Sitting in the embrace of a wooden gazebo nestled in the garden, Yura found solace in meditation. Her attire had transformed, courtesy of Shinrou Rokuro, who had provided her with new clothes. She now adorned a gray kimono, its elegant folds complemented by a wide, vibrant blue obi wrapped around her waist.

In the past, such clothing had been but a distant dream for a peasant girl like her, an unattainable fantasy. And yet, it had materialized before her very eyes. The kimono surpassed even her wildest imaginings—the fabric soft and exquisite, a stark contrast to the tattered rags of her past.

But all that ceased to matter now. She existed in a different realm, a world where her physical form remained suspended in place. Her muscles felt unresponsive, sluggish, while her heart beat steadily, each pulse resounding in her chest. She took languid, deep breaths, exhaling even more slowly, all that while delving into these peculiar sensations.

The wind brushed against her cheek, a persistent assault of air as if attempting to dislodge her head from her shoulders. She felt its unyielding pressure against her skin as if hours had passed, though in reality, only minutes elapsed.

The firmness of the wooden seat beneath her became a sensory adventure in itself. Though she couldn't see it with her eyes, her body relayed every detail to her consciousness. She discerned each gap between the planks, every uneven surface and subtle bump.

Her nose detected the mingling aromas of the surrounding flowers, blending together in a symphony of scents. And yet, she possessed the uncanny ability to distinguish each individual ingredient within this fragrant concoction.

Despite these newfound perceptions, she had not yet reached her destination. She couldn't penetrate the veil that obscured her world of senses. And yet, she knew it existed—like an impenetrable wall or an unconquerable castle.

Lost in her exploration of this strange new realm, Yura failed to notice the gradual approach of Shinrou Rokuro. His footsteps interwove with the symphony of murmuring streams, chirping birds, and rustling leaves. It was only when he drew near that his presence became the loudest addition to the cacophony, prompting her to open her eyes. She observed his final steps, halting as he stood before her, his gaze fixated solely upon her. They remained motionless, a silent exchange between two figures as they only stared at one another.

"You need to come with me," he eventually declared.

"Where?" she inquired, her voice devoid of emotion.

"The emperor himself has requested your presence. You shall accompany me to the palace," he informed her.

It felt as though two puppets conversed, their faces blank, their words the sole expression of life.

"I will go," she acquiesced, slowly rising to her feet. With measured steps, she departed the gazebo, joining the captain.

Without uttering a word, he pivoted on his heel, setting off on his path. It was evident that their destination lay beyond the front gate of his humble estate.

In the very heart of the compound stood the main building, serving as his residence alongside the three wolves—though Milo remained confined within a cage—and several smaller structures dotted the outskirts of the garden, reserved for the servants and featuring a discreet rear entrance, just for them.

Within those walls, they lived their lives—preparing his meals, tending to his flowers, and fulfilling every demand issued by the captain. Yura became a part of this routine, though no one dared to speak to her. While she found sanctuary there, she remained an outcast, which deepened her commitment to meditation. She would only break her focus briefly to attend to Milo.

The wolf was improving. The wound on his forehead had left a scar, and though he remained apathetic, he was no longer a mere skeletal frame adorned with a meager layer of fur. He was regaining his weight.

Lost in her thoughts of Milo, Yura barely registered passing among the buildings of the military district, teeming with soldiers engrossed in their duties. In the distance, on the fast plaza, rows of them, clad in dark uniforms, practiced sword, shouting loudly with each swing, according to the guidance of their instructor. It was only upon reaching a massive red gate, the seemingly sole passage through the towering walls, that she snapped out of her introspection. Guards peered from behind the battlements atop the wall.

"Open the gate!" one of the guards shouted upon recognizing the captain's presence.

Beyond the gate lay an even more breathtaking sight. A vast garden unfolded before her, adorned with trees, flowers, streams, fountains, and occasional statues. It spanned a greater expanse than the rice fields where she had toiled in the past.

