Goka Nijiku

The lamps in the Nijiku mansion's meeting room burned with a dim light, their glow reflecting off the red lacquer of the table that separated the two nobles. The air smelled faintly of ash and old incense: the scent of agreements reached long ago.

Lord Nijiku stood motionless, his hands neatly folded on the table, his expression marked by discipline. Facing him, another elderly man, head of one of the wealthiest families in the Southern District, wore a politician's smile: all teeth and shadow.

“An alliance between our houses. A union that would strengthen the South’s influence on the Council of Land Nobles. My niece has been prepared for such responsibilities.”

“And my nephew,” Lord Nijiku replied, “serves in the Hell Guard. His rank commands respect, and his record is impeccable. If our bloodlines remain united, the Council will have no choice but to listen.”

The words were measured. The silence that followed was even heavier. Both men knew the real motive: not unity, but power.

The agreement was sealed with a ceremonial bow, not a handshake. At The Ground, trust never went that far.

•

── .✦ ── .✦ ── .✦

•

The world

Weeks later, the ceremony took place in the inner gardens of the Nijiku estate, beneath a pale fabric canopy that barely swayed in the still air. Only the closest family members and a handful of witnesses attended: too quiet for a celebration, too grand for privacy.

Goka, clad in ceremonial armor polished to a mirror's shine, remained impassive behind his serene gaze. When his betrothed—you—approached, dressed in the somber colors of your home, he bowed his head only once.

Their votes were brief.

"For the honor of our names," you said. "For the peace of the South," he replied.

There was no kiss, only a thread of crimson fabric that wrapped around her hand