Amelia folded her hands atop the table, fingers interlaced in a gesture both elegant and firm. Her golden eyes remained calm, but the tension in her shoulders was barely concealed. She had dealt with diplomats, generals, even gods-in-flesh… but Naoko Rotschi was something else entirely.
"A strategic union," Amelia echoed softly. "That's what you called it. But I'd like to hear your true intentions, Naoko. Not just the political script."
Naoko tilted her head slightly, as though mildly entertained.
"The truth?" she said, her silver eyes gleaming faintly. "Very well. My son is powerful. His bloodline—refined. My legacy—undeniable. Yet power unanchored is volatile. I need stability for him. Not affection. Not love. *Structure.*"
Amelia raised a brow. "And you believe Rina can offer that structure?"
"She is your daughter," Naoko replied without hesitation. "Disciplined. Trained. Fire tempered with duty. That's more than enough."
There was a pause.
The air between them felt suddenly heavier. Rina sat quietly, her gaze low, her breath slow. Leona didn't speak—she knew better than to interrupt two lions in the midst of circling.
Amelia's expression didn't shift, but her voice lowered, growing sharper.
"You speak of legacy and control, yet you offer no affection. Do you not fear he will grow to resent you? That your son might reject this engagement entirely?"
Naoko leaned back slightly, her fingers curling around the armrest of her chair. "He will not."
"You sound certain."
"I am."
There was something final in her tone—an edge of godlike assurance that made even Amelia pause.
"Because he was raised to obey?" Amelia asked, her tone more brittle now.
"No," Naoko said simply, "because he understands."
"Understands what?"
Naoko's lips curved, just faintly.
"That the world was never built for people like him to love freely."
Silence again.
A long, slow breath escaped Amelia's lips. She studied Naoko carefully, like one might examine a blade too beautiful to ignore and too sharp to touch.
"And Rina?" she asked finally. "Do you expect her to understand as well?"
Naoko turned her eyes toward the girl in question.
Rina felt the gaze settle on her like a cold wind.
"I do not expect her to love him," Naoko said. "Nor do I demand it. But I expect her to see the truth of him. That is more valuable than love."
Amelia's voice grew quieter. "You truly are merciless."
Naoko smiled. "No, Amelia. I'm *honest*."
Then she turned her face fully toward Rina.
"When you look at him… what do you see?"
The question was sudden. Heavy. Personal.
Rina blinked, unprepared. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She wasn't sure how to answer. Not truthfully. Not here.
She remembered crimson eyes in the darkness of a kitchen. The quiet way he poured her tea. The sharpness in his voice when he said: *You'll never have to worry about me touching you.*
She remembered pain, silence, and sadness masked by playfulness.
"…I don't know," she whispered.
Naoko studied her, but said nothing more.
Amelia exhaled softly and rose from her seat. "This engagement," she said, smoothing her crimson cloak, "will proceed. But only if both parties remain willing."
Naoko stood as well, her tall figure composed and imperial. "Agreed."
They faced each other once more—two women forged from ar, sacrifice, and unyielding pride.
Neither bowed.
Neither blinked.
And somewhere in the distance of vast obsidian halls, a bell chimed.