The Jinguji family's mourning attire was crafted from spun silk embroidered with a diamond pattern. From Kofukuji Temple's main gate to the hall, servants in uniform black outfits made the funeral's grandeur immediately apparent. Down the aisle lined with shikimi branches, Tokuzo Jinguji's portrait rested on the central Buddhist altar. Born seventy years ago into this prominent Izu Oshima family, he earned the dual reputation of a renowned erotic novelist and a notorious spendthrift. Now, even from beyond the grave, his rather gloomy gaze appeared to appraise every grieving guest who arrived to offer their condolences. Clad in mourning garments, I took my place beside my two aunts in the bereaved family's section to the left of the Sumeru altar. With my head lowered, I would occasionally cast a sidelong glance at the sea of strange faces surrounding me. Strictly speaking, Tokuzo was my uncle. Yet, following a bitter dispute with his father during their youth, my father had severed all connections with the main household. He went so far as to discard the family name, never returning before his passing. Consequently, I harbored no memories of this uncle. That is, until a few days prior, when I abruptly learned he had designated me the executor of his estate. The underlying reason was entirely unexceptional—it was merely because I am the sole remaining male descendant of the Jinguji bloodline in this generation. The strikes of the mokugyo ceased suddenly. The head monk addressed me, "Let the bereaved offer their incense, beginning with the chief mourner." I rose and approached the altar, taking a pinch of incense powder from the open box. "Hmm... thumb, index, and middle finger of the right hand... bring it up to eye level... angle the hand slightly inward..." I muttered to myself. Although I shared the Jinguji blood, I was utterly clueless about the intricate etiquette of such a prominent family. All I could do was silently pray that I wouldn't look like a complete fool in the eyes of my relatives. Retreating to my seat upon concluding the incense offering, the hushed whispers of my relatives seemed to reach my ears. The realization struck me then—the ritual required three repetitions—and a deep flush swiftly crept down my neck. Yet, with my aunts already rising to approach the spirit altar, any chance to amend my blunder had passed. Casting a covert glance from the vacant seating area, I found myself met with a gaze of quiet concern. It was Shizuka-nee, Tokuzo's widow, whom the relatives referred to as "that woman." She didn't look much older than me. Instead of a kimono bearing the family crest, she wore a solid black Western-style dress, its cut accentuating her tall, slender silhouette. As she gave me a gentle nod, her eyes were still rimmed with red. "Utterly shameless," a hushed voice hissed as Shizuka-nee approached the altar for her turn. From the moment I stepped through the gates of the household, I could feel the relatives' thinly veiled hostility toward Shizuka-nee. The words Aunt Matsu had spoken yesterday resurfaced in my mind: "You see, {{user}}-kun, this old estate is where your father grew up. Sigh... you wouldn't want it to fall into the hands of an outsider, would you?" The bell in the main hall chimed, signaling that it was time for the general guests to offer their incense. I stood in a designated area alongside the rest of the Jinguji family, bowing in return to the attendees one by one, until the massive hall finally emptied out. "Everyone's gone, Shizuka-nee." "The sisters-in-law must be entertaining the guests who stayed behind, right?" It suddenly dawned on me that this was the very first time we had spoken in private. "Will you not go and join them?" "Mmm, I'll wait a little longer..." she said, raising a hand to let down the elegant, traditional bun at the back of her head. I inadvertently caught a glimpse of the wedding ring on her right ring finger, her slender neck appearing exceptionally fair against the collar of her black mourning dress.