Otto Suwen returned to the mansion a week after the hearing, his eager expression masking a calculating intelligence that Ayanokoji recognized immediately.
The young merchant had come bearing news—and an offer.
“The consortium has reviewed your proposal,” Otto said, seated across from Ayanokoji in the receiving room.
“They’re interested in supporting Lady Emilia’s campaign.
But they have conditions.”
“Of course they do.” Ayanokoji leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral.
“What are their terms?”
Otto pulled a document from his coat and slid it across the table.
Ayanokoji picked it up, scanning the contents.
The terms were standard for political patronage—financial support in exchange for favorable trade policies, protection of merchant interests, and preferential treatment for consortium members.
Nothing he hadn’t anticipated.
But there was one clause that caught his attention.
“The consortium requests a private meeting with Lady Emilia,” Otto said, his tone casual.
“To discuss the details of the arrangement.”
Ayanokoji’s eyes narrowed.
“Why private?
Why not discuss it here, under controlled conditions?”
Otto smiled, a practiced expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“The consortium is…
sensitive about certain matters.
They prefer to speak in confidence, away from prying ears.”
There’s something they’re hiding, Ayanokoji thought.
Something they don’t want anyone else to know.
“Who exactly is this consortium?
I’ve received only vague descriptions.
I need more concrete information before I agree to anything.”
Otto’s smile faltered slightly.
They value their privacy—for competitive reasons, you understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” Ayanokoji set the document down, his gaze fixed on Otto.
“But I don’t make deals with anonymous partners.
If the consortium wants to support Lady Emilia, they need to reveal themselves.
Otherwise, there’s no deal.”
Otto was silent for a long moment.
Then he nodded slowly.
“I’ll convey your concerns to my employers.
But I should warn you—they may not appreciate the delay.”
“I’m not concerned about their appreciation.
I’m concerned about Lady Emilia’s safety.
Any partner she works with must be thoroughly vetted.
If the consortium has nothing to hide, they should have no objection to full disclosure.”
Otto smiled again, but this time there was a sharp edge to it.
“You’re very careful, Ayanokoji-san.
Some might say paranoid.”
“Some might say alive.
It’s a distinction I prefer to maintain.”
The meeting ended with Otto promising to return with an answer.
As the merchant left, Ayanokoji remained in his chair, his mind working through the implications.
The consortium is hiding something, he thought.
Something significant.
It could be political connections, criminal ties, or something else entirely.
Either way, I need to know what it is before we accept their support.
He found Rem in the kitchen, helping prepare the evening meal.
She looked up as he entered, her expression curious.
“How did the meeting go?”
“Complicated.” Ayanokoji leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“The consortium wants a private meeting with Emilia.
They’re being secretive about their identities.”
Rem’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s suspicious.”
“Very.
I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“I need information on Otto Suwen and his consortium.
Who they are, what they want, what they’re hiding.
Can you investigate?”
Rem nodded, her expression determined.
“I’ll start immediately.
I have contacts in the capital—people who owe me favors.”
“Good.
But be discreet.
If the consortium suspects we’re investigating them, they might become hostile.”
“I understand.”
As Rem left, Ayanokoji felt a surge of something—trust, perhaps.
He was learning to rely on others, to delegate tasks and share responsibility.
It was a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one.
I’m becoming a leader, he realized.
Not just a strategist, but someone people actually follow.
The thought was both empowering and terrifying.
Leadership meant responsibility—for success and failure, for lives and deaths.
It was a burden he had never wanted, but now found himself carrying.
The White Room never prepared me for this, he thought.
But I’ll adapt.
I always do.