Chapter 209: The Clown!
However, this supposedly grand, "righteously indignant" declaration of rebellion and historical ownership was met by absolutely nothing but a light, incredibly dismissive laugh from the man seated casually in the main position of the great hall.
Suzaku finally lifted his heavy eyelids, fully observing the so-called "loyal retainer" kneeling on the floor with keen, almost clinical interest.
He spoke slowly, his tone completely relaxed. His voice was not loud, yet it carried a strange, resonant weight that clearly echoed throughout the entire, cavernous hall, piercing directly through the stifling tension and straight into the racing hearts of both Denjiro and the trembling Kozuki Hiyori.
"Oh?"
Suzaku leaned slightly forward on the grand throne, casually resting his elbows on his knees. He looked down at the furious samurai and asked unhurriedly, his eyes completely devoid of the fear Denjiro had hoped to inspire.
"You say, with such absolute, unwavering conviction, that Wano Country belongs inherently to the Kozuki Clan?"
He paused, tapping his chin with a finger as if trying to recall a very trivial, insignificant matter from a dusty history book.
"But if I recall correctly... before my crew and I arrived and took over this island, the one ruling this place, sitting in this exact capital, was Beast Kaido, right?"
Denjiro's throat suddenly constricted. The fiery roar of rebellion he was preparing to unleash was abruptly and painfully caught in his throat, suffocated by the sheer bluntness of the fact.
Suzaku seemed completely not to notice the samurai's sudden, choking distress, continuing his measured, razor-sharp speech.
"And he didn't just rule for a few days. He ruled this land with an iron fist for two full decades. I took this country directly from Kaido's hands. I didn't use poison, I didn't use politics. I took it openly, through the absolute superiority of sword and gun, leaving his corpse on the battlefield."
His words were incredibly precise, acting like a cold, sterilized scalpel. He was methodically, precisely dissecting the thick, glorious outer layer of "righteous cause" that Denjiro wore like armor, violently exposing the pale, diseased, and utterly ridiculous reality hidden beneath.
Suzaku watched with mild amusement as the older man's face went through a rapid, spectacular transformation—turning from a flush, angry red to a sickly, ashen blue.
The curve of Suzaku's lips widened into a predatory smile as he casually asked the most damning, inescapable question:
"So, tell me, Denjiro. How is it that, coming from your mouth, it sounds exactly as if I swooped in and stole something that currently belonged to your precious Kozuki Clan?"
He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes showing a trace of pure, unfiltered curiosity mixed with a heavy dose of absolute mockery. He then spoke the words that utterly and completely crushed Denjiro's remaining psychological defenses.
"You and your loyalists haven't been in power here for twenty years... yet now that the invincible Kaido is finally dead, you suddenly pop up out of the dirt demanding the keys to the castle?"
Denjiro's world violently spun. A sudden, deafening buzz filled his ears, a physical manifestation of his cognitive dissonance collapsing in on itself.
Suzaku seemed not to notice—or simply didn't care about—the samurai's face, which had now turned from ashen to a ghastly, dead white. The captain merely shifted into a much more comfortable, lazy posture on the throne before unhurriedly delivering the devastating second blow.
"Nearly twenty years."
He held up two fingers, his tone as casual and calm as if he were discussing the mild weather outside the palace windows.
"Kaido sat right here, heavily preying on the common folk, turning this beautiful country into a toxic wasteland for nearly twenty full years. And during all that time, you proud, mighty samurai hid in the shadows like terrified rats in a gutter, not daring to make a single, decisive peep against his main forces."
Suzaku's eyes narrowed. "Now, I have personally slaughtered the unkillable dragon that terrified you, and suddenly, you magically find your courage. You crawl out of the dark cracks in the ground, puff out your chests, and start screaming, 'This house is mine!'"
Suzaku smiled, his handsome expression full of undisguised, biting mockery that cut deeper than any physical blade ever could.
"Don't you think... the timing of your grand 'rebellion' is just a little too incredibly convenient?"
"That's because...!"
