For exactly three days, nothing happened.
No council summons.
No political attacks.
No surprise visits.
No silver-haired omega appearing to destroy my peace.
Nothing.
And honestly?
That was suspicious.
Very suspicious.
I sat in the garden with a book balanced on my lap, staring at the same page for nearly ten minutes.
I hadn't read a single word.
Because I was busy waiting for disaster.
"You've turned that page six times."
I looked up.
Kairo stood nearby, hands in his pockets.
Calm.
Relaxed.
Annoyingly relaxed.
"How do you know that?"
"I've been watching."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't intended to be."
I sighed.
Typical.
Three days after our confession, and somehow Kairo was exactly the same.
Not colder.
Not warmer.
Just...
Kairo.
The only difference was that he now looked at me like he no longer had to pretend not to.
Which was its own problem.
"Something is going to happen."
"No."
I narrowed my eyes.
"The last time you said that, three council members showed up."
"They were already scheduled."
"That doesn't help."
"It wasn't supposed to."
I dropped the book onto the table.
"You're impossible."
"No."
At this point, arguing with him was basically tradition.
The afternoon breeze moved gently through the gardens.
Flowers swayed.
Birds chirped.
Everything looked peaceful.
Which was exactly why I didn't trust it.
The council wasn't the type to simply give up.
Especially after Kairo openly challenged them.
And that thought led to another one.
One I hadn't wanted to think about.
"Kairo."
"Yes."
I hesitated.
Then asked anyway.
"How much power do you actually have?"
Silence.
Immediately suspicious.
"That pause concerns me."
"It should."
I stared.
"Kairo."
He looked at me.
And for once—
he actually seemed uncertain about how to answer.
That was rare enough to make me sit up.
"What?"
A pause.
Then—
"Enough."
I blinked.
"...That's not an answer."
"It is."
"No, it's not."
"Yes."
"Kairo."
He sighed quietly.
The sound alone told me I wasn't going to like whatever came next.
"The council exists because powerful families agreed to cooperate."
"Okay."
"They maintain balance."
"Still okay."
"They require support."
I frowned.
Then understanding slowly dawned.
"...Wait."
Silence.
"Kairo."
A pause.
Then—
"My family provides nearly forty percent of their resources."
I stared.
The world stopped.
Birds stopped singing.
Time stopped moving.
My brain stopped functioning.
"...Forty."
"Yes."
"Percent."
"Yes."
I pointed at him.
"You threatened to leave."
"Yes."
"You threatened to remove forty percent of their support."
"Yes."
I stood up.
Immediately.
"No."
Kairo blinked.
"No?"
"No."
"That isn't a response."
"It is now."
I began pacing.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
That wasn't influence.
That wasn't authority.
That wasn't political leverage.
That was economic warfare.
"You didn't tell me this."
"You didn't ask."
"I shouldn't have to ask if you're secretly one of the most powerful people in the world."
"That's subjective."
I stopped walking.
Slowly turned.
"Subjective?"
"Yes."
"Kairo."
"Yes."
"Sometimes I worry about you."
His expression remained completely serious.
"Why?"
"Because you say things like that."
Silence.
Then—
a tiny smile.
Victory.
I pointed immediately.
"There."
"There what?"
"That."
"I don't know what you're referring to."
"Liar."
The smile disappeared.
Unfortunately.
I was beginning to understand why seeing him smile felt so rewarding.
It happened so rarely that every occasion felt significant.
The realization made me pause.
Then immediately regret pausing.
Because Kairo noticed.
Again.
"You were thinking about it."
"No."
"You were."
"No."
"You like it."
I covered my face.
This was exactly why having a mind-reading boyfriend was unfair.
Completely unfair.
There should be rules.
Regulations.
Government oversight.
Something.
Before I could respond, footsteps approached.
Fast.
Urgent.
The sound immediately changed the atmosphere.
Both of us looked up.
One of the household attendants hurried across the garden.
Pale.
Out of breath.
Concerned.
Very concerned.
And suddenly, every instinct I had screamed warning.
The attendant stopped several feet away and bowed.
"Kairo."
The attendant's voice shook.
That alone told me something was wrong.
"What happened?" Kairo asked.
The attendant swallowed.
Then answered.
"The southern territories have declared separation."
Silence.
The world froze.
Even I knew enough to understand that wasn't normal.
The attendant continued.
"They've publicly announced their withdrawal from council authority."
My stomach dropped.
The attendant looked increasingly nervous.
"And they're demanding your support."
The garden became completely silent.
No birds.
No breeze.
Nothing.
Just stillness.
I slowly turned toward Kairo.
His expression hadn't changed.
Not even slightly.
Which somehow worried me more.
"What does that mean?" I asked quietly.
The attendant looked hesitant.
Kairo answered first.
"It means someone is forcing a confrontation."
The words settled heavily between us.
Not because they were dramatic.
Because they were calm.
Too calm.
Dangerously calm.
The attendant bowed again.
"There are more reports arriving."
"Continue monitoring."
"Yes, sir."
Then the attendant left.
The moment he disappeared, the garden felt different.
The peace was gone.
Not broken.
Gone.
Replaced by something sharper.
Something larger.
Something that felt like the beginning of a much bigger problem.
I looked at Kairo.
"...This isn't about territory."
"No."
"It's about you."
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Like he had already known.
The realization sent a chill down my spine.
Someone wasn't attacking the council.
Someone was attacking Kairo.
Indirectly.
Strategically.
Carefully.
And if that was true—
then this wasn't politics anymore.
It was war.
The silence stretched.
Then I asked the question that mattered most.
"Who's behind it?"
For the first time all afternoon—
Kairo's expression darkened.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Enough to tell me he already had a suspicion.
And whatever that suspicion was—
I wasn't going to like it.
"No," he said quietly.
I frowned.
"No what?"
His eyes shifted toward the horizon.
Toward distant lands I couldn't see.
Toward a problem already moving.
"No," he repeated.
"Because if I'm right..."
The air itself seemed to grow colder.
Then Kairo finished the sentence.
this is only the beginning."
And suddenly—
the peaceful days felt very far away.