In the depths of the Southern District, a man sat alone in a secluded room where the sharp scent of brewing herbs mingled with the crackling of a wood fire, the chimney releasing a thin stream of smoke into the clear night sky.
"You've arrived," the figure remarked, not lifting his gaze.
"Oh?" Raikynn responded, continuing his stride without hesitation. "Did you foresee my arrival?"
The Minister finally looked up. He recalled vividly the first time he saw Raikynn in the throne room. The speed had been astonishing—so swift that others lost sight of the blade—but the Minister's eyes tracked every motion, from how Raikynn encircled the Princess to how he cut down the assassins before they could even raise their guards. Yet, what impressed him most was not the violence, but the kneel. While others saw a knight pledging service to a princess, the Minister saw right through the performance to the truth beneath: pure professionalism.
"The man I observed in the throne room," the Minister said, "is one who goes wherever he pleases."
Raikynn allowed a subtle smile to play on his lips as he entered the inner quarters, his gaze immediately falling on the low table where a steaming pot of tea and an extra cup awaited, confirming that his arrival had indeed been foreseen.
"Please," the Minister said, gesturing to the cushion opposite him.
Raikynn settled himself cross-legged across from his host. As the tea was poured, Raikynn surveyed the room, surprised to find it lacking the grandeur typical of high office; it resembled a modest commoner's abode rather than the domain of a man orchestrating a coup.
"Not what you expected?" the Minister inquired, noticing Raikynn's wandering gaze.
"I assumed a man orchestrating assassinations would appear less..."
"—Refined?"
"Precisely."
The Prime Minister emitted a dry chuckle and slid the cup across the table. Raikynn drank promptly, cleansing his palate from the dust of a journey fraught with logistical nightmares. He had executed a complex stealth operation to keep his presence hidden from the Princess and avoid any suspicion of collusion, yet looking at the unpretentious setting and the open door before him, he realized the subterfuge had been a waste of time; he could have simply walked in through the front door.
"Since you aren't here to kill me, what is your purpose, Assassin?"
"How do you know I'm not here to kill you?"
"Would I have been able to pour the tea if you were?"
"Touché," Raikynn conceded. "I assume the Guildmaster informed you of my arrival in the capital?"
The Prime Minister nodded, rising to approach an easel concealed by a heavy cloth. He unveiled it in one swift motion to reveal a map of the entire continent. However, what caught Raikynn's attention wasn't the borders of the ongoing war, but the markers pinned to the poorest districts—places where affording an assassination contract would require an entire village to starve just to pay the deposit.
"What is your opinion of this world?" the Minister asked.
Given the context of the map, it was not a straightforward question. Raikynn leaned back, offering the only answer his life had taught him. "The strong prosper, while the weak can only look up."
"And have you ever considered," the Minister asked, his voice deepening, "bridging that gap?"
Raikynn emitted a harsh, dry laugh. "Prime Minister, have you forgotten my profession? In times of chaos, I rise to the very top of the hierarchy."
"So you do not wish to abolish that hierarchy?"
"What reason would I have to?"
"Do you not get tired of killing?"
"Without the killing, what is left to an assassin?"
"Peace."
The word hung in the air, heavy and foreign.
"And I presume," Raikynn said, his voice lowering, "that to get that 'peace'... the Princess must die?"
"Naturally."
The Prime Minister responded without a moment's pause, fully aware that the Guild never reneged on a contract once finalized. Either he believed he could sway Raikynn by the end of the meeting, or his ambition had driven him to desperation, knowing no one else could outmaneuver the Guild's finest blade.
"In other words, I am the villain in your story?" Raikynn asked.
The Minister took a deep breath. "Killing her was not my first option. I tried to reason with her father, yet he would not relent. What choice would you make then, Assassin?"
"I do not care who rules the world," Raikynn stated flatly. "If you wanted her dead, I would have taken the contract... but inevitability has led us to walk on two different paths."
"So you really will not help me?"
"Five years," Raikynn said, standing up. "After she becomes Queen and fulfills her end of the contract... naturally, if you offer enough coin, my blade will aim at whichever throat you wish."
---
[Manami's Perspective]
With Manami's chamber door reduced to splintered kindling, the sisters had retreated to Kanna's quarters. Manami explained the situation, carefully omitting Raikynn's more lecherous behaviors, yet shared every other grim detail. Judging by their expressions, however, the sisters remained deeply skeptical.
"If—and I stress the if—Concubine Ririko truly knew him," Kanna began, her voice sharp with doubt, "who is to say he is on your side now?"
