Fog hung thick in the air.

The Red River, the great waterway to the north of Konkoku’s capital of Annei, shone as rosy as ever. Its name had been earned from the red clay that dissolved into the water from its banks.

Summer’s warmth remained in the deep layers of the earth and turned the previous night’s rain into the morning’s mist. It rolled off of the Red River.

The air was so impenetrably white, one couldn’t be sure of what laid a few steps away. The morning sun had begun to reveal the thick blanket of fog, but from within, one could hardly be sure they were still in the land of the living, much less make out the rising sun.

A fisherman awakened in his little hovel beside the river. When he left his home and was greeted by the impenetrable wall of fog, he quickly gave up on fishing for the day. As he wondered when the mist might fade away, he stretched and stared out into the barrier of white. He thought he could hear something strange out in the mist. It was a low, groaning noise.

The man wondered what it could be, and as he strained his eyes to see through the haze, he was able to see that part of the fog was swirling. Amidst the swirl, he caught the occasional glimpse of silver.

The fisherman shivered. There was something massive beyond that veil of mist.

A strange sound was coming from the river as well, as if something immense was working its way slowly down the stream. It was accompanied by the groan of timber.

Something’s off.

It felt different from the usual morning fog.

The fisherman’s seven-year-old son came out of the hovel to join his father.

“What are you looking at, papa?” the boy asked while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The fisherman reflexively clutched his son’s shoulder. They both looked out into the mist.

“Not quite sure what I’m looking at. Not sure what I’m hearing either.”

“What do you mean, papa?”

“Something’s happening.”

Fall, 103rd year of Konkoku’s history.

Lord Ho Shusei had raised the banner of war in hopes of forcing Ryu Shohi, fifth emperor of Konkoku, to abdicate. However, with the aid of the prefectural armies and Saisakoku, the emperor crushed the rebellion.

The Chief General of the Imperial Army lost his life in the ensuing battle. The Minister of Justice fled but was quickly pursued. When the minister found himself cornered, he threw himself off a cliff before he could be apprehended.

Ho Neison, former lord of the Ho House, poisoned himself upon learning of the defeat.

Ho Shusei, the mastermind behind the insurrection, was captured immediately after the battle and taken to the imperial palace where he would face the emperor’s judgment.

All other officials who participated in the uprising or listed their names on the Letter of Compact were purged from office. Chancellor Shu Kojin was relentless in prosecuting them, leading to a sharp reduction in the number of available bureaucrats. Most of the offending bureaucrats came from noble families. To replace them, provincial officials working beneath the prefectural administrators were called upon. Chancellor Shu also moved forward the examinations for new bureaucrats so a large number of exceptional citizens could be recruited.

As a result of the rebellion, the Ho House, which had previously sat equally with the Ryu House, was stripped of its royal status. The entire house was relocated to the remote northern prefecture of Kyo. The Ho House had been effectively dismantled.

This war came to be called the Ho Rebellion.

With the Ho Rebellion stopped, Shohi, Kojin, and the ministers worked tirelessly. It would be three months before politics and life around the palace returned to normal.

Fall had passed, and the first flakes of snow were beginning to fall.

There was one final duty to carry out before the emperor could officially announce that the Ho Rebellion was a thing of the past: the execution of the insurrectionist, Lord Ho Shusei.

As the mixture started thickening even more, it began taking on a tinge of yellow. Slowly but surely, the sugar turned amber, and a sweet aroma filled the air.

“Your Majesty, would you please stop stirring for a little while? I will add the tree nuts,” Rimi said.

She tipped the sack of tree nuts into the roasting pan.

“Would you please mix it all together?” Rimi asked.

Shohi quickly did as he was instructed.

“That should be enough,” Rimi said after about two stirs. “Would you take the pan off the heat, please?”

Shohi removed the pan and brought it to the table.

“I’m supposed to pour this onto the plate, no?” Shohi asked.

“That’s correct. This plate, please.”

The emperor poured the amber liquid, dotted with white, brown, yellow, and red tree nuts, onto the flat, white plate. The thick mixture spread across the plate. After it hardened, they would finish the mixture by crushing it into pieces. Tonight was chilly; only half an hour was needed for the candy to harden.

“You made this beautifully, Your Majesty.” Rimi smiled.

She’d been quietly at Shohi’s side, watching over him to see if he was following the proper steps, and he had done so diligently. It was well-made, and the color was magnificent. It was aromatic and likely tasted sweet.

