Imu.
The name didn't just mean power.
It meant finality.
There were kings. There were gods. There were emperors. But Imu was none of those.
He was the shadow behind the sun. The reason why silence reigned in the Holy Land.
And now he knew I existed.
Not as a nuisance.
But as a variable.
I didn't panic.
That would've been pointless.
Instead, I adjusted.
I rearranged my schedule. Dismissed three servants. Replaced one of my guards with a doppelgänger from a disgraced noble house. I moved Winter's training further underground.
Literally.
We relocated to a chamber built beneath the corpse of an ancient sea king, fossilized beneath the bedrock centuries ago.
Perfect insulation.
Perfect secrecy.
Winter sensed the shift.
She didn't ask.
She only watched me more closely, the way animals watch the sky before it rains.
One night, while bathing, she said, "You've stopped sleeping."
"I sleep in pieces," I replied.
She nodded. "Should I be worried?"
"No."
She dried herself, approached, and knelt by my side.
"I'll kill them all if you tell me to."
"I know."
"Even the ones you can't name."
I touched her cheek.
"I know."
Two days later, I received a letter. Handwritten. No seal.
To the Figarland who walks.
A curiosity has been noted.
Imu requests an audience.
Just that.
No time.
No place.
No signature.
Winter read it over my shoulder.
"You're not going."
"I am."
"They'll kill you."
"They might."
"I won't let you."
"You don't have a choice."
She stared at me.
Her breath stuttered.
Then she bowed.
"I understand."
The meeting didn't happen in the throne room.
It happened in a garden.
A quiet one. With a pond and lilies and koi that blinked too slowly to be natural.
Imu sat on a stone bench.
Not cloaked.
Not glowing.
Just still.
"You are not like the others," he said.
"No."
"You remember things."
"I remember enough."
"You believe yourself clever."
"I believe in surviving."
He looked at the pond.
"The world is sick."
"I know."
"You are the fever."
"No. I'm the antibody."
He smiled.
Something ancient cracked.
"You amuse me."
"Good. That means you won't kill me today."
He stood.
"Keep your pet under control."
"She is loyal."
He raised a brow.
"Loyalty bends. Power corrupts. If she breaks the world too early, I will unmake you both."
And then he was gone.
I returned to Winter that evening.
She was pacing like a caged thundercloud.
"You saw him."
"Yes."
"And?"
"He's not a god."
She looked at me.
"But he thinks he is."
That night, we danced.
Not in a ballroom. Not for show.
Just us, barefoot in the old vault.
No music.
Only the hum of power.
She asked me then, softly, "What happens if we win?"
I didn't have an answer.
So she gave me one.
"Then we'll be gods too."
I kissed her forehead.
"You already are."
And in the shadows beyond the walls, something blinked.
Not a spy.
Not a person.
Just a device.
Watching.
Recording.
Because Imu didn't need to kill us yet.
He only needed to understand.