"Please, let them go. Let my Hao go as well. I will come with you," Eula said finally, her voice trembling but resolute after a long moment of silence.
Katarina raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes assessing Eula and her companions. With an almost graceful ease, she walked back to the table, her footsteps so light that, if not for her visible presence, Eula might have thought she wasn't even there.
Katarina sank into the chair, crossing her legs delicately, her movements as poised as a dancer's. Her demeanor was calm, almost casual, but the intensity of her gaze revealed the calculating mind behind it.
Growing up with Nakago, her husband and one of the most cunning strategists of their time, Katarina had developed a keen sense of perception. Though she didn't possess Nakago's legendary foresight, her ability to read people and situations was sharp enough to make her a force to reckon with.
"Can I be honest?" Katarina asked, tilting her head slightly. When Eula didn't respond, she continued, taking her silence as agreement. "When your people decided to help you and your son, they already knew, one way or another, that they were going to die. And that, madame, is a fact."
Katarina's eyes flicked over to Alfred, Marie, and Layla. The silent resignation in their expressions confirmed her words. Their loyalty to Eula was unwavering, even in the face of death.
"So, if I let them leave with your son, the moment they step out of Aquitaine, it won't just be your husband's men hunting them. His enemies will too—and we both know he has plenty." Katarina leaned back, her smile faint but unwavering.
Eula clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she absorbed the weight of Katarina's words. She hated that they were true.
"Let me tell you something, woman to woman," Katarina said, her voice softening slightly. "And as a mother to a fellow mother: the best person to protect your son is you."
Eula stared at her, shocked. She hadn't expected such words from someone like Katarina. She couldn't imagine this poised, dangerous woman as a mother. Katarina caught her expression and smirked.
"Surprised?" she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I have two sons. Twins, actually. My eldest, much like your Hao, is the heir to the Toheyama clan."
For a moment, Katarina's gaze softened, and Eula glimpsed a rare vulnerability in her eyes.
"Then why can't you let us leave?" Eula asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you do the same thing I'm doing now?"
"I wouldn't," Katarina said bluntly, her tone unwavering. The directness of her response stunned Eula.
"You see," Katarina continued, leaning forward slightly, "although we share similar roles in our clans, mine wasn't handed to me like yours was. Haoran offered you that position to prove his twisted version of love for you. I fought for mine and continue fighting to keep it—not because I want the position, but because I love the man who gave it to me. I'm not going to pretend I understand you, because I don't. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't be running. I'd be fighting."
Eula opened her mouth to respond but faltered. "I… I don't know how to fight," she admitted quietly, shame creeping into her voice.
Katarina smirked, almost as if she'd expected that response. "You were raised a princess," she said, her tone laced with a mixture of pity and condescension. "But there are many ways to fight. Women like us don't need brute strength to win. Our power isn't in our muscles—it's here," she tapped her temple, "and here," she placed a hand over her heart.
Eula blinked, uncertain how to respond.
"You could have used your husband's love for you to get whatever you wanted," Katarina said, her voice sharp. "Because I would. But who am I to judge? Everyone knows he took you by force. Still, if I were you, I wouldn't have spent my time crying in the corner of my room or relying on others to save me. I would have used that love—twisted as it is—to bend him to my will. Because my love for my sons makes me strong enough to do anything."
From the back of her leather pants, Katarina retrieved four passports—the same fake passports Eula had been waiting for, promised to arrive by morning. With a measured motion, she placed them on the table between them, the sound of the paper hitting the wood echoing in the tense silence.
"And let's assume," Katarina continued, her voice calm but cutting, "that your companions and your son manage to escape without being captured by your husband's men or his enemies. Do you realize what that life will look like? They'll have to keep running. Always looking over their shoulders, always moving, never safe. Is that the life you want for your son? To grow up running for his life?"
Her piercing gaze settled on Eula, who visibly flinched under the weight of her words.
"When they leave, and I bring you back to your husband," Katarina went on, her tone colder now, "you will have to sever all ties with your son. No letters, no calls, no way of knowing if he's safe or alive. To keep him protected, you must treat him as if he's dead. Can you do that, Eula?"
Eula's composure broke entirely. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs. The weight of the impossible choice Katarina presented crushed her spirit.
"I'll give you an hour," Katarina said, her voice softer but unrelenting. "The best way for your companions to survive is for you and your son to come with us willingly. And don't even think about running. You have nowhere to go."
With that, Katarina turned and walked out of the house, leaving the passports on the table. Her footsteps echoed faintly as she made her way toward the sleek black car parked a short distance away.
Eros, one of the Toheyama enforcers, immediately stepped forward to open the passenger door for her. Inside, Nakago sat waiting, his posture composed but his presence commanding as always.
"I told you, you didn't need to come," Katarina said as she slid into the seat, her voice laced with both irritation and affection.
Nakago's expression, unreadable to most, betrayed a flicker of something only Katarina could discern—concern, perhaps, or a quiet struggle. She knew him too well to miss it.
"I said I'd take this burden myself," she added, adjusting her gloves as if to emphasize her independence.
"No," Nakago replied firmly, his gaze fixed on the small house Katarina had just exited.
"Are you changing your mind?" Katarina asked, her voice softening. Though rare, she had seen Nakago alter a heavy decision before. It never made him seem weak to her; if anything, it deepened her respect for him.
"I'm not," he said after a moment, his voice low and resolute. He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. "But I will not let you carry this burden alone. I will carry it with you."
Katarina's breath hitched at the quiet intensity in his words, but she remained silent, letting him finish.
"And I will regret this for the rest of my life," Nakago added, his tone unwavering. "I will gladly carry that regret, and the weight of this decision, on my conscience forever. Because if we're to walk through hell, we walk through it together."
Katarina felt a pang in her chest, a mix of pride and sadness. She reached over, placing a gloved hand on his, a silent acknowledgment of his words.