“This is all I can do for him,” Shohi muttered as he looked down at the amber liquid. His voice conveyed how powerless he felt.

“It’s all you can do, but it’s also the best thing you could’ve done,” Rimi said, shaking her head.

As she stared straight at him, they silently locked eyes.

“Is it really the best?” he asked anxiously.

“It is,” Rimi replied with a firm, confident nod.

“If you say so, then I suppose it must be true,” the emperor said with a smile.

Chapter 6: Kissing Death

I

Rihan.

Keiyu thought to himself in a daze as he heard the rustling of fabric and footsteps approaching.

The Minister of Revenue’s stride was fairly large but always in a bit of a hurry. However, Keiyu found it troublesome to move. For the past month, he’d been battling the freezing cold and had since lost feeling in his toes and fingertips. Recently, he felt his senses growing duller. He continued to lie on his bed with his back to the iron bars.

The footsteps stopped in front of his cell.

“I’ve brought tian zhou, Keiyu.”

Did he really? As upright as ever, I see.

Keiyu got up wearily. He’d been fed up with prison food. Since he was going to die anyway, it seemed meaningless to eat. He didn’t have much of an appetite or desire to eat. But as a living organism, he couldn’t completely discard his primal urge for food as it piqued his interest.

There was a gap between the iron bars for providing food to the prisoners. Rihan slid the platter of congee across the stone floor. He placed his candle on the ground and sat cross-legged next to it.

Keiyu got off his bed and kneeled in front of the platter. The bowl’s lid was warm to the touch, and the heat transferred through his cold, numb fingertips. He opened the lid with his still-numb fingers as the steam of the congee wafted toward him.

“Eat,” Rihan encouraged.

Keiyu had lost his appetite, but he found himself tempted to eat. He wasn’t hungry as much as he was desperate to touch something warm. He took a spoon and a serving bowl and ladled his share. He noticed an extra spoon and bowl.

“Give me my share too,” Rihan said haughtily once he’d seen Keiyu gazing at the additional set of tableware.

“Are you going to eat too?” Keiyu asked, looking up.

The Minister of Revenue nodded as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

“I have to take away your finished meal anyway. It seems foolish to just watch you eat.”

“I didn’t think you’d try to take food from a prisoner.”

“I had the food prepared. I won’t hear any complaints.”

Finding no reason to decline, Keiyu ladled another portion, placed a spoon inside the bowl, and slid it to the other side of the bars. His hands had warmed up while doing so.

“Why did you choose something so bland?” Rihan asked.

“There’s no deep meaning behind it. You simply asked what I wanted, and I immediately wished for something warm is all,” Keiyu answered with a shrug.

He’d correlated warming his body up with eating tian zhou. Rihan brought the spoon to his lips first. After a bite, he frowned.

“It’s tasteless,” he said.

“Your Majesty,” the cuisinologist murmured.

“Trust me, Shusei,” Shohi implored him. “Trust in the emperor that you gambled everything upon. If you are unable to have faith in me, it would make you into an even greater buffoon for betting all that you could on a man who you cannot even trust.”

Shusei’s face contorted with frustration.

“Should word get out that a body double was executed instead of me, it will be all over for you, Your Majesty. Don’t you understand that?”

“I don’t think you have to worry too much about that,” Jotetsu chimed in. His arms were folded in front of him as he spoke with confidence. “There’s no proof that the man executed wasn’t the master of the Ho House. However, many will testify that the man was indeed the head of the Ho House. The guardsmen who escorted the prisoner to the execution area would likely confirm that they saw the head of the Ho House, and the prison records document the same claims. They state that above all else, the man’s beautiful fingers and mannerisms could only be expressed by one born into the nobility.”

“Who was sacrificed in his stead?” Rimi asked, unable to help herself.

It was difficult to imagine that Shohi would kill a completely innocent man, but prisoners were usually commoners, and it’d be difficult for them to mimic the mannerisms of the nobility.

“Ah, the Minister of Rites, Jin Keiyu,” Jotetsu replied.

Rimi and Shusei were stunned. Jotetsu, who’d caught on to the questions the two probably had, filled them in.

“Last night, the Minister of Revenue suddenly came to visit His Majesty, relaying the message that Jin Keiyu wanted Shusei to be spared. He said that he’d be the sacrifice in Shusei’s stead.”

The Minister of Rites? Why?

