Kaito stood before the massive ironwood desk, posture straight, eyes steady.
Arase Gyeonjiro did not smile. He did not blink. He simply watched his son with the same intensity one might regard a game piece that had just moved on its own.
"You possess leverage," the Lord repeated, as though carving the words into stone.
Kaito didn't respond. He didn't need to. The silence between them grew thicker by the second, as if even the air was wary of misstep.
Arase finally leaned back, steepling his fingers.
"There are two kinds of fools in this world," he said. "Those who think leverage is force, and those who think it is truth. Tell me, which are you?"
Kaito met his gaze. "Neither."
The Lord raised an eyebrow.
"Leverage," Kaito continued, "is not what you hold—it's what the other cannot afford to lose."
A pause.
Then, the faintest crack of amusement formed in Arase's eyes. It did not reach his mouth.
"You read too much."
"Better that than not enough."
The room went still.
Arase gestured with two fingers, and a servant emerged from the side door, placing a sealed envelope onto the desk between them.
"This arrived from the Inner Court," the Lord said. "It details a full confession from Roh Minato and the Daughters of the Golden Veil regarding stolen shipments."
He let the silence hang.
"I do not tolerate internal theft. That should comfort you."
Kaito inclined his head slightly.
"But."
Arase tapped the envelope.
"The fact that this information arrived so precisely, in such detail, from an anonymous source with no traceable signature, suggests something else." His voice cooled. "Someone is watching this house. Or worse, manipulating it."
Kaito said nothing.
Arase's fingers flexed against the cane's wolf-shaped handle. "There are two reasons I haven't ordered you lashed or silenced."
"Only two?"
Arase ignored the question.
"First: you succeeded. The grain returns to the market. The House's reputation grows stronger. The peasants whisper our name with praise. And every rumor, every 'miracle' they speak of... echoes in favor of Gyeonjiro."
"And the second?"
Arase leaned forward, his eyes sharp as cold steel. "I do not believe in miracles. I believe in function. I believe in cause."
He tapped the desk once.
"And you are functional."
The room exhaled.
Kaito relaxed his fingers, which had subtly clenched at his sides. The Lord's words were not praise. They were currency. Recognition. A conditional acceptance that, for now, he would be used, not discarded.
"I will grant you limited authority," Arase said. "No title. No lands. But I will assign you a steward's ledger for a broken property—one no other heir wanted."
Kaito's eyes narrowed slightly. "Where?"
"East Quarter. The Blight District."
A dead zone. Disease-ridden. Crime-infested. A place where even church relics stopped working properly.
"Why that one?" Kaito asked.
"Because I expect you to fail," Arase said, smiling faintly. "And I do not give gifts. I give tests."
He waved a hand. "Dismissed."
That night, Yuriko visited Kaito's chambers with a quiet knock.
She entered without waiting for permission.
"Is it true?" she asked, standing stiffly. "Did your father grant you a stewardship?"
Kaito nodded. "The Blight District."
Her face paled. "That place is cursed."
"Cursed is just a word people use when they don't understand what's broken."
Yuriko approached him, gripping his sleeve.
"You mustn't go alone. Please. That district… they say even healers disappear there. The church avoids it. Even the tax collectors stopped going. No one returns whole."
"That's why it's perfect."
She blinked. "What?"
Kaito walked to the window, looking out at the moonlit estate gardens below.
"No one's watching. No one's controlling. If I build something there, they won't notice until it's too strong to kill."
Yuriko stared at him, her face pale with disbelief—and awe.
"You're not like them," she whispered. "You're not like this family."
Kaito didn't look back. "That's why I'll win."
The next morning, he was escorted in a small, unmarked carriage, flanked by two silent guards with rusted armor and disinterested expressions.
They stopped before a wide, sunken stone bridge, half-collapsed, covered in vines and the smoke of nearby trash fires.
A crooked sign dangled from rusted hooks.
