** Silent and lethal, they closed in with practiced swiftness. Two reached Azyen in a heartbeat, but before they could strike, spectral figures erupted from Azyen’s back. Purple and immaterial, their spears gleamed with deadly intent as they hovered menacingly near the necks of the assailants.

“Enough!” Amu’s voice boomed, halting the men in their tracks. His command carried the weight of absolute authority. “This will suffice. Release my nephew.”

Azyen’s voice was a blade of its own, sharp and cold. “Then forsake the life of the girl who dared to attack me. My terms were clear: I will claim the life of anyone who threatens me.”

Amu watched him with seriousness, his stern face betraying no emotion. “Your terms were noted. But considering my position—how could I entrust my life to a stranger without knowing his abilities? A test was necessary. Surely, you understand.”

For a moment, Azyen’s gaze bore into Irma before he released him.

“Why the hesitation?” Irma asked, his breath heavy with relief. “For a second I thought you really meant to kill me.”

“Nothing personal,” Azyen replied, sheathing his sword with practiced ease.

The girl behind Amu revealed herself, slipping the pistol back into the folds of her white kimono. A playful smile curved her lips as she regarded Azyen with approval.

“This is my granddaughter, Ayaka,” Amu introduced, his voice softening. “I trust you won’t harm such a delicate flower.”

Azyen’s gaze was unyielding. He opened his mouth to respond, but his senses flared—a warning of imminent danger. Before he could react, an arrow, spinning with deadly precision, streaked toward him.

It passed perilously close to Irma’s chest, forcing Azyen to raise his flux-coated palm as a shield. The arrow shattered his first layer of defense upon contact, its spinning force tearing through his second layer of protection soon after.

Gritting his teeth, Azyen forced his mental power, arresting the arrow’s rotation in midair even as it burned against his glove. For several tense moments, the world held its breath as he wrestled control. Finally, the arrow fell, clattering harmlessly to the ground.

In the next second, Azyen shoved Irma aside with his shoulder, his sword flashing into his hand. Without hesitation, he sent an aero blade arcing toward the origin of the attack. A figure stepped from the corner of the house—a woman. With a mere flick of her wrist, she shattered the energy blade as though it were made of glass.

Amu and the others immediately cupped their hands, bowing deeply in her direction.

Her crimson eyes however, locked onto Azyen, mocking him with their silent derision before she turned away, disappearing behind the house.

Azyen’s piercing gaze shifted to Amu, who remained bowing. His voice cut through the air like ice.

“Is this how you treat me, head of the Fujiwara Clan? Your words say something, but your actions do another?”

“This was not my doing,” Amu snapped, his anger barely restrained as he appeared before Azyen with lightning speed, blocking his path.

Azyen’s response was a cold glare, his readiness to strike evident in his stance.

Irma stepped forward, his voice calm yet urgent. “That person isn’t part of our clan. The test ended with my uncle’s command. No one here would dare disobey him. This attack was... beyond us.”

“Who is this person then?” Azyen demanded, his tone direct.

Amu exhaled sharply. “An emissary we dare not offend,” he admitted, his words laced with reluctant truth.

“A Klausvarner,” Azyen murmured, lowering his sword.

Both Amu and Irma nodded, their expressions tight with unease.

“We respectfully ask that you keep her presence here a secret,” Amu said, his voice regaining some measure of authority.

Azyen sheathed his sword, his posture neutral once more. “I have no intention of interfering in matters that do not concern me.”

Relief softened the tension in Amu’s shoulders. “Then let us proceed to discuss the terms of the contract,” he said, gesturing toward the house. **

The room was steeped in a solemn stillness as we both lowered ourselves onto the tatami, assuming the formal seiza position. Amu’s two attendants stood sentinel at his sides, their posture impeccable, hands clasped behind their backs, faces betraying not a flicker of emotion.

I placed my sword carefully beside me, a gesture of both respect and readiness, and rested my palms on my thighs. My eyes never left Amu, awaiting his first words.

His gaze was a fortress, impenetrable and devoid of expression. The silence between us stretched, taut and heavy, prodding at my patience. Just as I felt the first prickles of annoyance, the door slid open soundlessly. The girl in the white kimono—the one who had earlier shot at me—entered with the grace of a shadow.