Keiyu was a man who acted for an odd reason: he wanted to see others suffer. After Rimi’s feelings were shaken up, her mind was thrown into confusion, unable to process what she had just heard. She simply couldn’t keep up with it all.

“Why me?” Shusei asked.

“It appears Keiyu overheard the conversation between you and Rimi, and he decided to save you,” Shohi said, dangerously close to Shusei. It looked as though the emperor would bite the cuisinologist’s nose off at any moment. “Rihan said that technically, Keiyu didn’t want to spare you, but the Minister of Rites told him, ‘There’s no way I’ll let Shusei die.’ With your own death, this series of events would’ve ended just as planned. Keiyu said that he would like to get in the way of all that. It angered him that you would die with satisfaction about completing your plan. At the very end, he wanted you to fail. He didn’t want you to attain a perfect victory and apparently stated that since you had obstructed him, he wanted to get the last laugh.”

“Impossible,” Shusei muttered. “How could allowing me to live give him the last laugh?”

“I don’t think life or death mattered to that man. He was simply infuriated that you would attain a perfect victory,” Jotetsu said with a frown.

“But if you were to agree to the Minister of Rites’s plans, surely it would only threaten His Majesty’s reign?”

“The Minister of Revenue covered that for us,” Jotetsu answered. “The execution would occur on the first, so all the guardsmen of the prison would be rotated out the night before. The minister had swapped out a few reports that transferred the duties to the next set of guards. One of the prisoners confined in the underground prison has no name. The other is Ho Shusei, master of the Ho House. The new guards read this report, followed it accordingly, and escorted the Minister of Rites as the head of the Ho House. They would be the witnesses that led the master of the Ho House to the execution area.”

Ah, because the timing was at the beginning of the new month.

The new set of guards would review the report and conduct their duties as instructed. Because they believed the report, there was no room for doubt. Guards tasked with maintaining the prison never had any contact with higher-ranked officials; if the prisoner in question acted with aristocratic grace, they wouldn’t grow suspicious.

“At the execution, the Minister of Revenue claimed that the prisoner was indeed Ho Shusei. The executioner and the guardsmen present were specifically chosen—they were all newly recruited to the imperial guards from a remote unit. They were originally chosen because if any of them were related to the Ho House or familiar with officials in the Letter of Compact, they might hinder the execution process, but I suppose that ultimately worked in our favor,” Jotetsu explained. “None of them knew the face of the Minister of Rites or yours, for that matter, and would only testify that the executed man had beautiful hands, skin, and elegant mannerisms that were befitting for a nobleman. The displayed head was immediately carried away by someone as well.”

Jotetsu grinned.

“There were quite a few people below the grand gates trying to catch a glimpse of the execution,” he added, “but they were a good distance away and could only tell that a man of nobility had been executed. I doubt any of them properly saw the face of the person.”

If a different prisoner was used as a sacrifice, the one who captured them and the guards would know that the wrong person was being dragged out in Shusei’s place. They would grow suspicious and start to look into it. In addition, if the executed man didn’t look like a nobleman to the guardsmen, it would only arouse further doubt. These small seeds of mistrust would lead to one’s downfall. If Keiyu was the sacrifice, all of that could be prevented.

To protect the honor of the Jin House, it had never been publicly reported that Keiyu had been arrested. Even if a nameless prisoner had disappeared from their cell, no one would know their true identity. Keiyu had committed suicide by ingesting poison, and Rihan had buried his body. Indeed, his body was there, and it had received a proper burial. All that was needed was to skillfully hide the fact that the head and body were separated.

The last laugh to make sure Master Shusei’s plan wasn’t a complete success...

Was that really it? Though Keiyu’s mindset seemed difficult for a normal person to comprehend, one couldn’t help but think he had a hidden motive lurking somewhere.

“I didn’t mindlessly think of saving you,” Shohi murmured, apparently having calmed himself down. “I thought that I had to execute you. Even if I knew everything, as you’d stated, had I tried to clumsily fool the public and foil your plans, I’d essentially be stomping all over your feelings. I had steeled myself. Without Keiyu’s final act, I would’ve executed you. When Keiyu made his proposal, I thoroughly looked it over, calmly assessed my choices, and decided it’d be best if I utilized it. Hence, I made my move. However, as you’re a foolish man who did something absolutely asinine, I cannot keep you by my side. I shall exile you from my empire.”

“Your Majesty,” Shusei started.

