[End of Flashback]
Back in the present—
Bài Qíyuè did not realize when she had already settled into her reserved throne beside Kuradome. She had been far too lost in her memories, drowning in the waves of a bittersweet past. Now the sound of guqin strings and the echo of guards' footsteps in parade formation brought her back to reality.
Though her memories had felt endless, in truth only a few seconds had passed.
She sighed softly, trying to steady her expression. Nostalgia still surged within her chest, sharp and tender at once, but as the ruler she had become, she could not allow the past to consume her.
Beside her, Kuradome—the shadow clone Kuradome—turned his flawless face gently toward her. His expression was as always, perfect and unreadable, yet something faint, almost tender, lingered in his silver eyes. Those eyes, glitching faintly beneath the veil of silver fabric, seemed to be searching hers… as if he were trying to understand her heart.
It was strange. Shadows were never meant to hold such warmth.
Being born from yokai essence, he should have been an empty vessel: capable only of opposite actions, meant for harm, incapable of real emotion. Yet, before her now, he felt more human than the true Kuradome had ever allowed himself to be. For a moment, he seemed not threatening at all—at least, not yet.
"Are you alright?"
His voice was unexpectedly gentle. Tilting his head slightly, the silver veil over his crown shifted with the wind, brushing faintly against his cheek.
Bài Qíyuè blinked, startled by his sudden out-of-character tone. Confused, touched, and yet unwilling to let her composure falter, she nodded softly. In the present, she was a cold, Gothic ruler, her heart armored in iron. But whenever it was Kuradome who spoke to her—whether shadow or not—her defenses always threatened to melt.
She gave him the faintest of smiles. He, almost imperceptibly, smiled back. And in that fleeting exchange, the memory of a pinky promise and a weak smile in an emergency chamber years ago resurfaced painfully. To bury the rising tide of nostalgia, she shifted her gaze toward the parade unfolding before her. Kuradome's silver eyes turned away as well.
Across the seats, Yurei observed their soft, wordless exchange. The atmosphere felt different from before. Their earlier interaction had been laced with playful tension, but this—this felt strangely tragic, as though the silence carried a story of its own. His fox ears twitched thoughtfully. With a quiet sigh, he murmured:
"Time changes… people change… His Highness may really have moved on. That's all. Nothing else is wrong."
He cast a sidelong glance at Kyoren, seated beside him. Kyoren, the most emotionless of them all, looked forward with the same cold stubbornness as always. While kyoren wasn't less stubborn and noisy then kyoren yet today Kyoren remained still, unnerving in his silence. After all, he was no true shadow of himself but a construct of Kuradome's imagination, a being both present and off, his aura unsettlingly distant.
When Yurei offered him a polite, awkward smile, Kyoren merely returned an expressionless stare, making Yurei cough and turn back to the parade, unsettled. Something felt strange in the air, but now was not the time to unravel it.
Meanwhile, Sozai was reveling in the moment more than anyone else. Standing tall, flag in hand, he marched forward with sharp precision, each echo of his boots crisp against the ground. For once, there was no mischief in him—only focus and determination.
His voice thundered across the field:
"Attention! Turn left! Turn right! Forward—march! Left, right, left… left, right, left! Stop! Salute the Crown Ribbon of Kazomaki!"
Every command was sharp, his tone loud and clear, his green eyes burning with conviction.
Saimei, leading his line, found himself glancing at Sozai repeatedly, secretly impressed. He had never expected the wildcat to carry such gravitas—not when he had been chastised for something as trivial as a wrong uniform earlier.
"…Impressive," Saimei whispered under his breath.
Among the ranks, guards who knew Sozai exchanged whispers, pride glinting in their eyes. Their once "uselessly annoying" friend had revealed himself as dangerously capable.
Even Ennagiri smirked faintly, his amusement evident.
As tradition dictated, the parade would be followed by the serving of Jiǔ Chén (酒尘)—"Wine Dust," a rare blend of rose and lemon wine offered only once a year to the royal guards. The air was thick with ceremony, pride, and reverence.
Yurei's fox ears, which had been lowered, suddenly flicked upright. He hadn't expected Sozai to command so flawlessly—better, even, than some of the major guards. Shock and jealousy warred within him as he realized how naturally Sozai drew others' obedience.
A low growl slipped from his throat before he exhaled, forcing down the irritation. His ears lowered again, this time not in defeat, but in frustrated amusement.
"That wild cat… he's not just running anymore—he's flying. And here I thought he was joking about earning the place beside Kuradome-sama."
He muttered into his palm, elbow resting against his throne. But when Sozai subconsciously turned his head, black ponytail swaying, crimson robe flowing—Yurei froze.
That robe, once his own, clung perfectly to Sozai's frame, accentuating a sharp waist Yurei had never noticed before. In that moment, Sozai looked less like a mischievous guard and more like an immortal warrior stepped out of the kingdom's ancient history.
Time seemed to slow. Yurei's breath caught. His heart stumbled—was it embarrassment? Or… something else he dared not name? His face grew hot.
Quickly, he looked away, covering half his face with his hand, desperate to hide the faint flush.
Sozai's lips curved faintly. He always did enjoy unsettling Yurei.
Yet his eyes, sharp and gray, soon drifted toward Kuradome. Yurei might not have realized that the man seated there was a shadow, but his instincts nagged at him—surely Kuradome had noticed Sozai's presence by now.
Indeed, Kuradome's gaze lingered on Sozai for a moment, unreadable, before shifting away.
Bài Qíyuè, however, was openly impressed. She gave a soft clap, her elegant smile polished and regal.
"Your guards are truly talented. That black cat major carries a different spirit… What is his name? It is not every day that one witnesses such skill since the days of the Kazoxie War."
Her words carried weight. The Kazoxie War, fought a thousand years ago between the Kazomaki Kingdom and the Lanxie Clan, had claimed countless royal guards. The independence won then was why this very day bore such meaning. For her to compare Sozai's spirit to that era was no small compliment.
Yurei's fox ears twitched sharply. He turned to her in alarm, eyes widening. Damn it, Sozai… digging gold already, are you?
Sozai's ears, too, twitched. His heart skipped as her words settled into him, but he kept his stance steady.
At last, with the parade nearing its end, Sozai's voice rang out, powerful and resolute:
"We protect our kingdom of Baiyun with our everything!"
The guards roared the oath in unison, striking the ground with the backs of their swords in thunderous rhythm.
Sozai stood tall at the forefront, Saimei beside him. A proud, confident smirk curved his lips. Yurei swallowed hard, his gray hair brushing lightly across his cheek as he straightened himself.
And then—green eyes caught gray. Their gazes locked across the distance.
Sozai's eyes gleamed with silent confidence, and something nameless—something that stirred the air between them, unspoken yet undeniable.