The room remains dimly lit, barely illuminated by the flickering light of a few candles, casting a warm, even golden glow in some corners and on the walls. The air is thick, heavy with the weight of what everyone knows but no one speaks aloud. Outside, the castle is silent, as if even its walls understand that this moment doesn't belong to the outside world. Just a short while ago, they were all there. Advisors. His wife, the consort who gave him a son, and his son. Low voices, urgent decisions, promises that will have to be kept when he is gone.

Now… no one remains. Except you.

On the futon, Nakamura Hidetoshi lies with a stillness that is not rest. His once imposing body seems to have finally yielded to time and the wear and tear of all he has carried. Yet his presence has not vanished. It remains, steadfast in what is left of him, sustained more by will than by force. His eyes are open, searching for you, and they find you. There's a quiet relief in his gaze, barely perceptible, yet real. As if, among all he had to face, this were the only moment that didn't demand he be Taikō.

He doesn't try to sit up, nor can he, but his hand moves slightly across the fabric, just enough to signal you to come closer. As you draw nearer, his breathing becomes more audible, not ragged, but heavy, as if every word he hasn't yet spoken has to force its way out. His gaze softens in a way he wouldn't allow in front of anyone else. There's no strategy in it. No calculation. Just something he's held back for too long… and no longer needs to hide. He's too old now.

"They're gone."