“Have faith in my decision. I command you, Shusei. You must live.” Shohi tightly gripped Shusei’s collar and ordered, “I want you to live.”

Shohi stared straight at Shusei.

“Your Majesty, I...” The cuisinologist’s kind eyes grew damp as his voice trembled.

“Do you accept me as the emperor?”

“I do.”

“Do you believe that I am worthy of my title?”

“I do.”

“Then trust my decision. Believe in the emperor that you put your faith in.” Shohi emanated an air of dignity and asked, “Do you believe in me?”

A single tear rolled down Shusei’s cheek.

“I do,” Shusei responded firmly with a small nod.

Master Shusei is... He’s...

Rimi had never seen Shusei’s tears before.

Shusei had learned the truth of his own birth and agonized over it. He had expressed his melancholy when he thought about the threat his origin posed to Shohi’s reign and the future of Konkoku. Though his decisions were levelheaded, he undoubtedly felt fear and sorrow that simply couldn’t be suppressed. But his emotions all started to melt away with Shohi’s words. Because the words came from the emperor, Shusei’s master, they left a deep impression on his heart.

Shohi released Shusei’s collar from his grip, removed his knee from the bed, and turned to Rimi.

“Rimi,” he said.

The consort, still in a daze, took a moment to respond.

“Yes?”

“I’ll inform you of one more thing,” Shohi said. “I told you that I’d reconsider your position, and I’ve finally come to a decision. The Mikado of Wakoku desires Setsu Rimi, a lady in relation to Kojin. I shall act accordingly and send you to Wakoku.”

Rimi could hardly believe those words, her mind going blank.

Wakoku?

“It must be disheartening for you to head to a foreign nation alone. Take that man with you as an attendant,” Shohi continued, pointing to Shusei.

“Huh?” the cuisinologist murmured.

“The waves of the open seas shall grow calmer in the spring. You two should go to Wakoku then.”

“But Your Majesty, I’ve been sent to assist you from Wakoku. You were the one who gave me a place here, and I’d like to stay by your side and be of use to you,” Rimi replied hastily, but Shohi raised his hand to stop her.

“If you truly would like to be of use to me, then I’d like for you to go to Wakoku with this man, who I admire as my older brother, and allow him to live.”

I see. Even if someone else was executed in Master Shusei’s stead, if word gets out that he’s actually alive, the elaborate plan would fall apart.

For that, Shusei needed to head to a foreign nation and stay there forever. It was best to avoid nations that had frequent exchanges with Konkoku, such as the Southern Trinity and Saisakoku. While Wakoku depended on Konkoku, it was separated by the sea, making it the perfect fit. Shohi was worried about sending Shusei alone across the vast sea and had thus requested for Rimi to tag along. However, this meant the emperor would lose both of them all at once.

“Are you sure about this, Your Majesty?” Rimi asked.

Shohi forced a laugh.

“I have plenty of people I can trust. Should one or two leave my side to live in a faraway land, it won’t be lonesome for me one bit. Will you accept the offer, Rimi?”

As Shohi gazed straight into Rimi’s eyes, he didn’t express any anxiety. His quiet and composed demeanor exuded an aura of grace. Clearly, he was making this offer after much contemplation.

It was as though the emperor was silently forcing her to follow his orders and wouldn’t accept any complaints. She couldn’t fight back.

“If...that is what you truly desire, Your Majesty, I shall,” Rimi finally replied.

“Of course. It is what I desire.”

Upon hearing his voice, Rimi instinctually bowed her head and wanted to follow his order.

“Then I shall accept, Your Majesty.”

Chapter 7: Because There’s Only a Single Flower

I

I feel like I’m dreaming.

A pale glow of light illuminated the room behind Rimi. She stood in front of the handrail of the corridor and looked up at the night sky as specks of snow started to fall. The Jade Spring had frozen over and was buried in snow, making it seem like a snowy plain.

In the room behind her, Shohi, Jotetsu, and Shusei were quietly enjoying a drink and a feast. Rimi had taken a few sips of red wine, warming her body.

She had left the room, stating that she’d like to get a breath of fresh air. She still couldn’t process reality. She had agonized so much until now that she simply couldn’t believe her current situation.

“Setsu Rimi,” a voice said.

From beyond the corridor, To Rihan approached her.

“Minister of Revenue, what brings you here?” Rimi asked with a bow as she raised her head.

Rihan stood in front of her, wearing a fur coat that protected him against the snow. His appearance made him look bigger than usual.