At the end of a winding, paved path, she caught sight of another wall, considerably shorter this time, with two guards barely discernible against the lush greenery and vibrant hues of the vegetation. That was where Shinrou Rokuro led her.

The two soldiers immediately swung open the gate upon spotting their approach. The path flowed seamlessly into a grand palace, its many red roofs soaring high, dominating the landscape from the rear. In the center of the space, an open courtyard beckoned. Gray stone plates covered the ground, leading eventually to a flight of stairs that marked the entrance to the awe-inspiring structure.

Up close, Yura beheld the black wood and golden ornaments adorning the palace. Under the arcades, a multitude of people strolled by. White-clad servants bustled about, while dignitaries wore more colorful kimonos. She noticed that officials often favored red garments adorned with golden decorative elements, while the noblemen eschewed a particular color scheme.

There were people garbed in white, black, and blue. The ladies, in particular, donned vibrant hues—pinks, oranges, greens, and yellows. They resembled dolls, with porcelain-like faces framed by obsidian-black hair, often adorned with flowers or golden hairpins bearing precious gems.

For a poor peasant girl like her, it was difficult not to be mesmerized by this extravagant display of wealth. Were it not for the captain's urging, she would have stood there, mouth agape, staring in awe.

As they crossed the plaza and approached the grand staircase, Shinrou Rokuro began to be recognized. Bows were exchanged, and greetings passed between individuals, leading them ultimately to step into the magnificent interior, bathed in dim, enchanting light.

She strained her eyes, but couldn't discern the sources of light that hinted at the clever ways sunlight was allowed to permeate the chambers.

Walking through the corridors, they arrived before two imposing guards clad in heavy black steel armor, their faces obscured by masks. Towering naginatas rested firmly in their grasp as they stood in silence before a paper wall. To Yura, they resembled the towering figure of Whurel, although lacked something that he had. An enigmatic characteristic that she wouldn’t be able to name even if she tried.

"Invitation from the emperor himself," Shinrou Rokuro announced without prompt.

Silently, the guards pulled back the sides of the wall, revealing a wooden chamber. It was bare, save for ceremonial scrolls adorning the walls and equally ceremonial weapons on display. Another paper wall stood opposite, where Yura caught a glimpse of a silhouette seated upon a throne.

The emperor was flanked by the silhouettes of several more men on each side.

Removing his shoes and dropping to his knees, Shinrou Rokuro began his approach toward the emperor. After a moment of confusion, the girl followed suit, her tight kimono making the task considerably more challenging.

"That's enough!" a surprisingly high-pitched voice interrupted them.

"My emperor, the sun that rises above the land!" Shinrou Rokuro proclaimed loudly and with unwavering clarity, before bowing so deeply that his forehead touched the floor.

After another moment of hesitation, the girl mimicked the action, though she dared not utter a word.

"You requested to see the girl. This is her," the soldier continued.

"Was she with the boy?" the emperor inquired once more.

"Yes."

"Girl, tell me, where did your friend go?" the high-pitched voice pressed.

Her mouth opened, but the words refused to escape. She had to force them out. "I-I don't k-know," she stuttered.

"Hmpf! Keep an eye on her, captain. She could prove useful in the future! Now leave," the emperor commanded.

"I will, my emperor!" Shinrou Rokuro reassured, gradually retreating on his knees, never daring to turn his back on the ruler.

Yura mimicked his movements until they were outside, and the paper wall closed, sealing off the audience chamber.

Putting their shoes on, the two embarked on their journey back. Meanwhile, back in the room the silhouette of a surprisingly short and plump man rose from the throne and began walking to the side, trailed by the retinue of people who accompanied him. One man, however, remained.

Clearly, he was fixated on the spot where he had seen the girl, his gaze lingering as his fingers gently caressed his long beard, contemplating something. Eventually, he too departed, hastening to catch up with the throng of officials trailing behind the emperor.