"District 13 — Entry Upon Risk of Death"
One of the guards spat.
"Lucky brat. You'll be dead in a week."
Kaito stepped down from the carriage and nodded politely. "If I die, tell the Lord he'll need a new test."
The guard scowled.
He crossed the bridge alone.
The stench hit first—mold, waste, soot, and blood mixed with stagnant water. Shacks stacked atop one another like bones in a broken spine. Children watched him from alleys, not with curiosity, but calculation. Their eyes had no light left.
Kaito found a cracked stone building near the edge of a broken plaza. Once a tax hall, now abandoned.
He pushed the doors open. Dust exploded around him.
Inside, sunlight sliced through shattered windows. Rats fled into shadows. A single desk remained upright, half-eaten by time.
He smiled faintly.
Headquarters.
Kaito worked in silence for two hours before footsteps approached.
He didn't turn.
"I was told a noble brat entered this shithole," a voice said, rough and amused. "Didn't believe it 'til I saw you."
Kaito looked up.
The man was tall, lean, with a scar over his lip and silver earrings along one ear. His left sleeve was torn, revealing tattoos of shattered blades curling around his arm.
"Kanzaki Jiroh?" Kaito asked.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"You know me?"
"I know who used to run tax for this district before he was framed by the Church and sold into bonded labor."
Jiroh's smile vanished.
"Who the hell are you?"
Kaito gestured to the dusty floor. "Just another broken piece. Like you."
Jiroh stared at him for a long moment. Then, he laughed—dry, hoarse, surprised.
"You're insane."
"Maybe."
"And what, you want to fix this place?"
Kaito stood.
"I want to give them something better than hope."
"What's that?"
"Options."
That night, Kaito made three lists.
1. What they needed: food, medicine, clean water, security, education.
2. What they had: nothing… except empty land, lawlessness, and no noble oversight.
3. What he had: a name, a ledger, and the illusion of insignificance.
He lit a single candle and began to write.
At dawn, he sent letters—coded, veiled, targeted.
To illegal relic smugglers: offers of safe haven in exchange for service.
To wandering doctors: private stipends if they worked in secrecy.
To old debtors of House Gyeonjiro: forgiveness... if they donated grain to District 13.
And to the Black Ledger Guild: a request for protection, masked as a coin-laundering contract.
By evening, three crows landed on the windowsill—each with a sealed reply.
He read them in order.
Each one said yes.
Kaito folded the letters carefully and placed them in the desk.
Then he looked out the broken window toward the sky.
No stars tonight. Just smoke.
"Let's build a city of ghosts," he whispered.
Three days later, the first true miracle occurred.
A cart full of fresh grain entered the Blight District. No guards. No announcement. No priest.
Just food.
Then came a wagon of medicine. And tools.
Whispers spread faster than rats: The district was waking up.
Kaito stood on the broken plaza steps, watching from above.
Seina appeared beside him, her cane clicking softly.
"You really did it," she whispered. "You moved the system. Without a single coin from your father."
"Not yet," Kaito replied.
She tilted her head. "Then how?"
"I traded silence. Secrets. Debt."
Seina smiled. "You sound like the Church."
"I sound like the future."
By the end of the week, more than twenty families had relocated to the northern quarter of the Blight.
A former guild medic reopened a clinic in an abandoned bathhouse.
Two orphans formed a watch patrol, guarding water barrels and passing out dry bread.
Jiroh became the unofficial head of logistics, screaming at smugglers and stitching ledgers late into the night.
And Kaito?
He watched it all from the center, silent.
Every piece was moving.
Then, one night, it happened.
A letter arrived by hawk.
Unmarked, wax-sealed in gold.
Kaito read the contents, frowning.
He handed it to Jiroh.
The older man read it twice. "Shit."
"Exactly."
"They're sending a Veil Inquisitor?"
Kaito nodded.
"In two days."
"Why?"
Kaito's eyes gleamed.
"Because we've become visible.