“I was present for the execution today, so I was a bit curious about matters. I heard that His Majesty is here, so I decided to drop by,” Rihan said. He heard the quiet voice of Shusei from the room and then nodded slightly. “It seems all went well. That’s all I came here for. I shall be taking my leave.”

“Will you not go in?” Rimi asked.

“I don’t wish to be seen by His Majesty right now. Keep my visit here a secret.”

As he turned on his heels, Rimi stopped him.

“Um, Minister. Thank you. Had you not notified His Majesty last night...”

Rihan stood still and answered with his back still turned.

“I simply relayed a message as per his request. Keiyu was the one who did it.”

“Why did the Minister of Rites make that suggestion?”

When Rimi had heard Keiyu’s proposal, she’d felt that his motives were rather strange. Rihan kept his back turned and gazed toward the frozen Jade Spring.

“I haven’t a clue about his true thoughts, but if I were to guess... He might’ve wanted to manipulate others until the very end. He enjoyed manipulating people,” he answered.

“Manipulating?”

“With his proposal, in exchange for his life, he could manipulate His Majesty’s feelings and change the emperor’s resolve. Whether it be for good or evil, that man may have gotten a rush out of it all.”

He thought like that until the very end?

Rimi still couldn’t understand. Suddenly, Rihan turned around as though he’d remembered something.

“Ah, Setsu Rimi, I almost forgot. Keiyu said that he wanted to express his gratitude toward you. He said that your tian zhou was delicious.”

“His gratitude...” This came as a shock to her.

“That’s what he said. Now, I shall be taking my leave.”

As Rimi gazed at Rihan’s back vanishing into the distance, she suddenly came to a realization.

His gratitude?!

If Keiyu had heard Shusei’s admittance of the truth amidst the darkness, then surely he’d also heard Rimi’s voice of despair and everything else. Had that man truly wanted to send a word of satisfaction for his meal?

What if he conveyed his thanks in a different form?

Speckles of cold snow started to fall on the tip of her nose. No one truly knew why Keiyu had offered to be Shusei’s sacrifice. As Rihan had said, perhaps he really wanted the thrill of manipulating the emperor’s resolve. Perhaps, as Keiyu had stated himself, he wanted to ruin Shusei’s perfect plan. Or perhaps, just maybe, he unconsciously wanted to express his gratitude toward Rimi. The tian zhou that touched his lips may have changed something in his heart without him even knowing...

No one would ever know the true motives behind Keiyu’s actions.

“Rimi,” Shusei called as he came out of the room. “You’ve been out here for quite some time, so His Majesty was getting worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Rimi replied. “I suppose I was in a bit of a daze.”

“Were you with someone?”

Shusei stood by her side and noticed the footsteps remaining in the corridor.

“The Minister of Revenue was just here to confirm how you were, Master Shusei. He said he wasn’t in the mood to be seen by His Majesty and left. He also wanted to keep his visit a secret from him.”

“He was friends with the Minister of Rites, after all. Whatever the case, I’m sure the minister is experiencing his fair share of grief after watching his friend die right before his eyes.”

Light leaked from the room behind them and mixed with the flecks of snow. Rimi was reflecting upon her happiness as Shusei stood beside her. She would stay at the Palace of the Water Spirit until spring, secretly living with Shusei.

That afternoon, Shohi had all the handmaids and servants leave the palace to protect Shusei’s secret. Currently, only the guardsmen protecting the emperor were present, but even they were forbidden from approaching the manor where Shusei and Rimi would live. Almost all the lights of the Palace of the Water Spirit were out, and it was mostly quiet.

“I wonder if we really should follow His Majesty’s orders,” Shusei muttered as he looked at the Jade Spring surrounded by snow. “I accepted it all, but part of me still cannot agree to my life continuing. My own ambitions cornered Ho Neison to his death. The chief general and the Minister of Justice were backed into a corner as well, causing their deaths, and countless soldiers died. I feel it’s only a sin for me to continue living.”

I’m sure Master Shusei will be tormented by these thoughts throughout his entire life. That might be what the Minister of Rites had hoped for, allowing him to get the last laugh.

Keiyu was Shusei’s superior. If the former was aware of what tormented and agonized the latter, then the Minister of Rites may have been able to give a mocking smile, knowing that the cuisinologist would be faced with a lifetime of pain.