Denjiro was violently forced to the absolute edge of the psychological cliff. He roared feebly, his voice cracking as he desperately searched his mind for the last, fraying excuse to justify his completely ridiculous sense of righteousness.
"We were silently accumulating our strength! It was a necessary tactical retreat to protect the precious lives of more samurai! We couldn't throw our lives away senselessly!"
He pointed a shaking finger at Suzaku, his eyes wide and manic.
"And... and Lady Toki's absolute prophecy already explicitly decreed that after twenty years, the nine shadows of the Kozuki Clan would surely defeat Kaido and bring the dawn! It was destiny! Even without your uninvited interference, we would have eventually defeated him tonight! The rightful masters of Wano Country will only ever be us samurai!"
As the words left his mouth, they echoed hollowly in the massive hall. Even Denjiro himself, deep down in his soul, found this desperate, destiny-reliant explanation incredibly weak, pale, and pathetic.
"Oh, is that so?" Suzaku's smile instantly became much more playful, but his eyes were completely dead and devoid of warmth.
"You mean that samurai lives matter so much, they are so inherently precious, that they absolutely must be 'protected' by hiding in the capital and running Yakuza gangs for the enemy?"
He nodded slowly, as if digesting the profound hypocrisy. Then, his tone changed sharply. The casual drawl vanished, his voice suddenly turning as cold and hard as a glacier.
"Then what about the millions of commoners in Wano Country? What about the farmers, the children, the elderly who were slowly, agonizingly driven to death by Kaido's enforcers and the toxic runoff from the weapon factories over these past twenty years? Did their lives... simply not matter to your grand prophecy?"
Suzaku sneered, a sound of pure disgust. "How incredibly ironic."
Suzaku stood up from the throne. He slowly paced down the short flight of stairs, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the polished stone floor. Every single step seemed to land with crushing force directly on Denjiro's violently beating heart.
"You loudly shout about 'honor.' You endlessly scream that you are doing this 'for Wano Country,' and your beautiful, patriotic slogans are much louder than anyone else's."
Suzaku stopped pacing, folding his arms across his chest.
"But beautiful slogans can easily lie to the masses. The empty, starving stomachs of the common people, however, absolutely will not."
He stopped directly in front of Denjiro. He looked down at the kneeling man, his dark gaze like a heavy, physical blade, mercilessly scraping away the very last, desperate layer of his 'loyalty and righteousness' facade, inch by agonizing inch.
"Stop pretending, Denjiro. You can drop the noble act. You weren't fighting for the freedom of Wano Country at all. You were just desperately trying to maintain your own superior, aristocratic 'samurai' privileges over the working class."
Suzaku leaned down slightly, his voice a harsh whisper.
"Look at the absolute truth. I arrived, I conquered, and I immediately declared that under my rule, there are no more nobles. There are no more inherent privileges based on bloodlines. Whether you are a dirt-poor commoner or a high-born samurai, everyone is treated equally under my laws."
Suzaku's mouth curled in profound, utter disdain.
"And the moment you realized you would have to work for a living like everyone else... you panicked."
"That's not true!"
A woman's voice, high-pitched and choked with heavy, desperate sobs, violently broke the heavy silence of the great hall.
It was Kozuki Hiyori.
Teary-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a storm, she shook her head desperately. She was trying with all her fragile might to defend the "loyal retainer" who was now sitting utterly exposed and broken on the floor.
"It's not like that at all! You're wrong!" Hiyori cried out, her hands clutching the fabric of her kimono over her heart. "Denjiro... he suffered so much! He even transformed himself into the 'Ushimitsu Kozo'—the Witching Hour Boy—to secretly rob the rich and help the poor commoners! He was always striving for the good of everyone in the shadows!"
This innocent, tearful, deeply naive defense seemed to be the final, heavy straw that completely broke the camel's back.
"Oh? Rob the rich and help the poor?"
Albedo, who had been standing perfectly still and entirely silent by the throne this entire time, finally reacted. She let out a sharp, incredibly condescending scoff.
