The etiquette room had not grown any warmer since his last visit. The brazier in the corner coughed out weak heat and Naoya even sneezed a few times because today is simply very cold. Yone knelt on the raised platform, his sharp cheekbones catching the shadows, his man bun tied as tight as ever.
Naoya sat on his cushion, his back straight, his hands on his thighs.
I hate this. I hate him. I hate every single thing about this.
He was currently "studying" etiquette. Right now, he’s supposed to repeat the same wretched phrases with different tones while Yone corrected his posture, his breathing, the angle of his eyelids, and every single unnecessary thing imaginable. But really, his mind was currently busy with cursing everything in existence.
Outwardly though, he was as calm and collected as a fish pond. Which is to say…
Soft smile, he reminded himself. Relaxed brow. No teeth.
"Welcome," he said. "I am honored by your presence."
His voice cracked on the last word. Every syllable that escaped his mouth sounded like it had been dragged through gritted teeth. Which was accurate, because that was exactly what was happening.
He could feel his blood pressure rising. A vein throbbed in his temple. His jaw ached from the effort of not clenching it.
Yone watched him with an expression that was barely, infuriatingly, amused. The man did not bother to hide it. The corners of his lips were turned up and his eyes sparked with glee when they made eye contact.
He's enjoying this, Naoya thought. The old crow is enjoying watching me suffer.
Distracting himself by purposefully letting his thoughts wander, he was finally reminded of Hanaya.
The image of her crumpled on the tatami, tears on her face, trembling as he sat on her back. The way she had lowered her hand. The way her voice had broken when she asked, "What do you want?"
A new pawn. A useful pawn.
His mood became… lighter.
Finally. Finally, I can begin my battle for power in this clan.
He did not smile. He was too controlled for that. But something in his face shifted—a softening around the edges as some tensions were released.
Yone noticed immediately.
"Naoya-sama," the instructor said, tilting his head, "you have to smile a little more softly. That is closer, but still too rigid. Oh my!" Yone's eyes widened theatrically. "Could it be that you are currently having a stroke? Your face just spasmed in a most peculiar way."
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.
Naoya inhaled through his nose. Exhaled through his mouth.
Then he smiled. Wide and bright while also being very obviously insincere.
"HA HA HA HA." The laugh was loud, pointed, and utterly hollow. "That is quite the funny joke, coming from a sack of dust. Careful when you walk outside, old man. You might get blown away by the wind."
Yone's eyebrows rose. He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.
"HA HA HA HA," he laughed in return. It was just as hollow as Naoya's, but deeper, older, and clearly more practiced. "Such fire from such a small vessel. Tell me, Naoya-sama, is the wind not kind to you as well? You look as though a strong breeze could snap you in half."
He's mocking me. He's openly mocking me.
But Yone was still smiling. Not angry. Not offended. Almost… pleased?
What is happening?
"I am sturdier than I appear," Naoya said, his voice measured. "Unlike some who crumble when a child breathes on them."
"Oh?" Yone leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "And who might that be? I am merely a humble instructor, doing my duty. I do not crumble. I am as steady as the mountains."
"Mountains erode," Naoya shot back. "Give it time. Oh wait! You’re almost out of that, didn’t you?”
Yone laughed again.
“So you says! The boy lectures me on time. Do you know how many boys I have taught, Naoya-sama? How many little lords who thought they would outlast me?" He waved a hand dismissively. "They all married off. Moved away. Forgotten. And here I remain."
He's not wrong, Naoya admitted to himself. But he's also not right. I am not those boys.
"Perhaps you remain," Naoya said, "because no one wants to marry a skeleton."
Yone gasped—sickeningly performative as if he’s doing a theatrical show. "Skeleton! He calls me a skeleton. Look at this face. This is the face that made maidens weep in my youth."
"In your youth," Naoya emphasized. "Past tense. How old are you now? A hundred? Two hundred?”
"Old enough to know that boys who talk too much end up with sore tongues."
"Old enough that you should have retired already."
"Retire?" Yone pressed a hand to his chest. "And leave the Zenin clan without my wisdom? Never. I am essential."
"You are a fossil," Naoya said. "A relic. A museum piece that no one asked to see."
Yone threw his head back and laughed. Not hollow this time. Full and rich. Dare he say…almost warm.
"Fossil! HA! He has a vocabulary, this one."
Naoya stared at him, bewildered.
Why is he not angry? Why is he… enjoying this?
In his world, insulting an elder—especially a teacher—would have consequences. A beating. A reduction in stipend. Exile from the training grounds.
But Yone was smiling. Amused. As if Naoya's insults were a game. A dance.
I don't understand this world, he thought. Or maybe… maybe this is how men assert dominance here? With words instead of fists?
He did not know.
Yone clapped his hands together. "Enough, enough. You have entertained me, Naoya-sama. But we still have twenty minutes remaining. Welcome. I am honored by your presence. With feeling this time. And try not to look like you are passing a kidney stone."
Naoya's eye twitched.
Twenty more minutes. I can survive twenty more minutes.
"Welcome," he said, forcing the softest smile he could manage. "I am honored by your presence."
"Better. Again."
He took a breath.
"Welcome. I am honored by your presence."
Yone nodded, his expression almost approving.
"Acceptable. Now, let us discuss the proper response when a woman compliments your appearance. You do not say 'thank you' as you would to an equal. You say—"
FUCK YOU, YOU DAMNED TRIANGLE CHIN HEADED OLD MAN!!
.
.
.
.
A single lantern hung in the ceiling, giving much needed illumination as even though it’s currently in the day, the sun could not be seen.
Kenji, the household accountant, knelt across from him. His narrow face was calm—unlike yesterday—and he had his arms neatly folded on his thighs. The wooden ledger from their last lesson lay open between them.
