"The crown means nothing if the people it was made for are already dead."
The palace was quiet.
Not the serene kind of quiet found in temples or under snowfall—but a hushed, suffocating silence. The kind that followed betrayal. Blood still stained the marble steps where her loyalists had fallen during the Council's coup. No one had cleaned it. No one dared.
Seitenshi sat alone on the edge of her once-pristine audience hall, her formal white regalia draped around her like a shroud. Her once-flowing silver cape had been reduced to a cloak of shadows. There were no advisors. No Promoters guarding the walls. Just her—and a dozen silent monitors reflecting the fractured nation she'd failed to hold together.
Behind her, Aldebaran's flag—a scorched remnant of the last great Gastrea war—fluttered in a cracked display case.
She tapped one screen.
District 1: Under direct Council control.
District 2: Riots, food shortages, armed repression.
District 5: Gone. Still smoldering.
District 14: Blacked out entirely.
She let out a slow breath.
"All the power in the world, and I couldn't protect a single one of them."
Her hand tightened on her throne's armrest—no longer a symbol of rule, but of restraint. The Seven Stars Council had left her alive. As a symbol. A ghost. The 'Princess' in name only, held in place like a pageant doll for what remained of the international cameras. The people still whispered her name. Seitenshi-sama. But that name had lost its weight.
A door creaked open. The only one permitted to enter unannounced did so now.
"Still watching the fall?" said the voice.
Seitenshi didn't turn. "Takuto."
Colonel Takuto Asaka stood just inside the doorway, his military coat slung across one shoulder. He had aged rapidly since the coup—gray streaking his once-sharp hair, a tired scar beneath his eye from the failed defense of the palace.
"They're consolidating faster than expected," he said, placing a data pad beside her. "But not without cost. The Council's forcing conscription in District 3. Executions in 8 and 11. And…" He hesitated. "There are rumors about cursed children being shipped outside the walls."
Seitenshi's hands curled into fists.
"They're not just dismantling my government," she said. "They're erasing the idea that peace ever mattered."
Takuto nodded grimly. "Some of your former cabinet are alive. In hiding. They're calling themselves the Phoenix Ring."
Seitenshi's eyes widened faintly. "They think I can lead a rebellion?"
"No," Takuto said. "They think Rentarō Satomi can."
That name.
The boy with the broken heart and steel arm. The only one who hadn't betrayed her. And the only one strong enough to walk away from her when she asked too much.
Seitenshi stood slowly.
"When Rentarō moves," she said, "it won't be for power."
Takuto raised an eyebrow. "Then why?"
Her gaze hardened. "Because even a ruined world needs someone willing to bleed for it."
A pause.
"Find him, Colonel. Quietly."
**Elsewhere — Council Chambers**
The chamber was dim, lit only by an artificial sky projected across the domed ceiling. The seven councilors sat in a circle, their faces hidden by shadow and voice mod filters.
"Seitenshi still breathes," one said. "She will become a beacon for the weak."
"She has no power," another replied. "Only myth."
"Myths spark revolutions," a third warned. "Like the one we silenced years ago."
The first councilor leaned forward. "Then it's time we snuff her out completely."
Silence followed.
And then a voice—smooth, calm, familiar.
"No," said Kisara Tendo, stepping into the chamber's center. "Not yet."
The Council murmured.
"She still holds value. As a tether. As a test. If Satomi believes she can be saved, he will come out of hiding."
"And when he does?" asked one.
Kisara's smile was like ice under glass.
"Then I'll finish what I should have done back at the tower."