Another evening fell quietly upon Giramuzi. The sky bled in hues of fading orange and soft lilac, and the faint hum of cicadas filled the dusky air.
Inside his small cabin, Takao carefully arranged his herbs, the familiar scent of mint and mugwort soothing his tired thoughts — until the peace was shattered by the thunderous sound of boots.
The door flung open.
Two armored soldiers stood at the entrance, their faces devoid of emotion, their eyes sharp like drawn blades.
"Takao of Giramüzi," one of them barked, "by royal decree, you are hereby appointed as the Royal Doctor of Tsukiyomi Palace. You are to leave immediately."
Takao froze, the words sinking like stones in his chest.
"Appointed?" he repeated, confusion flashing across his face. "Without notice? Without consent? You barge into my cabin and—"
He didn't finish.
The second soldier stepped forward, his tone cold as steel.
"It is not a request, physician. Refusal will be treated as disobedience to His Majesty. And…" — he leaned closer, his breath chilling Takao's skin — "…you wouldn't want harm to come to your guardian, would you? Mizaki lives peacefully, does she not?"
Takao's pulse stopped. His fingers trembled slightly before he forced them still.
They didn't need to say more. The threat hung heavy in the air.
"Understood," he said quietly, his jaw tightening.
The soldiers turned sharply and left, the door slamming shut behind them — leaving silence far heavier than before.
The next morning dawned soft and gold. Mist rolled gently down the foothills where Mizaki's cottage lay nestled among whispering pines. Takao stood by her garden fence, his satchel slung over his shoulder, his face calm though his heart churned.
"Takao? So early?" Mizaki called out, her voice warm as she stepped out with a tray of tea.
He forced a smile, the kind that hurt his own cheeks.
"Mami… I came to tell you something."
Mizaki tilted her head curiously.
"What's wrong?"
"I've been… appointed as the Royal Doctor of Tsukiyomi Palace," he said, keeping his tone light. "They want me to serve the royal family and the soldiers stationed there."
Her face lit up instantly — pure pride in her eyes.
"Oh Takao! That's a great honour! Finally, your skill is being recognised by the kingdom itself. I'm so proud of you."
Takao smiled again, softer this time.
"Yes… honour."
But deep inside, his heart twisted. This wasn't an honour. It was a leash.
He looked at her — her gentle smile, her hands slightly wrinkled from years of care — and silently promised himself that he would endure whatever came, as long as she remained untouched.
By afternoon, the majestic spires of Tsukiyomi Palace rose before him, gleaming beneath the sun like an illusion of serenity. The grand gates opened with slow, echoing groans, and Takao stepped into the world he once swore he'd never enter again.
To his surprise, King Masanori awaited him at the marble steps, his presence commanding yet deceptively cordial.
"Ah, the healer of Giramüzi," Masanori greeted with a faint smile. "I've heard much about your skill. We are fortunate to have you serve the crown."
Takao bowed respectfully, hiding the storm brewing inside him.
"It is my honour, Your Majesty."
The words burned his tongue.
If he hadn't known better, he might have believed the king's warmth. But behind that polite welcome, Takao could feel another presence — the one truly pulling the strings.
He caught a glimpse of Rikuya, standing a few steps behind Masanori, dressed in immaculate blue, a faint smirk resting on his lips. Their eyes met for only a moment — but it was enough. The same venomous satisfaction in Rikuya's gaze told him everything.
This wasn't a promotion.
It was a trap.
And he was the bait.
Night descended swiftly upon the palace. The corridors glowed with dim lantern light, long shadows trailing across polished floors. Takao walked silently through the servants' aisle toward the small chamber assigned to him — a space cold, narrow, and far from the comfort of Giramüzi.
He placed his satchel down, trying to steady his thoughts when a knock echoed.
Before he could answer, the door creaked open.
Rikuya stood there, leaning casually against the frame, the same cruel grin stretching across his face. His presence filled the room like poison.
"Welcome to Tsukiyomi Palace, Doctor," he drawled mockingly. "I trust the journey wasn't too harsh?"
Takao glared, saying nothing. His silence only made Rikuya smile wider.
"You're sharper than most," Rikuya continued, circling the room slowly. "You must have realised by now — you weren't brought here to serve the palace."
He paused beside Takao, lowering his voice into a whisper that crawled beneath the skin.
"You were brought here to obey me."
Takao's fists clenched.
Rikuya leaned closer, his tone turning almost playful.
"And this time, Doctor… you'll help me again. For Nozomi."
Takao's breath hitched.
Rikuya's smile turned into a blade of satisfaction.
"No choice this time."
The door shut behind him, leaving Takao standing alone in the half-dark room, the faint echo of those words ringing in his ears like a curse.
And above the palace, the moon rose — pale and distant — as though silently watching the web tightening around them all.
The person he saw smiling through pain and rejection by his own subjects yesterday in the market, he was again threatened and forced to conspire against him...he felt sick but couldn't deny as his beloved mami was at risk...
As moon rose high above the palace, he lied and closed his eyes in exhaustion.