Echizen Residence
During the day, the temple gates remained open, allowing anyone to enter and pay their respects without strict formalities.
However, few visitors ever came.
After all, the sign at the entrance bore the Echizen family name, leading most to assume it was private property and hesitate to intrude.
Yet today, two unfamiliar figures—a man and a woman—stepped inside.
Most of the temple's rooms were locked.
Guided by a weathered sign, the pair made their way to the inner courtyard.
Before long, they spotted a man lounging under the eaves beside the large temple bell, lazily flipping through a magazine.
"The Buddha's that way. Pay your respects and leave—no loitering," the man said without looking up.
Disdain flickered across the woman's face, but she quickly suppressed it. Hesitantly, she called out, "Echizen Nanjiro?"
The man reading the magazine was indeed Nanjiro.
Hearing his name, he lowered the magazine and studied the newcomers. His expression shifted briefly before settling into cold indifference.
"The U.S. Open's coming up, isn't it?" he sneered. "Shouldn't you be in the States preparing? What brings you here—and who's this wild man you've dragged along?"
The woman bristled. "He's my personal assistant!"
"Oh? A male personal assistant? Well, congrats on the happy box you two'll be sharing!"
"You—!"
She clenched her fists but swallowed her anger. Remembering her purpose, she forced herself to stay calm. "I want to see Yoru."
Nanjiro's smirk vanished. Propping his chin on his hand, he replied mockingly, "Why? To tell him you've got a new toy and found him a stepdad?"
"That's too far!"
The woman was Joanna —or rather, Nalan.
Yoru's biological mother.
Nanjiro wasn't surprised by her appearance. He'd anticipated this when Yoru left for England.
What he hadn't expected was for her to seek them out so soon, especially without Yoru making contact first.
Nalan's face darkened. "Yoru's father was—and always will be—my only husband. Tell me where Yoru is... and where Dai is. Why are you hiding from me?"
"Where Dai is?"
Those three words sent a visible tremor through Nanjiro. Veins bulged at his temples, his eyes bloodshot, hatred etching itself into his features.
"You mean... you truly don't know where Dai is?!" he roared, his voice shaking with barely restrained fury.
In an instant, the entire temple seemed to suffocate under an oppressive weight.
The "assistant," fearing Nanjiro might lash out, moved to shield Nalan—only to freeze mid-step.
His vision blurred. Behind Nanjiro, the shadow of a sword-wielding samurai loomed, growing larger, more terrifying—
A strangled scream escaped him before he collapsed, unconscious.
Nalan, however, remained unaffected. Ignoring the fallen man, she focused solely on Nanjiro's reaction. His earlier mention of "getting tickets for his son" now took on a horrifying new meaning.
Her voice trembled. "Where... is Dai?"
Nanjiro inhaled sharply, forcing himself to steady. But the pain in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Dai... is dead."
The words came out like a blade. "You forgot about his illness, didn't you? A few years after you abandoned him... it took him."
Nalan's face cycled through shock, denial, and finally, agony.
Staggering back, she gripped a pillar for support.
"No... that's impossible. The surgery fixed him—"
"It treated him," Nanjiro spat. "Not cured. He relapsed. Seven years ago."
Nalan's knees buckled. A dam inside her shattered.
Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, as if denial could undo the truth. But deep down, she knew.
Why else would Nanjiro call Yoru his son?
The ultimate trust between brothers—entrusting one's child to the other.
"It was osteosarcoma," Nanjiro said hollowly. "The 'king of cancers.' Do you have any idea what it did to him?"
His voice cracked. "The pain... it ate him from the inside. Every second was torture. And you weren't there."
Nalan's breath hitched. Seven years ago—
She began rambling, explaining her absence, her dreams, her attempts to reach Dai... all unanswered.
She'd assumed he'd hated her for leaving. That he'd chosen to cut her off.
Nanjiro's laugh was bitter. "Liar. Dai tried to contact you. You never replied."
"That's not—"
Then it struck her.
During her comeback, her manager, Marianne, had controlled all communications.
The woman would have hidden Dai's messages.
Nanjiro didn't care for her realization. "Leave. You're not welcome here. Not by me, not by Rinko... and certainly not by Yoru."
Nalan said nothing.
What mother could be forgiven after this?
(What she didn't know—Yoru's hatred wasn't just for Dai's death. It was the rage of two lifetimes of abandonment.)
Silently, she hauled her unconscious assistant up.
"I'll return after handling things in the States," she said, voice steel. "And you don't decide Yoru's future. I'm his mother."
Before Nanjiro could retort, she turned and left.
———
Meanwhile, Yoru remained oblivious to his mother's visit.
His mind was preoccupied—with a flood of [System Notifications] lighting up his thoughts.
[Ding—!]