Just as swiftly as fortune had smiled upon the Shimizu household, disaster descended like a meteor, obliterating all in its path.

  Zichen extended an invitation to Misbah one evening, a rare occurrence that stirred a flicker of curiosity in the younger concubine. The first concubine wished to share tea and conversation, he expined through his personal attendant. After all, they had never truly spoken at length with just the two of them.

  Misbah arrived at Zichen's chambers with cautious steps, acutely aware of the vast gulf between them. Zichen's bearing was impeccable as always—prim, steady, the very model of a proper noble concubine. In contrast, Misbah felt like a wild bird that had somehow flown into a gilded cage.

  The few times they’d interacted were brief, but positive. In those early, turbulent days when Misbah first arrived, Zichen had met his purposeful barbs with patient correction, gently redirecting him toward proper etiquette rather than scolding. Sometimes, the first concubine would even send small gifts to his chambers—delicate desserts of his own making, little tastes of Dyssian cuisine accompanied by handwritten notes expining the ingredients.

  That evening, as usual, Zichen led the conversation with practiced ease. He asked about Misbah's day, about the book he had been reading, about whether the garden pleased him. Slowly, imperceptibly, Misbah felt the tension leave his shoulders. He found himself speaking freely, even smiling once or twice. It was... almost pleasant, to have another man to talk to. He dared not call it friendship, but a casual conversational partner was enough. More than enough.

  The tea was excellent, as everything in Zichen's chambers tended to be. Misbah raised his cup for a sip—

  And in that split instant, in the reflection of the porcein, he caught a glimpse of a figure approaching from behind.

  He spun around. A tall woman in bck stood behind him, both hands gripping a dagger raised high, aimed directly at his throat.

  With a scream of terror, Misbah hurled his cup and struck her in the head, hot tea spshing in her face. He scrambled to run, but her hand shot out and seized his colr, yanking him backward. She dragged him inside and hurled him against the wall, the impact driving the air from his lungs.

  He crumpled, gasping, and looked up to see her advancing. His heart hammered so violently he thought it might burst. Cold sweat slicked his skin as he hyperventited.

  “Zichen!” he pleaded. “Zichen! Please—help!”

  But the first concubine merely took a sip of his tea. Without looking at the assassin, he murmured, "Do keep it quiet. We don't want unnecessary attention."

  All hope crumpled to ash. Misbah’s blood turned to ice. The woman reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. He watched the dagger rise, glinting from the mplight, and squeezed his eyes shut—

  Until he heard a wet, gargling sound and felt a spray of warmth across his face.

  His eyes flew open.

  The woman’s own throat had been impaled by a bde from behind. She staggered, dropping the dagger. The bde withdrew from her flesh, and she clutched at her throat, stumbling back a few steps before she colpsed heavily to the ground.

  Behind her stood Hiroki.

  She had come to visit Zichen for tonight as their anniversary was soon to approach. She never would have expected to see such a scene—an assassin, inches before murdering her Misbah, and her first concubine sitting at the side, giving instructions.

  Still on the ground, looking up at her, Misbah had never seen such an expression on Hiroki before. An impenetrable darkness loomed within them, cold and lethal as the bde she held. Veins stood out faintly on her forehead and neck. The swell of her pregnancy, now clearly visible beneath her robes, did nothing to soften her aspect. She stared down at the corpse, murder still burning in her gaze, chest heaving.

  Then, she turned around and looked at Zichen. Her first concubine sat frozen. His usual composure had dissolved into stunned disbelief. Then, fear. His lips parted, but no words emerged. She was not supposed to be here. She should have gone to Misbah, or perhaps Yuzu. Not… here.

  He still didn’t fully register the reality as the guards seized his arms and took him away, eyes still wide and uncomprehending.

  Only after all was quiet again did Hiroki approach Misbah with urgent, halting steps and crouch down carefully, one hand bracing her belly. He stared at her in shock until finally snapping out of his trance, and he threw himself into her arms, his body shaking violently, his sobs muffled against her shoulder. She held him tightly, one hand cradling the back of his head until he felt safe again.

