The house was a tomb.
Seiji sat in the darkness of his room, the only light the pale glow of his monitor. He could feel the amulet pressed against his chest, a steady hum pulsing through him.
He replayed the events in his mind, over and over.
The thrill. The power. The complete surrender in Yumi's eyes. Her silent capitulation.
On the way back to his room after brushing his teeth, she met him in the corridor. She just put her hands on his chest, and kissed him.
It wasn't a peck. It was a "thank you" that melted into something deeper.
The kiss went long enough for him to feel her body shudder under the thin nightshirt as she pressed against him. When she finally pulled back, her eyes glimmered, dark and longing.
The amulet didn't just make people want Seiji—it made them need him. Made them instinctively pledge their loyalty. Their dependence on him was as inevitable as the tide.
"This is just the beginning," he whispered.
And it all came from his grandfather.
The letter.
Seiji pulled the cream-colored note from his desk drawer. The heavy paper felt luxurious, cold between his fingers. He ran his thumb over the sharp, commanding script.
"And when you're ready, follow the paths I left behind."
The words felt weighty. Their authority was way beyond ink and paper.
He lifted the note to the light of the screen, examining it. The paper was unlike anything he'd ever touched—thick, textured, sensual.
And then he saw it.
A watermark. Barely visible unless you tilted it at the right angle, hidden in plain sight. A crest—a phoenix with wings spread wide, claws gripping a single, perfect pearl.
A phoenix. And a pearl.
This wasn't just a letter.
It was a mark. A signature. A brand.
Not the legacy of some random rich man. This was lineage. His lineage.
He would follow it.
Seiji snapped a photo of the crest with his phone, zooming in until the edges blurred but the image stayed clear. He turned to his computer, his mind now sharp and focused.
He typed: "watermark specialists," "antique paper analysis."
The results were mixed.
University professors. High-end art restoration services. The odds were slim—just a needle in a haystack.
He saved the list of names and addresses.
One of them was close. Close enough to reach on foot.
He checked the map. The little red pin on the screen glowed like a dare.
For the first time in his life, Seiji had a real mission. He was heading somewhere. And for the first time, he wasn't scared.
Seiji nodded, solemnly.
He wasn't just a boy with a magic amulet.
He was a man stepping onto a roadmap—one someone had laid out for him. Maybe even before he was born.
A blueprint.
A beginning.