The Fujiwara family's main residence sat in a quiet corner of Tokyo's Chiyoda Ward.
It was not a modernized mansion, but a sprawling traditional Japanese estate, cut off from the outside world by tall walls.
Every foundation stone, every roof tile, was steeped in generations of history and political scheming of this political dynasty.
Night fell, and the lights blazed throughout the residence, yet not a single sound of commotion could be heard.
The air carried the solemn, dignified scent of old wood mingled with tatami.
"Hic... hic..."
The muffled sobs broke that silence, coming from the spacious study of the head of the household, the current Prime Minister Daichi Fujiwara.
Chika Fujiwara was curled up on the sofa, her face buried deep in her knees, her whole body shaking with sobs. Her crisp Shuchiin uniform was now hopelessly creased.
Everything she had experienced today had completely exceeded the limits of what her simple, happy worldview could bear.
That Seiji Fujiwara, who reigned over the school like a god or a demon.
Her best friend Kaguya, who stood behind him with empty eyes, like a doll.
And yesterday in the Student Council Room, Kaguya kneeling at the man's feet, being humiliated in front of everyone...
Scene after terrifying scene replayed in her mind like a revolving lantern, smashing every bit of her innocence and common sense to pieces.
She couldn't understand it. She couldn't accept it.
She felt as if she were trapped in a nightmare she could never wake from.
In the midst of overwhelming fear and confusion, her only instinct was to run home and turn to her father for help.
Daichi Fujiwara sat behind his massive mahogany desk, quietly watching his daughter cry until she could barely catch her breath.
He said nothing. He simply took the report in his hand and slowly fed it into the shredder.
That report detailed everything that had happened today at Shuchiin, even more thoroughly and more coldly than Chika's incoherent sobbing account.
He watched the report being shredded into strips beyond reconstruction, and on that face which always commanded authority without anger, there was no fury, no sympathy.
At first, seeing his daughter in such a state, a flicker of paternal pity had indeed crossed his heart.
But that flicker had lasted less than half a second before being completely drowned out by a politician's absolute reason and ruthlessness.
Daichi Fujiwara's mind was racing.
What he saw was not his daughter's fear.
It was the information that fear represented.
Seiji Fujiwara... that young man who, single-handedly and in such a short time, had overturned the old order of Japan's political and business worlds, had finally stepped onto the stage.
He was no longer content to rule from behind the scenes. He had begun, in the most arrogant and undisguised manner, to display his power and his possessions to the entire world.
This was a signal.
A signal that a new era had truly arrived.
The old rules were void, the old connections had collapsed. In this new era, there was only one way to survive: to become a vassal of the new king.
And now, an opportunity of a lifetime sat right in front of him.
His daughter, Chika Fujiwara, was the Secretary of Shuchiin's Student Council.
His daughter was Kaguya Shinomiya's best friend.
His daughter shared the same surname as that young man.
These seemingly coincidental facts, in the eyes of a top-tier political opportunist, were interlocking steps leading to the summit of power.
Seiji Fujiwara's patience was running out.
If he didn't produce a "pledge of allegiance" satisfying enough to the new king, then the next to be crushed would be him, and the entire Fujiwara family.
And the most precious chip in his hand...
A blazing gleam flashed through Daichi Fujiwara's eyes, which were usually as still as an ancient well.
He rose, walked over to his daughter, reached out, and with a gentleness completely at odds with the coldness inside him, lightly patted her on the back.
"There now, Chika, stop crying."
Daichi Fujiwara's voice was full of a father's warmth and authority. "You did very well to tell me all of this. Leave the rest to your father."
...
At the same time, in the Student Council Room of Shuchiin Academy.
Seiji Fujiwara was leaning back in the president's chair, that symbol of transferred power, idly gazing at the night outside the window.
Kaguya knelt at his feet, gently and obediently massaging his calves.
Ai Hayasaka stood to one side, mixing him a glass of whiskey.
The [Pressure Aura] was working beautifully. The entire afternoon, not a single tactless student had dared come and disturb him.
But that calm was beginning to feel a little dull.
Just then, his private phone gave a faint vibration.
It was an encrypted email.
Sender: Daichi Fujiwara.
The contents were simple, an extraordinarily humble and reverently worded private dinner invitation.
The time was tomorrow evening, the location the Fujiwara family's main residence.
And on the guest list, in beautiful brushwork calligraphy, three names were clearly written:
Mr. Seiji Fujiwara
Daichi Fujiwara
My daughter, Chika Fujiwara
The corner of Seiji Fujiwara's mouth curled into an amused arc.
He couldn't even be bothered to guess. He simply activated [Emotional Insight], channeling his spiritual force along the email's "causal thread," extending it in an instant to that solemn estate.
