Kurogane Shizuku was utterly defeated. Despite giving it her all, she still fell before Raikiri's blade.
Even though she had proven her growth and determination, tears still streamed down her face.
Charles could understand her frustration. Losing to Tōka wasn't what stung the most—it was not being able to join her brother at the Seven Stars Sword-Art Festival that was truly unbearable for her.
Still, it was Ikki's job to comfort her. If not him, then Arisuin Nagi—their genuine friend—was there as well. Charles didn't feel he had the right to intervene.
For Charles, the most pressing matter now was the upcoming trip to Okutama. However, he had no idea that more than one conspiracy was taking shape in the shadows—and that he himself had become entangled in them.
…
Shinjuku had always been one of the most bustling districts in Tokyo. Among the forest of skyscrapers, a thirty-story building stood out even more than the rest.
This was the Japanese branch of the International Mage-Knight League, with the branch director's office located at the very top.
Though it was already night, no lights were on in the office. Illuminated only by the gaudy neon of Shinjuku's skyline, a lone figure sat at a desk.
This was the man who controlled all Mage-Knights in Japan—the current head of the prestigious Kurogane family, the "Ironblood" Kurogane Gensai.
In front of him stood a fat, middle-aged man wearing a sycophantic smile that made him look oddly like one of those Ebisu statues enshrined at a local shrine.
There was a reason he behaved so deferentially before Gensai—not only were they superior and subordinate within the League, the man also came from a Kurogane branch family.
His name was Akaza Mamoru, head of one of the Kurogane family's offshoots.
"You mentioned you had a brilliant idea regarding Kurogane Ikki."
Gensai stared intently at Akaza, clearly intrigued by the proposal he had brought.
"You're aware, of course, that if this continues, Kurogane Ikki will likely secure a spot in the Seven Stars Festival. That would be... troublesome."
Hearing those words, one would never guess that Kurogane Gensai was Ikki's biological father—it sounded more like he was talking about a mortal enemy.
But there was a simple reason for this. Ikki's growing success directly contradicted the ideology Gensai had upheld for years. His progress called into question the legitimacy of the system Gensai had built to control Japan's Mage-Knights.
Therefore, Gensai would go to any lengths to push Ikki out of the world of Mage-Knights—even if it meant targeting his own son.
Akaza had picked up on this and seized the chance to earn favor with the family head.
"Please don't worry, my lord. After all, he's still just a student. He knows nothing about the dangers of the adult world. Just leave everything to me, Akaza Mamoru. Kurogane Ikki will never again be a thorn in your side."
As he spoke, an ominous grin appeared on Akaza's round, supposedly "blessed" face.
…
In stark contrast to the League's headquarters in the heart of the city, this location was remote and desolate—straight out of a villain's hideout.
Like Gensai's office, it was dark. But the atmosphere here felt more like a quagmire—perhaps a result of the sinister aura within.
A modest screen glowed in the center of the room, casting light onto a nearby sofa and the legs of a man sitting upon it.
His face remained obscured in shadow, but what little light revealed of his attire marked him unmistakably: a clown costume.
Strangely, the screen displayed footage from Pojun Academy's internal tournament. The screen was split into several feeds, showing various matches—Tōka Tōka, Takedomi Kanata, Stella, and Charles among them.
"My, my... this year's Pojun Academy sure has produced some impressive talents. Just imagining that these folks might become our enemies gives me a bit of a headache."
Despite his words, the clown didn't seem troubled in the slightest. On the contrary, even with the knowledge that he might face these people, he exuded total confidence.
He didn't particularly care whether this mission succeeded or failed—and more importantly, he trusted the strength of his own allies.
Even though, for secrecy's sake, he hadn't been given access to the full roster, the two operatives under his charge were hardly average.
The most reliable one was right beside him.
Leaning against the wall, completely shrouded in shadow, was a tall young man.
He was also watching the screen, but his focus remained on only two panes—those showing Stella and Charles's matches.
The clown noticed and said, "Oh-ho, so the Crimson Princess has caught your eye? Or rather, she's almost guaranteed to be one of the targets this time."
"I heard you agreed to join this operation just to see her, didn't you?"
The young man responded in a surprisingly cold voice, "The Crimson Princess is still too immature. Right now, I'm more interested in fighting the other one."
The clown followed his gaze to the boy wreathed in flame—just like Stella.
"The transfer student from Shenlong Temple—Charles, was it? He does seem rather exceptional."
"He's strong. None of his matches so far have shown his true power. Except for one…"
The youth trailed off, his tone darkening, as though recalling an unpleasant memory.
The clown, ever oblivious to social cues, cheerfully added, "Ah, you mean that mock battle with your younger brother? Funny how the only match he took seriously was against your naïve little sibling."
The young man snapped coldly, "I already told you—I've severed all ties with the Kurogane family."
Yes, this young man also bore the Kurogane name. He was Ikki's older brother by blood. Honestly, the whole Kurogane clan seemed cursed with abnormal familial relationships.
A father who treated his son like an enemy, an elder brother who had broken all ties, and a sister with severe brother complex… Poor Ikki. Then again, he had run away from home himself—so maybe not that surprising.
The older brother's gaze lingered briefly on Ikki's match footage, utterly devoid of emotion.
"So cold," the clown giggled.
Apparently uninterested in continuing the conversation, the youth turned and prepared to leave. Though they were comrades, he clearly disliked being around the clown.
Meanwhile, the clown leaned forward on the sofa, his eyes now glued to the screens showing Stella and Charles. His lips curled into a grin—stiff and brimming with malice.
Even with his back turned, the young man seemed to sense that smile.
"Hey, Pierrot. I don't know what you're planning, but you'd better behave until the 'eve of war.' Don't waste your energy on meaningless games."
"I'm just a regular student. I don't understand military protocol. But you're with the 'Army.' You should know better than to make a move before the battle begins."
Though warned, the clown didn't seem to care.
"That may be so, but simply waiting around is so boring. I can't stand boring things! Because I'm Pierrot! A clown must always smile—whether doing good or evil, the clown must enjoy himself!"
The young man scoffed, clearly uninterested in this Gotham-reject mindset.
"Same old nonsense. I still don't understand you at all. But whatever—just don't get in my way."
"Hehehe! That's all I ask. After all, if you understood me so easily, that wouldn't be fun at all!"
"But if you do get in my way," the youth said flatly, "I'll be the first to take you down."
"Oh, how scary! Don't worry—I'm just a clown. I only play within the boundaries of 'fun.'"
With that, the young man finally left the room for good.
The clown flexed his fingers and muttered to himself, "Now, who will we find there, I wonder? What kind of performance will this new puppet deliver? Ah, how exciting!"
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