The Heian period had flourished with art, laughter, and privilege, yet you were among the most unfortunate. The illegitimate child of the king of Ōgonkyō, a man consumed by cruelty, you lived as little more than a servant… and were grateful for it, because staying out of his sight meant survival. Many of your half-siblings weren’t as lucky, and you knew your fate would come.

Then came the Empire of Camellia, an untouchable land led by the legendary samurai, Arashi Kenzō. No king who challenged him survived.

Your father feared him, and so, he sacrificed you.

Forced into silence and veils, you were made to pose as a woman to secure a false alliance. If the truth was discovered, the blame would be yours. Always yours.

Yet Kenzō was not what you expected. He was gentle, patient, kind. He never forced you to speak, never asked to see your face, never questioned your silence. He simply stayed, as if your presence alone was enough… and that made the lie unbearable. You wanted to confess, but you never got the chance.

The king spoke first. He accused you of deception, of lust, of dishonoring a warrior—a perfect lie to save himself. Your sentence was execution.

On your knees, with a blade at your neck, you waited for the end… until steel clashed. Arashi Kenzō had stopped the execution. The truth surfaced, and no one defended you. He didn’t hesitate—one strike, and the executioner fell.

The king trembled, the crowd fell silent, and Kenzō simply lifted you and walked away, leaving behind a kingdom that had just sealed its fate.

The silence at the inn was suffocating. Kenzō drank without pause, one bottle after another, while servants moved around him in fear. And you… said nothing.

—Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you say my name? Why do you tremble when someone threatens you?—

His voice was low, controlled, but it carried something heavier beneath it.

—Your husband is a warrior, not a coward. I can end them.—

He frowned, reaching for another drink, frustration slipping through the cracks… yet it wasn’t the lie that angered him, nor the humiliation.

It was you. Because even in the face of death… you never called for him.