The dull clatter of his sword against the ground attested to his distress. This was the first time the apathetic man had ever laid his emotions bare.
As the emperor stood there stock-still, the Shu Maiden—no, the one masquerading as her—elegantly rose to her feet and bowed. “Allow me to formally introduce myself, Your Majesty. I am the empress’s niece, Crown Prince Gyoumei’s Maiden, and a daughter of the Kou: Kou Reirin. For the time being, I have traded bodies with Lady Keigetsu.”
“But…I was told you had reversed the switch…”
“Oh, I’m sure. I asked Akim to lie and say that we had already switched back.”
After their discussion the previous night, Reirin and Keigetsu had opted not to return to their own bodies and instead pretend to have done so.
Turning to Akim, she added, “I admittedly had my concerns that you might betray us, so I’m glad you went ahead with the plan as discussed.”
“Well, I did consider double-crossing you instead, but then this guy welcomed me back from an all-nighter by chucking swords and dumping water on me. I was feeling a teensy bit ticked off.” With a shrug, Akim concluded, “So I figured, hey, why not let things take their course?”
“Tan, you weasel!” Genyou glared at his spy, pale with fury. Then he turned his piercing gaze on his sword-wielding son. “Gyoumei, you dare side with a mere Maiden over the emperor? You would point a blade at your own father?!”
Gyoumei didn’t so much as flinch, soberly responding, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose. I hear you watched the former emperor succumb to poison without lifting a finger.”
Genyou’s scowl deepened.
“Your Majesty,” Reirin unhurriedly cut in. “We executed this bold strategy in hopes of confirming something.”
Her pensive gaze settled on the sword Genyou had dropped, as well as his trembling hands. The man had never shown enough emotion to glower at someone before. It was a sign that the imperturbable emperor had lost his composure.
“Despite your suspicions that Lady Keigetsu was a practitioner of the Daoist arts, you never jumped straight to apprehending or torturing her. You let us run free in the outer city, you sounded her out via conversation at Cloud Ladder Gardens, and only once you were convinced she was a practitioner did you take up a sword. And now, you are deeply distraught to find that your assumption was incorrect.” Reirin took a step toward Genyou. “I always found it strange that you were so cautious. It was almost as though you were attempting to ascertain something. Or as though you feared the very notion of failing to see through a swap.”
Something about Akim’s story had struck Reirin as odd. When asked about Gomei’s death, Genyou had supposedly grimaced and said, “I made an irreparable mistake,” but he wasn’t one to be racked with such intense guilt over merely failing to save his benefactor from an assassin. It also reminded her of how, after failing to notice she was swapped and sentencing her to death, Gyoumei had once blanched and uttered those exact same words.
The clincher had been what Keigetsu said.
“If the worst-case scenario happens before His Majesty realizes we’ve switched places…”
The worst-case scenario.
“Your Majesty, you didn’t simply let Prince Gomei die.”
The water Reirin had poured on herself dripped down her face, and she wiped it away with her fingers. She had no more need of stage props.
“Oblivious to the fact that the sorcerer and prince had switched bodies, you attempted to strike down the assassin—and ended up killing the prince instead.”
Genyou sucked in a sharp breath, while Reirin reflected on her conversation with Keigetsu the previous night.
“His Majesty killed Prince Gomei on the assumption that he was the sorcerer?”
“Most likely, yes.”
This was when they were all sitting around the fire, just after Reirin had abruptly declared that she had an idea of how to persuade Genyou. The rest of the group was goggling at her in confusion, so Reirin proceeded to explain her thought process.
“Those of the Gen clan do have a tendency to grow abnormally attached. If His Majesty sat back and allowed someone important to him to die, it’s only natural that he would loathe the one responsible. However, if Prince Gomei were merely killed by an assassin, I don’t think he would frame it as ‘an irreparable mistake.’”
Keigetsu gave a noncommittal nod. “Well, I suppose it’s a possibility…” She clearly found this too big a leap in logic.
“What’s more, I’ve felt that His Majesty has been overly cautious about verifying whether you’re a sorcerer.”
“I’ve wondered about that as well,” Keishou chimed in, glancing over from where he sat. “Given His Majesty’s standing, he would be within his rights to take the approach of ‘guilty until proven innocent’ and torture or execute anyone he finds suspicious. Instead, he takes the time to carefully assess the suspect. I had written it off as a personality quirk, but it makes more sense to assume there’s a story behind it.”
Ever since Genyou had attempted to discern Keigetsu’s true identity through conversation, Keishou had gotten the sense that he was taking a rather roundabout approach.
Across the fire, Akim stroked his chin, impressed. “Interesting. He’s already failed to see through a swap once before, and that’s why he’s being more careful this time around. It sure explains why he’s been dragging his feet about getting the deed done.” He nodded to himself, then pulled a face. “Assuming it’s true, anyway. Gotta wonder why he’d send someone after his enemy while withholding such a crucial piece of information.”
Akim sounded a bit annoyed to discover that despite enlisting his help, Genyou had been keeping such a big secret from him for the past twenty-five years.
Surprisingly, Gyoumei’s response was sympathetic to his father. “I doubt it would be easy for him to admit. He failed to see through to who his loved one really was, and all his efforts to protect that person only hurt him. The guilt is suffocating enough when the victim survives, so supposing it ended in death…” He trailed off there. After a few moments, a rueful smile came to his face. “No doubt that’s our best angle of attack.”
Silence fell, save for the crackling of firewood.
After some debate, Reirin gingerly placed a hand over Gyoumei’s. “I do not wish to hurt His Majesty’s feelings without cause. I simply want him to realize that killing off anyone he deems useless is not the best way to go about his revenge.” Gyoumei turned to look at her. Reirin met his gaze, unwavering. “I am not out to condemn His Majesty. If he is willing to come around to our point of view, we can help him. All I want is to make him understand that.”
Once she saw the tension bleed from her fiancé’s shoulders, Reirin looked out over the whole group and announced, “On that note, I will play the part of ‘Shu Keigetsu’ right up until the moment His Majesty swings down his blade. My plan is to confront him with the fact that he cannot see through a body swap on his own, thus proving that he needs the help of an expert.”
The men and court ladies were already giving her proposal serious consideration, quietly pressing their hands to their mouths or nodding along.
“H-hold it right there!” Keigetsu interjected, pitching forward in disbelief. “That all hinges on you pulling off a decent imitation of me!”
“Correct.”
“It’s never going to happen!”
“Hm?” Reirin blinked. “That’s not true. I have spent the past month tricking the secret service into believing I’m you. Why, you could call me a professional in the field of Shu Kei—”
“Take a look around and recall how that worked out for you! Our secret is out! And if we go back further, His Highness, the court ladies, the captain of the Eagle Eyes, your brothers, and the other Maidens all figured out who you really were! Wake up to reality, you ham actress!”