The Daimyo stood tall at the center of the elevated stage, his deep voice rolling across the grand square like thunder.
The glowing night flowers and countless lanterns bathed everything in soft blue and gold light, but the atmosphere had grown strangely heavy.
Most of the crowd remained silent, listening intently. Only the restless children squirmed in their mothers' arms, whispering loudly about wanting to play, and the nobles in their reserved seating exchanged quiet, tense whispers behind their fans and sleeves.
Eiko stood just a few steps behind the Daimyo with the other concubines — Miko, Hana, and Yumi. Her sheer crimson silk outfit still clung to her sweat-dampened skin, the low neckline and high slits leaving little to the imagination.
Fresh bite marks and hickeys from the carriage ride were clearly visible on her neck and chest. The earlier whispers from the crowd about her and Lord Harada still echoed in her mind.
Everyone knows now… How will Harada ever face these people again?
Suddenly, the head guard's sharp eyes narrowed. He had noticed several figures moving oddly through the dense crowd below — too purposeful, too coordinated. Before he could turn to his subordinates and issue a warning, a ragged voice erupted from the front of the crowd.
"Death to the tyrant!"
A scrawny peasant in tattered festival clothes shoved his way forward and hurled a kunai with all his strength.
The blade spun through the air toward the Daimyo, but it was poorly thrown — wobbling wildly. It sailed far wide and embedded itself harmlessly into the wooden railing at the side of the stage with a dull thunk.
For one frozen second, the entire square went deathly silent. Then pure chaos erupted.
Gasps and screams tore through the crowd. Mothers yanked their children close. Merchants dropped their goods. Commoners stumbled backward in panic, eyes wide with terror.
A noblewoman clutched her husband's arm, whispering frantically, "Did he just try to kill the Daimyo?"
Another noble muttered under his breath, "Fool… He's signed his own death warrant."
The head guard's face twisted in disgust. "Bloody peasants."
But the attacker wasn't finished. Fueled by rage, the man kept screaming, voice cracking with raw hatred.
"Death to the tyrant! Death to the tyrant who steals wives and crushes families!"
He grabbed rocks and debris, hurling them toward the stage. They fell pitifully short.
The Daimyo didn't even flinch. He looked down with cold, arrogant contempt.
"Pathetic. Arrest him. Now."
Two elite guards leapt from the high stage in perfect unison. They landed on the cobblestones below with thunderous impact, cracking the ground beneath their feet.
In seconds they reached the attacker. One delivered a single devastating punch. The peasant collapsed unconscious, blood spraying from his face as the guards dragged his limp body away.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, many trembling.
Eiko's heart pounded violently. Everything had happened so fast. At first she hadn't understood.
Then realization hit her.
Someone tried to kill him…
For one shameful second, a thought flashed through her mind: Why did he miss?
She immediately hated herself for it. If they succeed… what happens to my children?
Nearby, the Daimyo's 30th son sat with Cha Hae-In on his lap. He laughed and pulled her tighter against him.
"What a fucking idiot," he sneered.
Cha Hae-In remained stiff and silent in his arms, her eyes locked on the stage.
The Daimyo raised one hand. The square slowly quieted.
He looked out over his people, voice booming with god-like arrogance.
"He was just a fool. A pathetic peasant trying to assassinate me — the Daimyo of the Fire Country. I am the man chosen by the gods themselves to lead this land into a greater future. None shall stand in my way. I am the chosen one. Destiny itself bends to my will. I am the king of this land."
Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening explosion erupted directly behind the stage.
The blast was massive.
A thunderous roar tore through the night as a huge fireball erupted outward, followed by a powerful shockwave that shook the entire stage.
The back half of the elevated platform exploded in a shower of splintered wood, stone, and flaming debris. Chunks of the stage flew dozens of meters into the air before crashing down into the panicked crowd.
Several guards were thrown off their feet like ragdolls. Burning wood and stone rained down across the platform.
The concubines were caught directly in the blast.
Eiko was thrown backward violently by the shockwave. She hit the stage floor hard, the air knocked from her lungs. A piece of burning debris struck her shoulder, searing through the thin silk and burning her skin.
Pain exploded through her body. Smoke and heat filled her vision. She coughed violently, ears ringing, as she tried to push herself up.
Miko was knocked to her knees beside her, clutching her head where a piece of wood had grazed her. Hana was thrown onto her side, her sheer outfit torn and covered in soot.
Yumi had been closest to the back and was hit harder — she lay dazed on the stage, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead, her body half-covered in debris.
The four women were scattered across the damaged stage, coughing and disoriented amid the smoke and flames.
Thick black smoke billowed upward, mixed with orange flames that quickly began licking at what remained of the stage.
The heat was intense. People closest to the stage were knocked down by the force of the blast. Screams of pain and terror filled the air as the injured cried out and others trampled over them in blind panic.
The entire crowd erupted into pure, uncontrolled chaos.
Commoners stampeded in every direction, shoving and trampling each other. Mothers screamed their children's names. Some people fell and were crushed underfoot.
Others stood frozen in place, faces blank with shock, bodies trembling violently as they stared at the rising inferno.
Nobles ducked behind their seats or ran for cover, faces streaked with soot and fear.
Across the square, people were screaming the same desperate questions:
"The Daimyo—!"
"Is he alive?!"
"What happened to the Lord?!"
"Has he been killed?!"
"The concubines too — they were up there!"
Eiko lay on the damaged stage, coughing from the thick smoke, her shoulder burning from the debris. For one terrifying moment she couldn't see the Daimyo through the flames and black smoke. Her heart lurched violently.
Is he dead…?
A dangerous, shameful flicker of hope mixed with raw terror surged through her chest. She hated herself for it, but the thought was there, burning as brightly as the fire around them.
The concubines around her were in similar states of shock and pain, their earlier sense of power and ambition completely shattered by the sudden violence.
All across the square, the once-beautiful festival had turned into a scene of pure terror and destruction in mere seconds.
And in the middle of the chaos and smoke, no one could yet see what had become of the Daimyo… or whether any of them would survive the night.
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