Shusei’s actions did indeed make him responsible for the lives lost as a result of his war. Rimi, Shohi, and Shusei were well aware of that. Despite that, Shohi had ordered Shusei to live. Shohi may have been aware that Shusei would be tormented by his actions for his entire life. It would be much longer than a quick, merciful death, and that would be the punishment the scholar would have to bear.

As the emperor, Shohi surely would’ve accounted for how Shusei would atone for the lives he’d taken. The emperor had once been prepared to kill Shusei; his decisions didn’t come from his emotions but from calmly assessing the situation.

“His Majesty made his choice. I believe we should simply follow it,” Rimi replied.

“Even regarding the orders he gave you?”

Rimi nodded silently.

“What feelings did His Majesty have when he said he’d let you go?” Shusei asked.

“I do not know. But it’s clearly a decision he came to after much contemplation.”

Shohi certainly must’ve thought long and hard about Rimi’s future. As such, his order would’ve benefited both him and Konkoku the most. If this was the best choice, then Rimi should obey it.

“I’m just a phantom,” Shusei commented. “Since I cannot stay alive in Konkoku, it’s only natural for me to leave this empire. But are you all right with leaving His Majesty’s side?”

“I am, as that is His Majesty’s order,” Rimi replied. “It’ll be a bit lonely is all. I’ll be bidding farewell to His Majesty, Master Hakurei, Master Jotetsu, the four consorts, Master Kyo Kunki, Chancellor Shu, Ryo Renka, and Tama. I don’t want to part with them, but it’s the order that I have received.”

When Rimi was in Wakoku as an Umashi-no-Miya, she barely had any contact with other people. She only dearly missed her Saigu sister, who she had not wanted to part ways with. In Konkoku, however, she had quite a few people that she would miss. Though their existence was seen as minuscule when compared to god, Rimi wanted to serve them regardless. Those people were dear to her.

“I got to meet many people, and they gave me a place here,” Rimi said. “When I first arrived at Konkoku, had I not met you, Master Shusei, His Majesty surely would’ve taken my head.”

Thinking back, had the maids not been bewildered by Rimi, who was trying to enter the rear palace with a kaorizuke pot in hand, and called for Shusei, she wouldn’t be alive. Because she met him back then, he protected and prevented her from being beheaded. Because she met Tama in the kitchen, she could serve Shohi and stay by his side, allowing her to glean the true nature of the emperor. Rimi was only able to meet Tama thanks to Hakurei. Whatever he had schemed from the start, it allowed Rimi to serve Shohi.

Rimi had then met the four consorts, spent time with them, and her life had been spared by Jotetsu and Kyo Kunki. She was able to meet Gulzari Shar, Shuri, and Aisha of Saisakoku, a nation she had thought was like a fairy tale when she had been in Wakoku.

“I’ve met so many people that I never would have expected. So many things have happened,” Rimi said.

“I’m sure they were unexpected,” Shusei answered with a pensive nod, deeply moved by these words. He then looked at her oddly. “Speaking of the unexpected, I’m most perplexed by your relationship with the Quinary Dragon. Why was it so attached to you? Since I see it practically glued to His Majesty’s side now, I cannot help but be curious.”

“Hm, I wonder...”

Rimi tilted her head to one side. She was also unsure of the reason and had simply assumed the dragon grew fond of her because she fed it. But ever since she saw Tama’s true nature, she didn’t think the divine beast had gotten attached to her because of the food.

“Tama is a divine dragon. I’m sure she experienced something we’re unaware of, but I cannot deny that she was behaving strangely,” Rimi admitted. “Whenever I see Tama by His Majesty’s side, I breathe a sigh of relief now. I feel like she’s where she belongs. I can tell that her place by His Majesty’s side is very comforting, so I feel even more relieved by the sight. Tama, who’s chosen her place, has made His Majesty the true emperor, and thus, I feel compelled to follow his orders.”

Shusei was silent for a while before he finally responded.

“Certainly. Since His Majesty has become the true owner of the Quinary Dragon, I suppose I must follow his orders as well.” After steeling himself, Shusei looked up, his expression changing completely to concern. “Why don’t we go back inside? Your hands have grown so cold.”

Shusei placed his hand over Rimi’s, which was atop the handrail. His hands were warm. When she looked up, she was met with his kind gaze. Feeling his presence and warmth made her so happy that her body shook with joy. While they stared into each other’s eyes, he gave her a strained smile.