She carried a plate laden with a teapot and cups. Her movements were precise, almost ritualistic. As she served the tea, her presence seemed a fleeting whisper of respect. Her retreat was as quiet as her arrival, leaving behind an aroma that stirred distant memories.

Amu broke the silence at last, his voice calm but probing. “I see you understand our ways.”

I inclined my head slightly, lifting the tea to my nose and inhaling deeply. The scent seemed to awaken my nerves, a ripple of awareness coursing through me. “I’ve encountered people of your culture before and learned from them. Their ways left an impression.” I sipped the tea and allowed a rare note of appreciation to touch my voice. “This is an exceptional brew.”

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Amu chuckled softly, a sound that carried both approval and acknowledgment. “Indeed, it is.” He set his cup down with a deliberate motion and extended his hand. The attendant on his right stepped forward, placing a small, conical device into his palm.

I watched with unblinking focus, not out of curiosity but from an ingrained wariness. Every action, no matter how innocuous, was a potential move in an unseen game.

Amu pressed a button, and the device hummed softly before projecting a holographic image into the air between us. My mercenary profile floated there—a collection of fragmented details about my operations and history.

“Let us begin,” Amu said, placing the device on the table so the projection faced me. “Before my nephew recommended you, you were an unknown to me. He praised your skills, and I was curious—curious why someone of your caliber wasn’t on my list of potential contractors. To satisfy my doubts, I had my people investigate you. This”—he gestured to the hologram—“is all they managed to uncover.”

The profile was sparse: my first name, a brief description of my appearance, and a list of past missions. It was a deliberate tip of the iceberg that I truly was.

“It’s no wonder you didn’t come through a recommendation from the Mercenary Hall,” Amu continued. “Your usual operating domain is far from Klausvarner territory, and your profile offers little of substance. Why is someone of your skill hiding from the world? In this line of work, a detailed dossier often attracts clients.”

I met his eyes, my tone measured yet firm. “My profile contains all the information a client needs: my record. Personal details are irrelevant. My reputation is built on results, not trivialities.”

Amu’s expression remained inscrutable as he nodded, powering off the device. “You carry the air of an assassin. Is that your specialty?”

“To protect someone from an assassin, one must first understand their craft.”

“Wise,” he admitte, "but vague." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. “One last question: What defines you as a person? Is it an object? A goal? A way of life?”

The question caught me off guard, its depth unexpected. I studied Amu for a moment, gauging the intent behind his words. Finally, I replied, my voice carrying the weight of conviction. “I am a man shaped by the soil that bore me, not the lands I traverse. I am not one thing but many—fragments that come together to form the person you see.”

Amu seemed satisfied, the weight in his posture easing. “Very well,” he said, settling back. “In your response to my initial offer, you named your price as 5,000 crystal nodes for the mission’s success, with no advance payment. I find these terms acceptable. Are you fully aware of the task before you?”

“I know I am to ensure your survival during the gathering—a period of three days. The specifics and rules, however, remain unclear to me.”

“Then allow me to explain,” Amu began. “You, along with five other mercenaries I’ve hired, will operate under my direct command. That means you are to take orders from no one but me. You will work alongside my men and are strictly prohibited from causing them harm or interfering with their duties. Exceptions to this rule may arise, but for the duration of your stay, you are a guest in my house. I expect you to conduct yourself with respect and uphold the dignity of the Fujiwara Clan.”

I inclined my head slightly in acknowledgment. “Understood.”

Amu’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as though testing the resolve behind my words. Then, satisfied, he lifted his cup again, signaling the conversation’s conclusion.

I nodded, holding the gaze of the two individuals flanking Amu. My focus lingered longer on the one to his left, my stare penetrating, pressing through the surface right into the depths of his spirit.

“If you have no further questions,” Amu began, his tone firm and businesslike, “I will assign you to the surveillance team overseeing the estate. Your sensory abilities will be best utilized there.”

The man on Amu’s right handed him a contract and a pen. Without hesitation, Amu extended them toward me, the document already bearing his signature.

