Chapter 53: The Emperor’s Worry

POV: Yumihiro Minami

The boardroom was quiet.

Not the comfortable kind of quiet—this was the kind that followed a verdict. The kind that lingered after power had shifted hands and no one dared speak out of turn.

I sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled, expression carved from marble.

“Kaito Minami has been formally removed from executive authority,” I said evenly. “Effective immediately.”

No tremor. No hesitation.

A few board members nodded. Others avoided my gaze. Good. Fear kept things orderly.

This was necessary. I told myself that again, like a mantra. Necessary. Controlled. Correct.

And yet—

My chest felt too tight.

As the meeting adjourned and the room emptied, the silence returned—thicker now. The glass walls reflected my image back at me: immaculate suit, silver hair brushed neatly back, posture straight.

The man everyone trusted to make impossible decisions.

The man who had just stripped his own son of power.

You did the right thing, I told myself.

If Kaito remained visible, the media would tear him apart. If he retained authority, they would use him as leverage. Removing him was protection. Distance was protection.

That was logic.

Then the report arrived.

“Sir,” one of my aides said carefully, “we’ve confirmed… Kaito is not at his penthouse.”

Not there?

The words struck like ice water.

My expression did not change. It couldn’t.

“Clarify,” I said coolly.

“No sign of him since last night. His phone is inactive.”

My heartbeat spiked.

What do you mean not there.

My mind raced instantly—too fast, too loud.

Did he leave willingly? Was he followed? Did someone corner him? He has no security now. No authority. Nothing.

I stood abruptly. “Prepare a vehicle.”

If he’d gone out alone—if he’d been reckless—if—

He’s not reckless, my mind snapped back. He’s careful. He’s always careful.

Which made it worse.

Careful meant planned.

Planned meant he didn’t want to be found.

My steps echoed sharply as I moved toward the doors. I would find him myself if I had to. I would tear apart the city brick by brick—

“Yumihiro.”

Her voice stopped me instantly.

Ikari Minami stood near the doorway, having watched everything in silence. My wife. My anchor. The only person in the world who could say my name like that and make me pause.

She was dressed simply today—an ivory blouse tucked neatly into a charcoal skirt, sleeves rolled just enough to soften her sharp silhouette. Her dark brown hair was tied into a low knot at the nape of her neck, a few strands loose around her face. Calm. Elegant. Observant.

Her brown eyes—steady, knowing—were already on me.

“You’re panicking,” she said gently.

“I am not,” I snapped.

She raised a brow. “You’re about to personally hunt your adult son through the country without security or information on where he is.”

I clenched my jaw.

He ran. He ran because I pushed him. Because I couldn’t say—

No. That was useless thinking.

“He should not have disappeared,” I said coldly. “It’s irresponsible.”

Inside, something shattered.

He ran away.

My boy ran away.

The image burned behind my eyes—Kaito alone, exhausted, stripped of protection, carrying the weight of everything I’d forced onto his shoulders.

What if he thinks I abandoned him.

My chest hurt.

Ikari stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. The touch was subtle—but grounding.

“You forced him to step down to protect him,” she said quietly. “You did not tell him that. You’ve never told him anything like that.”

I looked away.

I couldn’t.

If I acknowledged it, the fear would swallow me whole.

“I did what was required,” I said stiffly.

“Yes,” she replied. “And now you’re terrified it cost you him.”

Silence.

My hands curled into fists.

Find him. Find him now. What if someone finds him first. What if he’s hurt. What if—

“Ikari,” I said lowly, “if he is harmed—”

“He won’t be,” she interrupted firmly. “He is your son.”

That only made my throat tighten.

I had raised him to be strong. Independent. Untouchable.

I had never raised him to be alone.

Ikari squeezed my arm. “Chasing him in a panic will only make things worse. Let him breathe. Let him choose where to stand.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing the storm inside me back down where no one could see it.

The world could never know that Yumihiro Minami was frightened.

But Ikari knew.

She always did.

“…If he contacts you,” I said, voice controlled once more, “tell me immediately.”

She nodded.

I turned back toward the windows, staring out over the city that had swallowed my son whole.

Outwardly, I was composed. Cold. Calculating.

Inside, I was unraveling—mentally screaming into the silence, clutching at the fear that I might have driven my boy away forever.

Come back, I thought fiercely. Just let me know you’re safe.

I didn’t need forgiveness.

I just needed my son.