[Kitsune’s POV]

The Imperial Archives were located in the heavily guarded southern wing of the palace.

According to Yua, it was a fortress of knowledge, protected by overlapping layers of high-tier onmyodo barrier magic. If a spy with even a drop of spiritual energy tried to cross the threshold without an Imperial Medallion, the wards would instantly trigger a massive alarm, paralyzing the intruder and summoning the guards.

Which meant it was the perfect place for someone who had absolutely zero magic.

I waited until the sun set and the palace lanterns were lit. I wore my plain, dark green wool tunic and dark trousers from the North, tying my hair back tightly. I slipped out the back window of our pavilion, melting into the shadows of the cherry blossom trees.

Nine years of avoiding Uncle Kenji’s drunken wrath had made my footsteps completely silent. I knew how to stick to the blind spots. The Imperial Guards were highly trained, but they were lazy. They relied entirely on their magical wards to do the watching for them.

I slipped past a patrol of two guards, holding my breath behind a stone lantern, and finally reached the heavy oak doors of the Archives.

The doorway was covered by a shimmering, translucent yellow barrier. It looked like a wall of solid sunlight.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I swallowed hard, raised my hand, and pushed my fingers against the glowing barrier.

Nothing happened. No alarms. No sparks.

My hand passed right through it like it was nothing but warm air. Because I had no magical core, the high-tier onmyodo ward simply didn’t register my existence. I was completely invisible to the spell.

I pushed through the barrier and slipped inside, gently pulling the heavy door shut behind me.

The Archives were massive. Towering shelves of cedar stretched into the darkness, packed with thousands of bamboo slips, parchment scrolls, and leather-bound ledgers. The air smelled of old paper and dust.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I just knew the Emperor wanted Akira for his yokai core, and there had to be a record of his ritual or his reasoning somewhere.

I hurried down the center aisle, my soft shoes making no sound on the floorboards. I bypassed the sections labeled Taxation and Agriculture and headed straight for the back, where a set of iron-barred cabinets sat behind an intricate desk.

The label on the cabinet read: Imperial Lineage & Royal Decrees.

"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Let’s see what Uncle Shirakawa is hiding."

The iron cabinet was locked with a heavy padlock. I pulled a simple iron hairpin from my sash, a trick I had learned to break into the Divination Bureau’s pantry. I wiggled it into the keyhole, feeling for the tumblers. Click. The heavy iron door swung open with a quiet squeak.

Inside were dozens of black scrolls, each sealed with the golden wax of the Sun Crest.

I reached out, my fingers brushing the smooth parchment—

Clack. Clack. Clack. My blood froze.

Footsteps. Heavy boots echoing on the polished wood floor. And they were coming from the front entrance.

"I left the ledger on the central desk," a deep, annoyed voice echoed through the massive room.

"Make it quick, Lord Scribe," another voice grumbled. "The barrier resets at the top of the hour."

Panic seized my chest. I couldn’t fight two grown men, and if they caught me, the Emperor would have his perfect excuse to execute me for treason.

I didn’t have time to read titles. I didn’t have time to carefully search.

I blindly grabbed three of the thickest black scrolls from the restricted cabinet and shoved them down the front of my tunic, securing them tightly against my chest with my sash. I quietly pushed the iron cabinet door shut, not risking the click of the padlock.

The glow of a lantern appeared at the end of the aisle. The scribe was walking straight toward me.

I frantically looked around. There was nowhere to hide behind the desk. But above me, a small, open ventilation window sat near the vaulted ceiling.

I jumped onto the desk, my soft shoes making barely a sound. I grabbed the top edge of the tall cedar bookshelf and pulled myself up. My arms screamed in protest, hauling firewood in the North had made me strong, but I was shaking with pure adrenaline.

I scrambled to the top of the shelf just as the lantern light washed over the desk below.

I pressed my body flat against the dusty wood, holding my breath until my lungs burned.

The scribe paused at the desk below me. He hummed quietly, picking up a stray ledger. I could see the top of his head. If he looked up, he would see me instantly. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Don’t look up. Please don’t look up.

"Got it!" the scribe called out, turning his back. "Let’s go."

I didn’t exhale until I heard the heavy front doors close and the barrier hum back to life.

My entire body was trembling. I had the scrolls, but that was way too close. I dragged myself toward the ventilation window, squeezed through the narrow wooden slats, and dropped out into the cool night air.

