of this "great man."
"Father, who is this senpai we are visiting tonight?" Unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked.
From the driver's side, Councilman Iino looked through the rearview mirror at his daughter's face, glowing with anticipation and idealism.
A faint, imperceptible pang shot through his heart.
But it was quickly covered over by a firmer resolve.
He gave a gentle smile.
"You'll find out when we arrive, Miko."
"This will be an important turning point in your life."
The car slowly drove into a district enclosed by high walls and dense groves.
This was Tokyo's most exclusive enclave for the wealthy.
Every inch of land here was more expensive than gold.
At last, the car came to a halt before the gates of an estate as grand as some medieval castle.
Two enormous iron gates, carved with intricate patterns, slid soundlessly aside as they approached, like the slowly opening maw of some great beast.
Miko stared out the window at the excessively lavish scene, and a hint of confusion stirred in her heart.
In her imagination, the home of a "political elder" should be a dignified, austere, perhaps even somewhat plain Japanese-style residence.
Not something like this... a palace soaked through with money and decadence.
"Father, this place is..."
"Don't speak, Miko." Councilman Iino cut her off. "Remember, in a moment, no matter what you see or hear, you must remain absolutely polite."
His tone was more solemn than she had ever known it to be.
The confusion in Miko's heart deepened, but out of the trust she had long held in her father, she still nodded.
The car crossed the vast courtyard.
Eventually, it stopped before the soaring portico of the main residence, an archway like the vaulted dome of a cathedral.
A woman in a head maid's uniform was already waiting there.
She opened the car door for Councilman Iino.
"Mr. Iino, the master has been waiting for you a long while."
Councilman Iino hurriedly stepped out of the car. With a humble smile on his face, he bowed slightly to the head maid.
That small detail made Miko's pupils contract slightly as she stepped out of the car.
Her father, a high-ranking cabinet official, would actually perform such a deep gesture of respect to a maid?
The unease in her heart began to spread like a creeping vine, growing wild.
"And this would be Miss Miko, I take it?"
The head maid's gaze fell upon Miko.
Those eyes were calm, yet they cut through her like an X-ray, with the penetrating quality of someone appraising an object.
"Very cute."
She offered the dry assessment, then turned around.
"This way, please, both of you."
Miko followed behind her father, walking into the residence.
The moment she stepped inside, the sight before her stunned her utterly.
Cold, smooth marble floors. A crystal chandelier larger than the living room of her own home hung from the soaring vaulted ceiling.
The walls were lined with priceless paintings she had only ever seen in art museums.
The air carried a refined yet decadent incense, completely unfamiliar to her.
This place did not feel like anyone's home.
It was more like... a king's palace.
She trailed behind her father down a long corridor.
Every few paces along both sides of the corridor stood a young girl in a maid's outfit. They kept their heads lowered, their expressions reverent.
As they passed a parlor whose door stood half-open, Miko's footsteps came to an instinctive stop.
She had seen something.
She saw a girl in a white cotton dress, kneeling on the carpet, presenting a cup of tea to a purple-haired woman dressed in kendo attire.
The girl in the dress, Miko recognized her.
It was the younger sister famed at Shuchiin Junior High for her outstanding grades and steely character... Kei Shirogane!
But where was the steel in her face now? Not a trace of it remained.
Her eyes were hollow. Her movements, mechanical.
The way she presented the tea was as humble as a well-trained slave.
Miko's heart plunged.
What on earth... was going on here?
She wanted to open her mouth and ask, but the sight of her father's tense back, not daring to relax for even a moment, forced the words she had been about to speak back down her throat.
After the corridor, the head maid led them to an enormous door, carved from a single piece of oak.
"The master is inside."
After saying this, the head maid stepped to the side and said nothing more.
Councilman Iino drew in a deep breath, adjusted his necktie, and then, with great care, pushed open that heavy door.
In the study, only a single dim floor lamp was lit.
Most of the space was shrouded in shadow.
A young man stood with his back to them in front of the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, looking down over the brilliant river of stars that was the Tokyo night.
He was wearing only a black silk robe, the sash tied loosely, revealing the sculpted lines of the muscles of his back.
In his hand, he gently swirled half a glass of red wine.
The crimson liquid left ambiguous traces clinging to the walls of the glass.
He did not turn around at the sound of the door opening.
He simply spoke in a lazy voice, tinged with amusement.
"You're here?"
This voice...
So young!
Miko was completely stunned.
The respected political elder she had imagined had not appeared at all.
The one before her was a young man who looked barely a few years older than herself!
And yet her father, Councilman Iino, the moment he heard this voice, immediately bowed.
The posture was humble, almost to the point of grovelling.
"Mr. Fujiwara! Good evening!"
"Forgive the imposition of this visit, my deepest apologies!"
Mr... Fujiwara?
That surname struck Miko like a bolt of lightning splitting her skull open!
Slow as she was, she finally understood what kind of place she had been brought to tonight!
This was no political elder's home!
This was...
The lair of the demon spoken of at school in tones of legend, the one who, through brute, unreasonable methods, held the fates of countless people in his grasp!
"Father! You..."
Miko Iino looked at her father in disbelief, her voice filled with horror and fury.
But her father did not even dare to turn his head.
He only spoke to the back of that young man in a voice that was nearly pleading.
"Mr. Fujiwara, this is my daughter, Miko."
"From this day forward..."
Councilman Iino closed his eyes, and as though gathering every last ounce of strength in his body, he spoke the words that would push his own daughter completely into the abyss.
"...she is yours."