  Later, Hiroki visited the chamber where Zichen was held. She dismissed the guards and stood before him alone.

  His hair, normally pinned up in an elegant, dignified style, now hung loose and unkempt, pooling down his back like a dark waterfall. His expression was no longer fearful like earlier. Just… tired. Accepting. Resigned.

  He confessed without effort. He had hired the assassin from his own funds, had pnned it carefully, had chosen tonight because he knew—or thought—Hiroki would be elsewhere. He spoke straightforwardly, sparing no detail.

  She asked him why, and at that, he fell quiet for a little. Then, instead of answering, he lifted his gaze to hers with a wistful smile.

  “Do you remember Yumekui, my dy?” he asked softly.

  At that, Hiroki stilled. That was the name of their first daughter. Zichen’s only child.

  She had died of illness at only six months old.

  Zichen had always been of weaker constitution. In those early years, when the household consisted of only the two of them, they had tried countless times for a child, yet to no avail. Hiroki's father had sneered openly at Zichen, called him useless to his face, and urged his daughter to take other concubines. She had refused, again and again, determined to make it work with the man she had chosen.

  Then, one day, a miracle happened. Hiroki was pregnant. Zichen recounted that day with warmth—how he couldn’t stop crying tears of joy, how even Hiroki shed a few of her own. When a shaman predicted a daughter, it felt as though the sun had finally pierced an eternity of darkness.

  He remembered how they competed to hold baby Yumekui, neither willing to relinquish her when their allotted time expired. Every day, his heart soared with a happiness so immense it hurt.

  But like a flower touched by frost, Yumekui had withered. Her cries grew quieter. Her babbling ceased. And before anyone could comprehend what was happening, she was gone.

  It happened on a stormy night. Hiroki had been detained at court and could not return. So Zichen alone had held Yumekui's tiny body, still wrapped in the brilliant red bnkets they had chosen together, and paced outside as rain poured mercilessly down. He begged the stars over and over: Please—if you must take a life, take mine instead, don’t take my daughter’s.

  News of the loss spread to Hiroki’s parents quickly. Before the household could even mourn, they had already selected two new concubines for her: Yuzu and Aki. Then, only months ter, Furong joined as well. And very soon, Hiroki was pregnant again—a daughter, this time with Yuzu. A healthy daughter.

  It was simply too much for Zichen to handle. He understood, rationally, that a general of Hiroki's rank could not be constrained by mere manly matters. So he grieved quietly alone while the rest of the world moved on.

  Then, Misbah arrived.

  At first, Zichen kept his eyes closed to the Cornaulian boy's unfathomable favor. He was exotic, after all. Younger. Beautiful. Different. Novelty had its own appeal. But then, on the anniversary of Yumekui's death, Hiroki had gathered them all and announced her pregnancy. With Misbah's child.

  "What other expnation could there be?" Zichen's voice finally cracked, rising in pitch, trembling. "His child must have taken my daughter's spirit. It had to be! How could I sit here and watch his child grow up while mine was taken from me?!"

  Hiroki’s expression tightened. Her heart twisted at the sight of her longest-standing partner, the man who had been with her since the beginning, now kneeling pathetically before her, spouting desperate nonsense. She drew a pained breath and turned her back to him.

  "You are hopeless."

  Those were the st words she ever spoke to him.

  Soon, Zichen was formally divorced from the Shimizu household. His family received generous compensation upon his return. She protected his name, ensuring no word of that night leaked beyond those who already knew. As far as the court was concerned, the first concubine had simply returned home due to irreconcible differences.

  That night, Hiroki y in Misbah's chambers but did not touch him with desire. She simply held him in the darkness, her face buried in the crook of his neck, saying nothing. He let her hold him, one hand moving slowly, gently through her hair as she eventually rexed into sleep against him.

  He did not know what to say. He did not know what he felt.

  pangmida