I had to get back to the East Palace before Akira realized I was gone. And I had to figure out exactly what I had just stolen.

[Lady Renge’s POV]

The Western Pavilion was a gilded tomb.

It was located in the furthest, darkest corner of the Imperial Palace. The wood was unpolished, the silk curtains were faded, and the servants rarely bothered to sweep the verandas. This was where the Emperor sent his forgotten mistakes to rot out of sight.

I walked slowly down the dim corridor, my face a carefully constructed mask of calm.

I wore plain, faded gold silk. I walked with a slight hunch. At the tea party today, I had let Kiku treat me like a wounded dog. I let her parade her son’s new status in my face. I let her think I was broken by my son’s disgrace.

Kiku was a loud, arrogant fool. Let her make the noise. The loudest bird in the garden was always the first to be shot.

I reached the heavy wooden doors at the end of the hall. I didn’t knock. I slid them open and stepped inside.

The room reeked of cheap rice wine and unwashed sweat. The paper screens were torn. Empty clay jugs littered the tatami mats.

Sitting in the center of the mess, clutching a half-empty jug, was Ryu.

The former Crown Prince of the Empire looked completely pathetic. His hair was a greasy, tangled mess. The bandages wrapping his right arm, the arm the Forbidden Edict had nearly chewed off, were stained and desperately needed changing.

He looked up, his bloodshot eyes widening in the dim light.

"Mother?" Ryu gasped, his voice cracking wildly. He scrambled to his knees, dropping the wine jug. It shattered on the floor, but he didn’t care. "Mother, you are here! I... I thought you wouldn’t come. I thought you abandoned me too."

He crawled toward me like a beaten dog, his uninjured hand reaching out to grasp the hem of my faded gold robes.

"Please," Ryu wept, tears streaming down his pale, sickly face. "You have to talk to Father. You have to make him understand! Jin set me up! That demon Akira set me up! I was only trying to protect the throne! Tell the Emperor I can still be useful! Beg him for me, Mother, please!"

I looked down at the boy weeping at my feet.

I didn’t feel pity. I felt absolute, sickening disgust.

I raised my hand, the heavy jade rings on my fingers catching the faint moonlight.

SMACK.

The sound of my palm striking his cheek echoed like a whip-crack in the silent room.

The force of the blow threw Ryu violently to the floor. He gasped, clutching his rapidly bruising face, staring up at me in pure, horrified shock.

"M-Mother?" he whimpered.

"Stop crying," I commanded, my voice completely devoid of the trembling weakness I had faked at the tea party. My tone was pure ice. "You sound like a peasant."

Ryu scrambled backward, pressing his back against the wall.

"You unleashed a Forbidden Edict on a frozen lake without a tether," I said coldly, looking down at him. "You allowed yourself to be outsmarted by a half-breed and humiliated by Jin. You lost the Sun Crest because you are a weak, impulsive idiot. The Emperor will never give you the title back. You are a dead end, Ryu."

"No!" Ryu choked, fresh tears spilling over his red cheek. "I am your son! You have to help me!"

"I spent twenty years building your path to the throne," I hissed, taking a step closer, my eyes narrowing. "I smiled at that monster Shirakawa. I poisoned my rivals. I ensured you had the finest tutors and the strongest mages. And you threw it all away because you couldn’t control your own pathetic temper."

I knelt down gracefully, my silk pooling around me. I grabbed him by the chin, forcing his terrified eyes to meet mine.

"You are useless to me now," I whispered softly.

Ryu let out a pathetic, broken sob.

I released his chin and stood back up, smoothing out my robes.

"But the board is not cleared yet," I murmured, turning my back to him and looking out the torn paper window toward the glittering lights of the central palace. "Jin thinks he has won. Kiku thinks she has won. And the Emperor thinks he can control the Warlord with a title."

I thought of the feral, practical girl with the iron fan who had shattered Kiku’s table today.

Kitsune. The anomaly. The weakness the Emperor was trying to exploit.

"The game has simply changed," I said, a slow, calculating smile curving my lips. "If my son cannot sit on the Chrysanthemum Throne... then I will just have to make sure no one else’s son does either. I must change my strategy."

"Mother, what are you going to do?" Ryu whispered from the floor, trembling.

I didn’t look back at him. I walked toward the sliding doors.

"I am going to let Kiku and Jin dig their own graves," I replied smoothly. "And then, I am going to push them in. But before that...Akira."

I slid the door shut, leaving my useless son in the dark.