The long dining hall of the château buzzed with an uneasy tension as the elders of the Azakura clan, each accompanied by their concierge and guards, occupied their designated seats around the massive table. The atmosphere was thick with concealed motives and unspoken rivalries.
This should have been a private matter—an issue between Haoran and his wife, Eula. But Eula had crossed into Toheyama territory, a move that escalated a domestic dispute into a potential international incident. Most of the elders, with a few notable exceptions, had flocked to the château under the guise of offering sympathy and assistance.
Haoran knew better. Their so-called help wasn't rooted in loyalty or concern; they were circling like vultures, eager for an excuse to start a war. A war that wouldn't just target the Toheyama but also undermine Haoran's authority, paving the way for power plays within the clan.
As Haoran entered the room, his cold, calculating gaze swept over the assembly. Without acknowledging the murmurs of greeting, he strode to the head of the table and sat with unyielding authority. Zandro, ever his loyal right hand, took the seat to his right.
Haoran's voice cut through the hushed murmurs. "Viktor," he said, addressing the head of the Manzoni family, seated further down the table. "Any news regarding my wife and son?"
Viktor, a man twice Haoran's age with a sly smile that always seemed to conceal ulterior motives, leaned back in his chair. "Don't worry, Haoran," he said, his tone oozing false reassurance. "I sent my heir to lead the operation. He hasn't reported back yet, but I'm confident he already has your wife and son in custody."
Harvey Valdemor, head of the Valdemor family and one of the few elders Haoran trusted, interjected sharply. "Did you remind him not to antagonize the Toheyama?" His distrust of Viktor and, more specifically, Viktor's reckless heir, Alvise, was evident. Alvise was notorious for stirring trouble and relying on his father's influence to escape consequences.
Viktor didn't answer Harvey directly. Instead, his lips curled into a sinister grin.
"What did you do, Viktor?" Othelo Lorenzo, another elder, demanded, his voice rising in anger.
Viktor's grin widened, and his gaze flickered to Othelo with defiance. "I did exactly as I was instructed, Lorenzo," he said boldly. "I was told to bring the Mistress and the young master back. No one specified that they had to return alive."
The room fell silent as Viktor turned to face Haoran. While his expression remained impassive, Zandro, seated beside him, noticed the subtle clenching of his fists beneath the table. It was a silent storm brewing, one Zandro knew would erupt with precision.
Haoran's voice was eerily calm as he asked, "What did you do, Viktor?"
"I seized an opportunity," Viktor said, his tone brimming with arrogance. "You sent a letter to the Toheyama, demanding the safe return of your wife and son. They failed to comply, giving us the perfect excuse to go to war. Once we take down the Toheyama, the other clans will rally to our side. The truce is meaningless. Truces are only necessary when the other side holds more power than you do. And we are not afraid of the Toheyama."
Haoran's cold gaze flicked to the other elders seated around the table, gauging their reactions. He could see who shared Viktor's mindset and who remained aligned with his vision for the clan. The division was clear, and it confirmed what he had suspected for some time—loyalty among the elders was a precarious thing.
Then, to everyone's surprise, Haoran laughed. It was a low, chilling sound that echoed through the hall, growing louder until it filled the room.
"You stupid people," Haoran said with a wicked smile, his tone dripping with derision. "I have always wondered how someone with a brain the size of a pea could rise to lead a family."
The hall fell deathly silent as Haoran's piercing gaze locked onto Viktor. His laughter faded, replaced by a deadly calm.
"Did you think I honored the truce because I was afraid of the Toheyama?" Haoran asked, his voice cold as ice. "The Toheyama aren't dangerous because of their size. They're dangerous because they are united. They protect their own with unbreakable loyalty. Meanwhile, you pathetic fools can't go a day without plotting against each other."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Even Viktor, usually brash and defiant, shifted uncomfortably under Haoran's glare.
"This isn't about fear," Haoran continued, his voice rising slightly. "This is about vision. Progress. A future where our clan isn't mired in the petty squabbles and bloodshed that have defined us for centuries. But you—" his eyes narrowed at Viktor, "—you're too shortsighted to see that. You've jeopardized everything. And for what? Your pathetic thirst for power?"
Haoran leaned back in his chair, his expression one of contemptuous amusement. "You've made your move, Viktor. Now let's see if you're prepared to face the consequences."