“For every innocent life lost by your hand at this gathering, a fee will be deducted from your payment, scaled to the person’s status and rank. This rule applies equally to me and my clan. Conversely, the same fee will be paid to you for capturing or killing individuals involved in any assassination attempt against my life. However, the burden of proof falls on you—you must demonstrate their guilt to claim the reward. Attached to the contract is a list of the respective prices.”

“How much is your life worth, Head of the Fujiwara?” I asked with a calm voice but with a sharpened edge, my focus fixed on the largest prize among the list of offerings.

My question had an immediate effect. Both bodyguards stiffened, their eyes narrowing as they appraised me as a potential threat. Their reaction was expected, even warranted—mercenaries, after all, had the same potential for betrayal as they did for loyalty. For someone with sufficient ambition and a tempting offer, the life of their client could easily become a target.

Though the likelihood of such betrayal was diminished by the Mercenary Hall’s strictures and the inevitable pursuit of retribution, it was never impossible. I admired Amu’s resolve to maintain vigilance rather than blind trust.

“The price for saving my life is ten thousand crystal nodes,” Amu replied smoothly, his voice betraying no fear. “But I suggest you focus on your role. My personal guards will neutralize any direct threats long before they reach me.”

Hm. That's what you believe? A faint smile tugged at my lips as I signed the contract. I slid it back across the table along with the pen, locking eyes with Amu as I did.

'Head of the Fujiwara,' I projected telepathically, my mental voice loud and clear. 'You already harbor snakes among your ranks.'

Amu’s gaze flicked upward sharply, questioning me.

'Let me prove it,' I continued. 'The man to your left is named Reiji. He is your advisor and his family has quite a high status in your clan. You have no motive to question his loyalty, but now I'll give you one. When his son was on the death bed, Reiji saved him with the ginoka dust tincture. He said he obtained it from a merchant, but in fact it was given by the Takeda Clan. In exchange for that medicine, he swore an oath to the Takeda. You don't have to ask now if that's true or not. You only have to ask how could I know about this matter. Allow me to shake hands with Reiji. I will seal his flux then give you the method to find out the truth.'

Amu's jaw tightened, anger flashing in his eyes. Despite his disciplined demeanor, I could feel the tumult of emotions churning beneath.

'You hired me to do a job. Let me do it,' I said, not waiting for a reply.

Rising smoothly to my feet, I took the sword with me.

“If there is nothing to discuss any further, I ask to be excused and shown to my quarters,” I said aloud, bowing slightly and cupping my fists in Amu’s direction.

He hesitated, the air between us heavy with tension. Finally, he stood as well. “If you’re tired, there is nothing to forgive. Tomorrow will be a long day. Reiji will escort you to your room.” His voice was measured, though it carried an undercurrent of unease.

The thin, elderly man to Amu’s left stepped forward at his command.

“Master Reiji,” I greeted, bowing respectfully, a gesture of humility that was impossible for him to ignore. When he approached, I extended my hand. The superiority of his station and my status as a foreigner left him little choice. To refuse would be a slight against his own dignity.

He took my hand, but his confidence turned to alarm in an instant. The moment our palms met, finger thick, black chain like tattoos began to unfurl from the point of contact, winding their way around his body with eerie precision.

“Thank you,” I said with a thin smile, grateful for an easy work.

Reiji’s expression faltered as he failed to pull his hand away. His free hand shot toward my neck, but I intercepted it, gripping his wrist with steel-like force.

Then, with a sharp and resonant cry—“YAAA!”—I shattered his concentration, breaking his control over the flux coursing through him.

“Soul Prison, seal!” I commanded as the black chains engulfed his form. The air itself seemed to darken as the sealing energy locked into place.

But before I could savor the completion of my work, a deafening crash shattered the moment. The ceiling above us caved in, fragments of wood and plaster raining down as an ominous presence descended.

An oni-masked woman landed behind me in a blur, her movements as fluid as a predator’s. Her blade was at my throat, the cold steel pressing against my layered shield unable to reach my skin.

"Took you long enough," I said to her. "With such a slow reaction you will arrive right when your master's head rolls on the floor."