"Agreed." Rika nodded, her hand resting habitually near her weapon—a reflex honed during her deployment. "When I was stationed at the Border, I saw countless men pledge their undying allegiance to the Kingdom, only for their loyalty to crumble the moment the first arrow flew. War is the ultimate test, and few pass it."
"Just like the Palace," Kanna murmured. "Allegiances here rot faster than fruit."
"We also have to consider his raw talent," Rika added, her expression darkening as she recalled the earlier confrontation.
She had been tasked with securing the perimeter, employing the Royal Stealth Technique—footwork so silent it could fool the elite palace guard. Yet, the moment she had even approached the threshold of Manami's room, she hadn't just been detected; she had been countered. He had heard the silence itself.
"I moved without sound," Rika admitted, "yet he had a blade inches from my skull before I could draw breath. He is no ordinary mercenary. He is a predator."
More than you realize, sister... more than you realize, Manami thought, forcefully pushing away the image of him eyeing her personal belongings like a common thief. She offered a small, weary smile in response to their genuine concern.
"I understand your fears, sisters. But if there is even the slightest chance I can uncover the truth behind Mother's death, I must pursue it, regardless of his true intentions."
"And what if he simply refuses to hand over the scroll when the time comes?" Kanna pressed, her analytical mind pinpointing the crux of the issue. "Given his strength, how do you plan to compel him?"
"I... I haven't thought that far."
A heavy silence descended upon them, burdened with the frustration of royalty confronting an uncontrollable variable. They were accustomed to commanding the world, yet Raikynn was a storm that defied decree. Kanna unclenched her fist, realizing that Manami needed her intellect more than her judgment, and set aside her pity to focus on strategy.
"Considering his abrupt departure, he cares nothing for protocol or our titles," Kanna mused. "That leaves you as the only one who can get close to him."
"Close to him?"
"Correct," Rika interjected, her voice taking on the cadence of a lesson learned in the wild. "Every predator has a weakness. When Father took me hunting, he always taught me to ignore the teeth and watch the habits. If you understand the habit, the arrow will find its own path."
Manami nodded slowly. He was still a man; he bled, he ate, and he clearly enjoyed earthly pleasures. If she could discover his habit, she would have the leverage to negotiate when the time was right.
"Thank you, sisters."
Rika smiled, but Kanna's frown deepened. "However," the strategist added, her voice dropping to a whisper, "there is one possibility you must not overlook."
"And that is?"
"He might not just be a mercenary," Kanna warned. "He might be the true mastermind."
"But he already had the opportunity to kill me," Manami argued, shaking her head. "Besides, I have nothing to offer a man like that."
"Oh, but you do, sister," Kanna replied, her gaze shifting meaningfully to the tall mirror behind Manami.
Manami turned to follow her sister's eyes and saw her reflection, still clad in the torn, crimson remnants of her coronation silk. The image in the glass stared back at her—a porcelain doll enveloped in the trappings of empire.
"Right," she whispered, the realization settling coldly in her stomach. "I am to be Queen, aren't I?"
In the midst of the chaos from the assassination attempt and the rogue's arrival, she had completely forgotten the fundamental truth of her existence: once she turned twenty-one, she would wield the realm's absolute power. However, she also understood that such power attracted those who sought to use it for their own purposes, and often, the daggers held by those closest to you struck far more swiftly than the swords of distant enemies.
Kanna observed Manami's reflection in the window, noticing the deep contemplation that seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders. Rising from her seat, she disregarded Rika's confused look and moved forward to embrace her younger sister. Manami flinched initially, only relaxing when her mind returned to the present, allowing her to feel the embrace.
"Sister...?"
"You survived your first assassination attempt," Kanna declared, her voice both firm and gentle. "Now, no one can deny that you are truly part of this family."
"Yeah!" Rika exclaimed.
She abandoned her weapon with alarming nonchalance and charged across the room, leaping onto them in a move that was part-hug, part-assault.
"Rika!"
"You're too heavy!"
"No, I'm not!"
---
Meanwhile, as laughter and playful arguing filled the warmth of Kanna's chambers, Raikynn sat silently on the stone ledge outside the window. He had arrived mere moments ago, yet remained still, resembling a sentinel watching over his charge.
But looks could be deceiving. He wasn't listening to the girls. He was attuned to the wind.
"If you continue hiding," he murmured into the empty darkness, his hand drifting towards his sword hilt, "I might mistake you for an enemy."