"Today," Kenji said, "we will review the monthly expenditures for the eastern storehouses. These records are from three months ago. I want you to identify any discrepancies."
Naoya picked up the ledger while his bandaged arm sat on the table, aching as usual. A sensation he already gotten used to. His eyes moved across the columns. Rice. Charcoal. Cloth. Medicine. Numbers. Dates. Signatures.
He read carefully. Not because he likes the subject.
Even though I do enjoy it quite a bit.
But enjoyment was not the reason for his focus.
I need this knowledge.Because this is how I begin my bid for power.
Everything looked normal. Perfectly, boringly normal.
Kenji pointed to a row. "This is the rice allocation for the eastern barracks. Notice how the amount fluctuates with the seasons. More in winter, less in summer. Standard practice."
Naoya nodded. He asked a few questions about how the numbers were verified. Kenji answered patiently.
The lesson was uneventful. Which could mean…
He has no idea, Naoya thought. No one here has any idea.
Because the thought in his head came from nowhere in this world.
From his first life, when he was very small, his father—Naobito—had just become clan head. Naoya was born with a blessed amount of cursed energy and when he finally awakened his curse technique—the same one as Naobito—the race to become the clan head was over. Ogi lost terribly.
And he remembered a year after, there had been a scandal. An elder caught embezzling from the clan for years. And instead of giving the expected punishment such as exile or confinement, his father had given the elder a death sentence. Public execution to consolidate his power further and to give message to Ogi and his ilk, who was still adamant that the head position belonged to him.
I don't remember the name, Naoya thought. I don't remember the dates or the amounts. I barely remember the execution method.
But he remembered that it happened. That some elder—some powerful, trusted figure—had been stealing from the clan for years.
And in this inverted world, someone is probably doing the same thing. Different names. Different faces. But the same crime.
No one is currently suspected of doing anything. But he has hindsight. And thus…
Nobody is above my suspicion.
He turned another page, but the numbers still meant little to him. He couldn’t spot the fraud by sight—he had no evidence, no names, no leads.
But I have time. I have access to the ledgers, and I have hindsight. All I need to do is learn the system, understand where the blind spots are, and wait for something to feel wrong. And when it does—I will have my weapon.
Kenji cleared his throat. "Naoya-sama, you seem distracted. Shall I repeat the explanation?"
"No," Naoya said, his voice even. "I understood everything. You can continue.”
Right now, Hanaya should be doing my orders. But is she really capable of doing it, he wonders.
His mind wandered to a few hours ago when Hanaya knelt on the tatami with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed on the floor. The bruise on her jaw had darkened to an ugly purple, and she had not spoken unless spoken to.
Good, Naoya had thought. She's learning.
He had stood by the window with his back to her, watching as cloud began to slowly cover the sky.
Her shoulders tensed. "Yes, Naoya-sama."
"You will not tell anyone. You will not write anything down. You will not ask questions. You will do exactly as I say."
"…Yes, Naoya-sama."
He turned around, his face calm but his eyes sharp. "The clan keeps ledgers—storehouse records, supply orders, expenditures. I want you to look at them."
Hanaya blinked. "The ledgers? But those are kept in the accounting office. I do not have access—"
"You will find access."
Her mouth closed. Naoya walked toward her, stopping just in front of her knees, and looked down at the top of her head. "You are a teacher who has been in this clan for years. You know people—which clerks are lazy, which guards look the other way, which storerooms are never checked."
He crouched down to bring his face level with hers.
“Or perhaps…are you telling me you can’t even do something as simple as that?”
“…I will try my best, Naoya-sama.”
“Good,” Naoya then lifted one finger. "Here is what you will do. First, you will not steal the ledgers—taking them is a crime, but looking at them is not. You will find excuses to be in the accounting office: deliver a message, ask about supply orders for your lessons, complain that the ink you received is poor quality. Be boring and forgettable."
He held up a second finger. "Second, when you are there, you will look at the eastern storehouse records. Start with the oldest ones you can find—five years ago, ten years ago. Look for patterns. Do numbers go up in certain months? Do they go down? Do they match the seasonal reports you see elsewhere?"
A third finger. "Third, you will memorize nothing and write nothing. You will simply look and remember. If you see something strange—a number that is too high, a signature that appears too often, a date that does not match—you will come back to me and describe it. No names, no documents. Just what you saw."
He lowered his hand. "Do not ask anyone questions. Do not hint that you are looking for anything. If someone asks why you are in the accounting office, you are there for supplies. That is all."
He stood up. "If anyone suspects you, if anyone follows you, if anyone so much as looks at you twice—you will stop immediately and tell me."
Hanaya nodded, her face pale. "How long will this take?" she whispered.
Naoya shrugged. "As long as it takes. Weeks, months. I am in no rush."
Lie, he thought. I am in a great rush. But rushing gets you caught.
He walked back to the window. "One more thing. If you betray me—if you go to Naobi or the elders or anyone—I will destroy you. Not with the disciplinary committee." He glanced over his shoulder. "I will tell everyone that you begged me to let you touch me, that you offered to do anything for my body, and that you cried pathetically when I said no."
Hanaya's breath caught, and her hands trembled.
"Your word against mine," Naoya said, echoing her own threat from earlier. "And I am the clan head's son."
He smiled. "Now go. You have work to do."
She rose on unsteady legs, bowed, and walked toward the door, her hand shaking as she slid it open.
Hmmph.
Naoya couldn’t hold back a scoff and a smirk when he remembered how truly pitiable Hanaya looked.
The accounting lesson ended without incident. Kenji bowed and left, and Naoya sat alone at the low desk, staring at the closed ledger.
The pieces are in motion, he thought. Now I wait.