He "saw" it.
He saw, deep within the Prime Minister's heart, the burning ambition for power, blazing like a flame.
He also "saw" the fear and wariness of him, hidden beneath that ambition.
And he "saw," even more clearly, the cold, ruthless decision of this scheming old fox to treat his own daughter as his "most precious chip."
"A pledge of allegiance, is it..."
Seiji Fujiwara murmured to himself.
He didn't actually have any ill will toward that pink-haired little animal who was always bouncing around.
Chika Fujiwara was too pure, simple as a glass of plain water, stirring no desire in him to conquer.
But...
Destroying that greenhouse-flower innocence of hers, that naive, sun-drenched fantasy, seemed rather interesting.
To witness with his own eyes a girl raised wrapped in "love" and "kindness" being pushed into the abyss by the father she trusted and revered most.
To savor her radiant world crumbling, fracturing piece by piece, finally dissolving into lifeless dust.
That process would undoubtedly be an artistic performance brimming with wicked pleasure.
"Reply to him," Seiji ordered Ai Hayasaka without turning his head. "Tell him I'll be there on time."
...
The next day, Chika Fujiwara woke with a powerful sense of unease.
The night before, after soothing her, her father had sent her back to her room without saying anything more.
This morning, the very first thing he did was call her to the study.
"Chika,"
Daichi Fujiwara looked at his daughter's still-swollen eyes, his face wearing a gentle yet serious expression. "Tonight, we will be hosting a very important dinner. Mr. Seiji Fujiwara will be coming in person."
"What?!"
Chika took a step back in fright, all color draining from her face. "Wh... why? I don't want to see him! He's a monster!"
"Calm down, Chika." Daichi Fujiwara's voice carried an authority that brooked no argument, and Chika instinctively shut her mouth.
"It is precisely because he is so 'dangerous' that we must communicate with him."
He came around the desk, stood before his daughter, and looked her in the eye.
"Chika, our Fujiwara family shares a surname with Mr. Seiji Fujiwara. To outsiders, that itself implies a special relationship. But now, because of his actions at school, that relationship has become extremely strained."
He began his politician's set of rhetoric, the kind that could bewitch the heart.
"Your father needs your help. You are Miss Kaguya's best friend, and you are the Secretary of the Student Council. Only you can serve as the bridge of communication between our family and him."
"What... what can I do?" Chika asked, completely at a loss.
"Be a 'mediator.'" Daichi Fujiwara coaxed her along. "Make him see that our Fujiwara family bears him no ill will. Try, by using your friendship with Miss Kaguya, to ease his relationship with the Shinomiya Family. This is not only for our family's sake, but also... to save your friend, Miss Kaguya."
"Save... Kaguya?"
That word struck like a beam of light, instantly illuminating Chika's muddled mind.
That was right, Kaguya was so pitiable right now. As her best friend, how could she shrink back just because she was afraid?
Seeing the light rekindle in his daughter's eyes, Daichi Fujiwara knew the fish had taken the bait.
"Exactly." He spoke in a tone full of expectation. "So tonight, at the dinner, you must show your very best side. Don't be afraid, don't shrink back. You must let him see your sincerity and your kindness."
"Your father trusts you. I know you can do this."
Entrusted with such a weighty "mission" by her father, the fear in Chika Fujiwara's heart was instantly replaced by an intense sense of responsibility and duty.
She innocently believed every word her father said.
She felt she was no longer a helpless little girl who could only cry.
She was a tiny diplomat, shouldering the dual mission of "saving her friend" and "helping the family."
"Yes, Father!" Chika Fujiwara was now brimming with energy.
...
Evening came, an hour before the dinner was to begin.
Chika's mother, Keiko Fujiwara, a woman of dignified bearing whose every gesture exuded the grace of a traditional Yamato Nadeshiko, came in person to her daughter's room to make the final preparations for tonight's attire.
What she had selected for Chika was an exquisitely splendid cherry-blossom-pink long-sleeved furisode.
It was the formal dress that only unmarried young women would wear, and only for the most ceremonious occasions.
The fabric was embroidered in gold thread with elaborate patterns of cherry blossoms and butterflies that shimmered under the lamplight.
"Mom, isn't this too formal?" Chika looked at her lavishly dressed self in the mirror and squirmed uncomfortably.
"Not at all."
Keiko knelt behind her daughter and, with her exquisitely cared-for, gentle hands, tied the equally splendid brocade obi for her, drawing it tighter and tighter.
"Chika, remember, what you represent tonight is the face of our Fujiwara family."
The obi was cinched very tightly, making Chika feel a little short of breath.
"Mom..."