“I always found you so dear,” Shusei said. “His Majesty has allowed me to touch you like this, but every time I do so, I’m reminded of my sins. This must be my punishment as well—every time I touch you, I must remember what I’ve done.”

Rimi placed her other hand over his as he peered into her eyes.

“For me, my meeting with you spared my life. Meeting you was my fate, and if Heaven arranges it so that I continue to live, then I shall always stay by your side, Master Shusei,” Rimi confessed. “Together with you, I shall accept your crimes, and I will never leave you. I’ve been blessed by the people I’ve met, and I believe I’ve experienced happiness in Konkoku. And I think I’ve found happiness with you as well. It may not be pure and beautiful, and there may be spots of sin, but I still believe that staying alive is being happy as long as you are with me, Master Shusei.”

Rimi wasn’t greedy enough to wish for a perfectly beautiful and pure form of happiness that everyone would agree with. Hers was small and surrounded by sin. It tore at her chest and might have been humiliating and suffocating, but she felt she found a place that was much too good for a person like herself. In the depths of the imperial palace, her very existence was said to cause trouble, yet she was loved by her Saigu sister and had met some precious people in Konkoku.

This was more than enough for Rimi. Shusei quietly listened to her words and firmly nodded as though he was carefully committing her words to memory.

“Truly. I chose my path with resolve, Rimi...” he whispered, bringing his face close to hers. “Please stay by my side. Always.”

After he drew so close to Rimi that she could feel his breathing, he gently kissed her. Rimi’s cold lips felt the warmth of Shusei’s. His lips were as warm as his hands. He drew her close and kissed her deeply. Confusion, anxiety, guilt—Shusei was definitely feeling a myriad of emotions, but he accepted them all. It was all because his master, whom he had risked his life to protect, had ordered him to do so.

Afterword

Hello everyone! Miri Mikawa here. This is the final volume of the Culinary Chronicles of the Court Flower. When I first had this story in mind (which spanned over 11 volumes), I told my editor at the time that it’d be great if the story could continue until the seventh volume without it being axed. When I was able to write up to the appearance of Shusei’s father, I was truly happy because I thought I could finish the tale. All right, to the seventh volume it is! I initially thought, but then I was graciously given approval to write a bit more. And so, I was able to write the story that I had originally come up with and build upon it as well!

It’s all thanks to my readers, who stuck with me through it all. I’d like to truly thank you from the bottom of my heart. I frankly believe that I’ve been blessed with wonderful readers.

I also think that Kasumi Nagi’s illustrations were a huge factor in allowing this story to continue until the end. I believe many readers were drawn in by the beautifully illustrated cover, beckoning you to read the book. The characters were illustrated handsomely and beautifully in not only the color illustrations but the monochrome ones within the books as well. They’re soothing to the eyes. While the cover was breathtaking, the monochrome illustrations depicted the characters’ emotions and were laid out in a wonderful fashion that was certainly pleasing to see. I always looked forward to them.

Even Kunki was drawn in color at the end! I’m very fortunate to receive Nagi’s loving artwork. I truly cannot express my gratitude enough. Thank you so, so much.

I’m also grateful to the previous person in charge who helped me start this series. Without them, Culinary Chronicles of the Court Flower never would’ve existed. Work aside, while I was struggling with my personal affairs, I was able to continue my work without giving up because I enjoyed working with them. Even now, they are my angel.

In addition, the current person in charge who took over was unbelievably busy, yet they took their time to carefully guide my tale to its completion. I’m very grateful. I especially caused them so much trouble with Kojin, who was personally the most troublesome character ever. But I believe I was also able to properly integrate him into the story.

Thank you to the editors of Beans Bunko, the marketing team, and the digital book team. I know I wasn’t very involved with that process, but I’m greatly indebted to you all. Thank you to all the bookstores that cheered me on as well. I cannot express my gratitude enough.

I believe our next meeting, if we do meet again, would be on April 25th, when my next book, Senbunkaku no Kisho Mokuroku, will be published via Kadokawa Bunko. It’ll be a mash-up of Chinese cuisine and a library with strokes of fantasy. If you ever feel inclined to pick up the book, I’ll be doing a little dance with joy. Please keep that in mind!

Lastly, once again, I’d like to thank all of my readers. It goes without saying that every reader has been supporting my work while I was writing this tale, but you have all provided me with emotional support as well. I’d be very happy if you were able to experience even a bit of fun through reading this series.

I cannot thank each and every one of you enough. I pray that we may one day meet again.

Miri Mikawa