The Third Letter

The afternoon sun was setting over Yoyogi Park, bathing the trees in golden light. It was an idyllic scene. Ren and Akira were walking along the main path. Akira was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, and Ren was wearing a casual jacket that had been selected by a stylist that very morning. They walked arm in arm, smiling occasionally.

For the photographers hiding in the bushes, whose location had been conveniently leaked by Ryōma's secretary, they were the picture of young, wealthy happiness. For them, it was just another Tuesday in hell.

“ Smile, Ren, they're watching us. ” Akira whispered without moving his lips as he greeted a girl passing by. “ There's a telephoto lens at three o'clock. ”

“ I'm not going to smile for a bunch of unknown photographers, probably sent by my father.” Ren replied.

They weren't there for fun. It was part of the strict schedule their parents had imposed on them: Tuesdays were for public outings to improve the family's image. As they walked away from the crowd, looking for a moment of peace near the central fountain, something happened.

A young boy wearing a gray sweatshirt with the hood up walked quickly past them. It was a quick, sudden movement. The boy stumbled slightly, bumping his shoulder against Ren. “ Sorry.” he muttered in a deep, rapid voice. Before Ren could respond or the bodyguards watching over him in the distance could react, the boy blended into the crowd and disappeared.

Ren felt something in his pocket, so he touched it and felt something there. Something that wasn't there before. He looked at Akira. She had noticed the exchange. She stepped between Ren and the guards' line of sight. “ Read it. ” she whispered. “ Quickly. ”

Ren took out the object. It was an envelope. But it wasn't just any envelope. It was made of black paper with no return address. It only had his name written on it in sharp, hurried handwriting: Ren Shinomiya.

Ren opened it. Inside was a simple card with no gold embellishments or corporate logos. The message was brief but laden with a warning.

"Prince of Ice:

You are being invited to the annual gala, but you know full well that you are entering a war. The battle between Minamoto and your family is about to intensify. You think there are two sides, but the board is bigger than your father imagines. Prepare yourself for what is to come at the Gala. Do not trust the bright lights. See you on the battlefield."

There was no signature. Ren read the note twice. His heart was pounding. It wasn't a death threat. It was a warning. Who knew so much about the war between the families? Who dared to call this a battlefield? The handwriting seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. “ Who is it? ” asked Akira, reading over his shoulder. “ I don't know. ” admitted Ren, putting the letter back in his inside pocket. “ But he knows what's going to happen. ”

Hours later, back at the Shinomiya mansion, the contrast couldn't have been greater.

Ryōma Shinomiya welcomed them in the main hall. He was radiant with arrogance. Naoki entered with the usual silver tray. “ Sir. Urgent message from the Shibuya Committee. ”

Ryōma took the envelope. It was white, heavy, with royal gold edges. The official invitation. “The Annual Gala.” Ryōma announced, holding it up like a trophy. “ This is where we'll crush the Minamoto." He looked at Ren and Akira. ” Get your best outfits ready. We're going. And we're not just going; we're going to dominate. I have a surprise in store that will leave Kaguya trembling."

Ren looked at the golden invitation in his father's hand, remembering the black letter in his pocket. His father thought he was in control of the game. He thought it was a war between two sides: Shinomiya vs. Minamoto. But the black letter said otherwise.

“ We'll go. ” Ren said. His voice sounded different this time. More alert. More dangerous. “Excellent,” Ryōma said, not noticing the change. “ Akira, make sure he looks impeccable. ”

As they left the room, Akira looked at Ren. “ Your father has his invitation. ” she said. “And you have yours. It looks like the Gala is going to be more interesting than I thought.” Ren nodded. He looked out the dark window, wondering who that shadow in the park was. “ Someone else is playing, Akira. And they want me to be ready for what's coming. ”

Ren wouldn't go to the gala just as his father's pawn. He would go as a player who had been warned.

The war was about to begin.