She slowly turned her gaze towards Hiyori. Her mesmerizing golden eyes were narrowed, looking at the princess exactly like one would look at a pathetic, brainless fool who had been kept too sheltered from the harsh realities of the world.
"My dear, incredibly naive Princess," Albedo purred, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness.
She took a graceful step forward, her pristine white dress flowing around her.
"When Lord Suzaku instructed me to closely monitor the movements of you and your little band of samurai, I took the liberty of thoroughly checking this 'loyal samurai's' deep background and financial records."
Her voice was sweet, melodic, yet unbelievably cruel. Every single word she spoke transformed into a sharp, jagged blade, violently piercing through Hiyori's last, desperate illusion of her savior.
"The so-called noble act of 'robbing the rich and helping the poor' was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated farce. It was merely his personal, highly effective method of eliminating political dissidents and violently striking down rival Yakuza bosses who hindered his disguise as Kyoshiro."
Albedo smiled, a chilling expression that promised no mercy.
"His only goal in playing the thief was simply to secure his own ascent, to get closer to Orochi, and to successfully become his most trusted, powerful official money changer and head of the capital guards."
Albedo bowed slightly, using the most elegant, flawless aristocratic posture possible to deliver the most vicious, soul-crushing truth.
"As for 'helping the poor'... Princess, please use your brain for a single moment. Did even a single, solitary copper coin of the massive wealth he plundered ever actually reach the calloused hands of those starving, dying commoners in Ebisu Town or the outer regions?"
Albedo straightened up, her golden eyes flashing with dark amusement.
"No. Absolutely not. All of that stolen money was secretly funneled away. It was used entirely to bribe corrupt officials and to secretly feed and raise a private army of other destitute, completely useless samurai who refused to work."
She stepped closer to Denjiro, looking down at him with absolute revulsion.
"He is nothing but a filthy opportunist who casually stepped over the bloody corpses of his own colleagues. He used the genuine, horrific suffering of the populace as a convenient disguise, only to climb the political ranks and secure power for himself... and this absolute parasite became a legendary hero who 'robbed the rich and helped the poor' in your mouth?"
Albedo's beautiful mouth bore a gentle, Madonna-like smile, yet the heavy, undeniable words she spoke would make the most hardened demons of hell tremble in fear.
"A foolish, sheltered person, truly and utterly spun around by obvious lies... how utterly disgusting."
At these heavy, crushing words, the other women in the hall reacted.
Esdeath, leaning against a pillar, let out a cold, dismissive snort. Rem and Ram, standing dutifully by the doors, both cast completely undisguised, piercing glances of profound contempt toward the kneeling Denjiro.
Their collective gaze was exactly like looking at a piece of rotting, irredeemable trash that had somehow dirtied their pristine floor.
As for Kozuki Hiyori, she was completely struck by lightning.
She froze perfectly in place, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down at Denjiro's trembling back in absolute, horrifying disbelief, her voice shaking so uncontrollably it barely sounded human.
"Is... is what she said... true? Denjiro... the money... it didn't go to the people?"
It's over.
Everything is completely over.
When he slowly turned his head and saw Hiyori's completely shattered, horrified gaze staring down at him, Denjiro knew with absolute certainty that his very last shred of human dignity had been violently stripped away.
He was trapped in solid ice. He felt exactly like a painted clown standing center stage under a glaring spotlight. All of his decades of agonizing struggles, all of his brilliant disguises, and all of his supposed righteousness had been effortlessly reduced to a pathetic, transparent joke.
A sudden, overwhelming rush of extreme, suffocating malice and absolute self-abandonment instantly broke through all his carefully constructed mental defenses.
His mind snapped.
He suddenly threw his head back and laughed hysterically, the sound harsh and grating. Thick, hot tears streamed down his contorted, unrecognizable face.
"Hahaha... Hahahaha! That's right! It's all true! Every single word of it!"
He admitted it recklessly, entirely abandoning his noble facade. He tilted his head up, staring fixedly at Suzaku with a malicious, deeply twisted, and completely insane gaze.
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