Chapter 98: A Letter from the Prison

Fuji's POV.

The Palace is silent.

It is a suffocating silence. He has been in his room for four days.

Four days with no phone. No laptop. No connection to the outside world.

His father, Takahito, is playing a cruel game. He does not yell. He does not lecture. He simply... isolates.

Fuji is being "re-educated." Tutors come in, they lecture him on Imperial history, on duty, on responsibility. They speak as if the Invitational never happened.

As if Aoi never happened.

It is a form of psychological torture, and it is working.

He is starting to doubt.

Did it really happen? Did he really kiss her? Did he really defy his father?

Or was it all a beautiful, chaotic dream?

He is worried.

Aoi is a fighter, but she is also brittle. He knows her trauma. This silence... this "ghosting"... he knows it will be cutting her to the core.

She will think he used her. She will think he abandoned her.

She will go back to being Bloody Twilight. She will build her walls so high, not even he can climb them again.

The thought is unbearable.

"Your Highness."

A new voice. It is not his tutor.

It is a young maid. One he does not recognize. She is bowing low, holding a breakfast tray.

"I... I am not hungry," Fuji says, turning back to the window.

"You must eat, Your Highness," the maid whispers. "To keep up your strength."

She places the tray on his desk.

"The... outside world is very loud, sir," she whispers, her head still bowed.

Fuji turns. "What?"

"The... Twilight-Prince Alliance. They are very devoted. They are selling many keychains of your kiss."

Fuji stares at her. "You... you know?"

The maid looks up. She is young, maybe nineteen. She is blushing.

"Everyone knows, Your Highness," she says. "We are all rooting for you."

She slides the tray closer.

"Please... eat your toast, sir."

She bows again and scurries out of the room.

Fuji looks at the tray. It is simple. Tea. Rice. And toast.

Under the toast.

A folded piece of paper.

A newspaper clipping.

His hands are shaking. He unfolds it.

It is not from the front page. It is from the gaming section.

The headline: "KING DECLARES WAR! DECEPTION'S 'JERK BRIGADE' ATTACKS IMPERIAL SERVER!"

Fuji reads the article.

It details the "disrespectful" and "chaotic" guerilla war being waged by the gamer Deception against the server's oldest guild, The Ancient Dragons.

The Ancient Dragons.

His grandfather's secret guild.

The Jerk Brigade.

Fuji starts to laugh.

It is a low, breathless laugh.

"Toujo," he whispers. "That is a Toujo name."

He reads the article again.

Deception. Daiki.

Daiki is attacking his grandfather.

It is the most idiotic, convoluted, backwards plan he has ever heard of.

It is an Aoi Isuzu plan.

They are not waiting. They are not hiding.

They are fighting.

For him.

His hope, which had been suffocating, comes roaring back to life.

He is not alone.

He looks at the door. His prison.

His father thinks this is over. His father thinks he has won.

But his father does not understand.

He is not fighting a rebellious girl.

He is fighting a King, an Actor, a pair of childhood idiots, and a pragmatic witch-in-training.

And he is fighting Aoi.

"Hold on," Fuji whispers, picking up the piece of toast. "I am holding on."