The Akabane Clan’s zen estate garden was a sanctuary of eerie stillness. Pale moonlight spilled through the meticulously pruned maples, their crimson leaves casting elongated shadows across the raked gravel. The night air was thick with the scent of sandalwood incense, a futile attempt to mask the underlying aura of spiritual unrest that clung to the estate like a lingering curse.

Seated on the wooden engawa, Keisuke let his golden-amber gaze drift over the koi pond’s glassy surface. The water reflected his image—scarlet hair tousled by the midnight breeze, sharp features cast in cold contemplation. The weight of the elders' decree pressed against his chest like an iron vice, suffocating, unrelenting.

He had heard them before. Whispers in the halls, murmurs during council meetings. He had ignored them then, dismissing them as desperate attempts to further ensure Akai’s dominion over their bloodline. But after Akai’s unleashed fury that night—after its wrath had threatened to consume him from within—the elders had moved swiftly. Their reasoning was clear. A stronger vessel must be forged. And for that, their bloodline had to remain untainted. Cousins had married before. Even distant relatives. But this... this was the first time the clan had demanded a sibling union.

His grip tightened. A gust of wind rustled the trees, and in its whisper, he thought he heard Akai’s voice. “Why hesitate? She is yours, as you are mine.”

He ignored it. He always did.

It was not the idea of marriage that unsettled him. The Akabane had never placed value on love in such unions—marriage was duty, a function of legacy. He had been raised in that understanding, conditioned to accept it. But this?

A hushed exhale left his lips. The distant sound of a night cicada echoed in the silence. He should not have been surprised. His entire existence had been dictated by duty, by the ever-present whispers of their ancestors, by the burning gaze of Akai watching from the depths of his soul. What difference did it make if this was simply another burden to bear?

And yet, something within him stirred—a resentment he could not voice, a question he dared not ask. What of her? His sister had always walked the same cursed path, but this time... this time, it was different. The clan would take her choice, just as they had taken his. Had she accepted it? Or had the elders given her no space to refuse?

Keisuke rose to his feet. The hem of his crimson kimono rustled against the polished wood as he stepped off the engawa, moving toward the inner estate. The faint glow of lanterns flickered along the corridors, their warm light contrasting the cold detachment in his heart.

As he passed through the courtyard, his gaze landed on a cluster of kinmokusei (金木犀, Osmanthus flowers)—her favorite. Their golden-orange blossoms perfumed the air with a delicate, bittersweet fragrance, a scent that had lingered in the corners of their childhood. A fleeting moment of warmth in a world that had only ever demanded their sacrifice.

Plucking a small branch, he held it in his grasp, the soft petals brushing against his fingertips. Would she even want to see him? He dismissed the thought. It did not matter.

Steeling himself, Keisuke strode toward her private chamber. The wooden halls of the estate felt suffocating tonight, the walls heavy with unseen eyes—elders, spirits, ancestors, all watching, all waiting. His footsteps were near soundless as he came to a halt before her door.

“Come. We need to talk.” His voice was deep, steady, yet lacking its usual detachment. He rarely sought her out without reason, and they both knew it. A pause. Then, softer this time, he spoke again. “The elders have made their decision. About our... future.”