Love in castles is rarely pure.
It arrives in scrolls sealed with wax.
In gifts wrapped with threats.
And sometimes... in the silence between two people who remember a kiss too vividly.
⸻
I sat upright at the dining hall, picking at my breakfast rice.
A tray of gifts was beside me—
Silks. Pearls. Poems.
And scrolls.
Dozens of them.
All sealed.
All from suitors.
"How many today?" I asked the attendant.
"Fifteen," she replied softly. "Three from Takeda, two from Uesugi, and one... from the Yagyū clan. Delivered personally."
I glanced at the last scroll.
Black ribbon. Crimson wax.
The family crest of assassins.
⸻
Dōsan arrived, all smiles.
He didn't even bother hiding the amusement in his eyes.
"I see the flowers bloomed quickly this spring," he said.
"They're weeds," I muttered, trying to disappear into the floor.
"Oh?" He raised a brow. "Then why are your cheeks still red?"
I shot him a look.
Sharp.
Warning.
Begging for mercy.
He only laughed and sat beside me, waving the attendants away like he had all the time in the world for one flustered girl and her emotional downfall.
"Don't worry," he said easily, "I won't ask who he is."
"Good."
So good.
Because if he did ask, I might actually burst into flames.
"But I will say this."
He leaned a little closer, his tone suddenly quieter, deeper.
"If he thinks last night went unnoticed, he's mistaken."
His eyes twinkled.
"The chimes only ring when fate stirs, Helena."
My stomach flipped.
The chimes.
Of course they'd ring.
Why wouldn't they ring?
Because it was just my luck to be kissed for the first time in my life (I think), freeze like a malfunctioning broomstick, and then alert the entire universe with magical wind chimes.
I covered my face with both hands and groaned.
So much shame.
So much internal screaming.
Dōsan chuckled again.
That kind of fatherly laugh that somehow made it all worse and better at the same time.
"Do you always break down over one kiss?" he teased.
"I didn't break down," I lied into my palms.
He smiled, eyes softening.
"You like him."
I peeked through my fingers. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me, yes. But don't worry. I've lived long enough to see worse disasters."
I let my hands fall to my lap. "That's not reassuring."
He gave a thoughtful hum. "You'll be fine. Besides... a girl should remember her first kiss, even if it came with chimes and chaos."
I laughed in spite of myself.
And for a moment, just a moment—
I wished he really was my father.
Because talking to Dōsan didn't feel like politics or rank.
It felt like safety.
Like being seen and not judged.
Like being cared for.
I could almost feel it, that wherever I came from?
I didn't get that very often.
I looked away.
Outside, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.
Beautiful, fragile... and temporary.
⸻
That afternoon, a white box arrived.
No seal. No note.
I opened it.
Inside:
A single camellia.
And beneath it—
A blade.
⸻
🌸 Later That Night: The Moon Room
I sat with Dōsan in the Moon Room, where only truth was spoken.
The doors were shut. Incense burned softly.
"They've made their move," I said, setting the box before him.
He inspected it calmly.
"The Yagyū never waste time. If they want you dead, it means they fear who you might marry."
"Then let's tell them I plan to marry no one."
"You can't. Not now."
"Why not?"
He unrolled one of the sealed scrolls.
The paper unfurled like a curse.
It was signed by Oda Nobunaga.
⸻
My blood ran cold.
"Nobunaga..."
At the mention of his name, something in my brain snapped open.
A name that sounded like a legend—
but why did it feel like a memory?
Words.
Dates.
Timelines.
Battles.
Betrayals.
They hit me like a flood.
Like I'd read about him in a book once.
A book tucked into a library corner—
A library.
Air-conditioned. Dusty.
Quiet, sterile, full of metal shelves and fluorescent lights.
A place that did not belong in this world.
But I could see it.
I could see myself in it.
Turning pages. Holding a highlighter. Drinking something cold.
Reading his name.
And I could feel it, too.
The odd mix of fascination and dread.
How powerful he was.
How violent.
How clever.
How untouchable.
It was like remembering someone I never met...
but somehow feared.
Dōsan gave me a sidelong glance, watching me carefully.
"He heard about your dance," he said slowly.
"He heard the rumors. And now he wants to see you in person.
Not just as a guest... but as a bride."
⸻
🌒 Another Night That Felt Too Unreal
I returned to my quarters that night, holding the scroll Nobunaga sent.
Unopened.
Unread.
But I already knew what it meant.
My fingers clenched the paper, knuckles pale.
Earlier that day, I had received a gift.
A blade.
At first, I thought it was a gesture of honor.
Something symbolic.
Beautiful. Intricate. Almost ceremonial.
But now, it felt like a message.
A whisper in steel.
If you step out of line, die beautifully.
I sat down in front of the brazier, the firelight dancing on the scroll in my hands.
If there was one thing I could admit now—
it was that I probably didn't belong to this world.
Not truly.
But I also didn't belong to the other one anymore.
And with that truth finally rising like smoke in my chest...
What was I supposed to do?
Marry a man I once feared from the pages of a book?
Smile in front of men who would kill me the moment I changed the script?
I wasn't just here to protect history anymore.
I had just become part of it.
And someone was sharpening a blade
to make sure I didn't live long enough
to rewrite the ending.