𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑪𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 |니키˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

1.0🦢

Japan; Okayama; Nishimura Manor; 10-5-2026

As the night deepened, I remained where Riki had left me, my pulse gradually slowing as the weight of the moment subsided. The mansion was eerily quiet, every shadow in the hallway seemingly stretching out like dark tendrils, reminding me of just how far I'd come in this mission—and how much further I still had to go. I pushed the unsettling encounter with Riki to the back of my mind and focused on the task at hand. The game I was playing was far from over.

After regaining my composure, I quickly moved to the east wing of the mansion, the section where the Nishimura family kept their most prized possessions. Artifacts. Secrets. The legacy of power. Somewhere within these walls was the key to understanding the Dragon's Tear. And with Kento Nishimura gone, the balance of power had shifted. Riki wasn't the only person I had to keep an eye on—his stepbrother, Kenji, was just as dangerous in his own way.

Kenji had been quieter during dinner, playing the role of the reasonable sibling, the mediator. But I'd seen glimpses of something more beneath his calm exterior—a calculated ambition, a hunger for power that matched Riki's ruthlessness. He wasn't satisfied being in his brother's shadow, and that could either be my downfall or my salvation.

The corridor opened into the gallery where the Nishimura family displayed their ancient relics. Large windows overlooked the sprawling garden, bathed in moonlight. But it wasn't the beauty of the scene that caught my attention—it was the silence. Too quiet. Even in the middle of the night, there was always a faint hum of security, the subtle shifting of guards, the click of footsteps. But now? Nothing.

I approached the glass case where the Katana of the Rising Sun was displayed. The same katana Riki had once threatened me with. The blade gleamed under the dim lighting, a symbol of the Nishimura clan's power—now imbued with the blood of Kento Nishimura. My mind raced, thinking of the duel that had sealed Riki's position at the head of the family. The stories I had heard about the Nishimura traditions whispered of duels fought with this very blade to determine the true heir, and the winner was required to deliver a clean, honorable death to the loser.

But Riki? He hadn't been merciful. The rumors said he had struck his father down without hesitation, the katana cutting through flesh with precision, leaving no room for redemption or last words. The cold brutality of that act spoke volumes about who Riki really was—and how dangerous it would be to get too close. But it also meant something more. The Katana of the Rising Sun wasn't just a family relic; it was a weapon that held ancient power, a force that was tied to the Dragon's Tear itself. And if I was going to survive this mission, I had to uncover the truth behind it.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't hear the soft click of the door behind me until it was too late. Turning quickly, my heart skipped a beat as I saw Kenji stepping into the gallery, his eyes fixed on the katana.

"Moran," he said softly, closing the door behind him. "I thought I might find you here."

I swallowed, quickly masking the tension that had crept into my posture. "I couldn't sleep," I replied, offering a faint smile. "There's something about this room that draws me in."

Kenji's gaze lingered on the katana, his expression thoughtful. "It's a beautiful weapon, isn't it? The craftsmanship is unparalleled. But it's also dangerous, a symbol of the power that has ruled our family for generations." He paused, turning his eyes toward me. "A power that now rests in Riki's hands."

There was a weight in his words, a subtle challenge hidden beneath the surface. Kenji wasn't just talking about the katana—he was testing me, probing to see where my loyalties lay. I had to tread carefully.