Keiko paid no mind to her daughter's discomfort. As she straightened the front of the kimono, she instructed her in a tone that seemed gentle but carried a pointed undercurrent:
"Chika, tonight's guest is critical to the future of our family..."
"So no matter what happens later, no matter what that gentleman says to you, or... does to you, you must remember one thing."
She raised her head and met her daughter's gaze in the mirror.
Deep in those gentle eyes lay a bottomless coldness that placed family interest above all else.
"You are first and foremost a member of the Fujiwara family."
"You must display the highest virtue of the women of our Fujiwara family..."
"That is, the resolve to willingly sacrifice everything for the honor of the family."
...
Night deepened. The Fujiwara residence, lit by garden lanterns one after another, took on an ancient, tranquil air.
The corridor leading to the main banquet hall was floored with wood polished smooth as a mirror, clearly reflecting the meticulously pruned dry landscape garden beyond the windows, like an ink-wash painting.
Chika Fujiwara, dressed in that splendid but constricting long-sleeved furisode, followed behind her father in small, mincing steps.
The wide obi cinched her tightly enough to leave her short of breath, and the wooden geta on her feet made her walk with extra care.
But her heart was filled with a sense of mission.
She imagined herself as a Valkyrie about to charge into battle. Her task tonight was to win over that "Demon King" and save her dear friend trapped in the depths of suffering.
"We're here."
Her father's voice broke into her fantasy.
They had stopped before an enormous sliding paper door painted with pine and cypress motifs.
"Chika, remember what your father said." Daichi Fujiwara offered one last instruction, his face wearing an expression more serious than his daughter had ever seen.
"Yes!" Chika straightened her small chest and nodded firmly.
Her father drew a deep breath and personally slid the paper door open.
"Mr. Seiji, my apologies for keeping you waiting."
Beyond the door was an extremely spacious Japanese-style banquet hall.
In the center of the room stood a low table cut from a single slab of cypress, already set with an exquisite kaiseki spread.
And that man she'd cast as her "conquest target," Seiji Fujiwara, was already waiting.
He had not worn a formal suit. Instead, he wore a deep-blue, finely tailored loungewear kimono, sitting cross-legged in a casual posture.
A cup of sake sat before him, and he watched the father and daughter at the door with evident interest.
Seiji Fujiwara's gaze lingered for a moment on Chika's splendid kimono, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
Chika's heart skipped a beat without her consent.
At such close range, she only now realized that this man was, in truth, almost too handsome.
It wasn't the soft, feminine kind of good looks fashionable among idols these days, but a handsomeness laden with pressure and aggression.
Especially those deep eyes of his, which seemed to see straight through a person, made Chika momentarily recall the terror she'd felt in the school auditorium.
But she quickly forced herself to calm down.
I'm here to save my friend! I can't be afraid! She steeled herself inwardly.
Imitating her father, she knelt respectfully in seiza before the low table.
...
The dinner began in an extremely strange atmosphere.
Chika quickly realized that the situation was nothing like what she had imagined.
This dinner was not at all an equal "communication" or "mediation."
It was a humble audience.
Her father, who in the Diet was sharp-tongued and commanded authority without anger, was here as humble as a subordinate before Seiji Fujiwara.
He used the highest tier of honorific language throughout, a fawning smile fixed on his face.
He carefully watched Seiji Fujiwara's sake cup, and the moment it was empty, without waiting for the maid attending to do it, he would immediately pick up the flask himself, bend at the waist, and refill it.
"Mr. Seiji, this sea urchin was flown in fresh from Hokkaido this morning. Please try some."
"Mr. Seiji, regarding the new energy bill you mentioned previously, I've already had the people under me..."
Every word, every gesture from her father showcased his submission and his usefulness to Seiji Fujiwara.
That posture left Chika feeling intensely uncomfortable, intensely disoriented.
In her heart, her father was the sky over their home, the pillar of the nation, an existence capable of anything.
She had never imagined that her own father would show such... groveling submission before a young man only a few years older than herself.
It felt as though something in her mind was beginning to crack.
...
Chika decided she couldn't stay silent any longer.
She gathered her courage and, in a pause between her father's words, forced a smile and spoke in a tone she tried to make natural:
"By... by the way, Mr. Seiji. At school today, Miss Kaguya... she didn't seem to have much energy, and her color wasn't very good..."
She hadn't finished speaking.
She felt a sharp, warning glance shoot at her from her side.
The smile on Daichi Fujiwara's face did not change, but in those eyes looking at his daughter, there was a stern reprimand.
That gaze seemed to say: Shut up. You have no place to speak here.
Then he immediately turned back and offered Seiji Fujiwara an apologetic smile.
"Haha, Mr. Seiji, please forgive her impertinence."