"The closer you sit to power,
the colder your meals,
the sharper the daggers,
and the sweeter the lies."
⸻
Dinner passed in a blur.
I barely tasted the food.
Barely noticed the servants whispering, the nobles watching, the man beside me sipping sake as if he hadn't flipped my life upside down.
But Dōsan noticed.
He watched everything.
Every stolen glance.
Every word left unspoken.
Every moment I avoided looking at him—the man with the kiss and the crest.
⸻
Dōsan knew he had outdone himself.
A feast fit for a royal wedding.
Silken drapes. Jade goblets. Wine in pitchers shaped like foxes.
Oda Nobunaga, seated at the center, regal and radiant.
I took the seat beside him.
"Is it not too early to celebrate?" I asked.
Nobunaga chuckled.
"When you've survived as many betrayals as I have, Lady Helena, you celebrate the rumor of peace."
His eyes flicked to the wine I had yet to touch.
But my cup was lifted.
Not by me.
By him—Katsuro.
He stood behind me, dressed as a simple servant.
Unseen by everyone but me.
He raised the cup, sniffed it faintly...
Then, without breaking eye contact—
He poured it onto the floor.
A guard moved. Nobunaga raised a brow.
But Katsuro bowed and vanished into the shadows.
As if he'd never existed.
And no one noticed...
Except Nobunaga.
⸻
🥀 After the Banquet
Nobunaga found me in the garden pavilion,
legs curled beneath heavy robes,
hands folded too perfectly in my lap—
as if I had practiced looking composed.
"You're not surprised your cup was swapped," he said quietly.
I looked up, stood up, our eyes locking.
For a moment, time held its breath.
"Should I be?" I asked, voice calm—too calm.
But inside... I was spiraling.
Not from the attempt on my life.
But from how easily I had accepted it.
A poisoned cup.
A failed plot.
Another near-death... as if it was natural.
Expected.
Like I had lived it before.
Was it his presence making me unafraid?
The very man I had feared just moments ago?
And yet—
Every time our eyes met that night,
my mind spun into overdrive:
a hand brushing mine by a river,
a kiss beneath a torii gate,
a quiet laugh shared across lifetimes.
Images I had no memory of living—
but couldn't bring myself to doubt.
He watched me.
Silent. Still.
As if waiting for my mask to crack.
"I don't know if you're lucky..." he murmured,
"...or if you're playing a game deeper than even I understand."
"Can it be both?" I replied, smiling faintly.
But inside—
I was coming undone.
A death that wasn't meant to be mine.
Or maybe... one that always was.
⸻
A beat passed.
Then he crouched beside me, face softened by firelight.
"Do you believe I would let harm come to you?"
"No," I whispered.
I wanted to believe it.
But this world didn't care what I wanted.
"Yet someone already tried," I added, my voice quieter now. "And I don't even know who they were."
He looked at me—not as a lord, not as a suitor, but as a man who had faced betrayal more times than he could count.
And then he did something unexpected.
He reached out, slowly, brushing a trembling lock of hair behind my ear—his fingers ghosting over my temple.
Then lower.
His hand lingered behind my neck.
And with quiet finality—
He bent forward and kissed my hair.
Not my lips.
Not my skin.
But the very air I wore like a veil of fear.
"I won't let this stand," he said softly, dangerously.
"I will find out who dared... and I will make them regret it."
⸻
In that moment, I almost broke.
Almost reached for him.
Almost confessed I didn't belong here.
But Dōsan's guards were likely already stationed in the shadows.
And I was still a stranger wearing silk she didn't earn.
So I only nodded.
Held myself together.
And hoped the poison hadn't already seeped into something deeper than blood.
The palace had quieted now.
The lanterns flickered low.
And the night was colder than I remembered.
No music.
No guards.
Only him.
And me.
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough to steal my breath.
"I won't ask what you saw," he said gently.
"Not yet."
I didn't answer.
Couldn't.
The weight of half-remembered dreams was heavier than any truth.
He looked at me.
Really looked.
"When the memories come... take it slow.
Don't panic.
And whatever you do—don't run from them.
Not this time."
My heart thudded.
He paused.
"There are more people protecting you now than you realize."
A soft breath.
"This life is different."
I swallowed hard.
His eyes met mine—firm, unwavering.
"And when you look at me...
Don't pretend it's fear."
A long silence passed between us.
Then, slowly, he turned—
masking the flicker of emotion behind his eyes.
He raised a hand to signal his men.
And just like that—
he was gone.
Leaving behind only the ghost of a voice,
and a heartbeat I didn't know I was holding.
⸻
When I finally returned to my chambers, the scroll lay waiting where I had left it.
I unrolled it with trembling hands.
It contained only one sentence:
"The world is not changed by men who wait.
It is changed by women who dare."
And beneath it—
A red inked crest.
Oda.
Stamped beside my name.
Helena.
No title.
No explanation.
Just... us.
On the same parchment.
As if fate had already decided.
⸻
I didn't notice Dōsan slip in behind me until he spoke.
"You read it," he said, like he already knew.
I nodded.
He walked closer, peering over my shoulder.
"Bold," he muttered. "Very him."
"I—" I started, but my voice faltered.
I turned, expecting some wise counsel, some reassurance that this was politics, strategy, ceremony.
Instead, Dōsan just raised a brow and smirked.
"You kissed him first, didn't you?"
"WHAT?!"
He laughed. Loudly. "No? Then why are you blushing like a girl caught scribbling hearts on scrolls?"
"I AM NOT—!" I turned away, hiding my face.
"He's watching you," Dōsan added, more serious now. "Even tonight. Even through all the noise."
I clutched the scroll tighter. "I don't know what to do."
"Then don't decide yet," he said. "Just... dare to stand where you are. And see who follows."
⸻
But I couldn't stop staring at it—
The Oda crest.
Beside my name.
What had I become?
A guest?
A bride?
A pawn?
Or perhaps something else entirely...
⸻
🌸 Midnight, Dōsan's Hallway
The scroll was slipped under my door.
Not sealed. Not signed.
Inside, the words were sharp and hasty:
"From now on.
Drink nothing you haven't poured yourself."
I froze, staring at the parchment.
"This isn't a prank," I whispered to the shadows.
"This is a warning."
⸻
👹 Elsewhere – An Underground Room
Katsuro removed his mask.
Half his face bore the Oda bloodline.
The other half... was marked with a hidden tattoo.
Katsuro slammed a blade into the wall near the temple.
"They want to bury her again.
Erase her from this era.
Just like the first time. Every single time!"
"The timeline is collapsing," a voice echoed from behind a curtain. "She wasn't supposed to be in danger yet."
"Then tell the council this:
If they want her gone, they'll have to come through me."
Another masked figure emerged.
"If she remembers everything... the future collapses."
Katsuro growled.
"Let it collapse.
If this is the only world where she breathes...
I'll let history burn."