CHAPTER 1 — PART 9: IT HAS BEEN DECIDED.

The room was heavy.

Dark wood. Low lights. Air so thick you could barely breathe.

A massive table took up most of the space, and the women sitting around it were not the kind you wanted to cross.

These were the people who ran things. The people who held the strings.

At the head of the table sat my mother.

She looked perfect. Regal. Untouchable.

Her eyes slowly swept across the room, demanding silence without her having to say a word.

"Minister Oshima," a woman named Hinata Yoshitaka finally said. Her voice was careful. Respectful, but firm. "We are here to discuss a matter that cannot wait. The Malice. A power that has defined our nation for generations."

Mother nodded slowly.

She knew.

They all knew.

Malice wasn't just magic.

It was history.

And it belonged to women.

"Yes," another woman said. Kohana Kuroda. Her tone was sharp. Cold. "And yet, that history is now fractured. The tradition has been broken. Yami is a man."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Murmurs started up.

Uncomfortable shifts in seats.

Frowns.

To them, a man having the Malice was not just strange.

It was wrong.

It was a violation of everything they believed in.

Mother's voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"I understand your concerns, ladies. Tradition is not easy to set aside. But the world is not standing still, and neither can we. Yami possesses Malice. That is a fact. And Malice does not care about gender."

A woman with silver hair leaned forward. Kimiko Saionji. Her eyes were hard.

"Minister Oshima, are we truly supposed to hand the nation's greatest weapon to a male? Men do not have the discipline for this. The balance of the Malice could be completely destroyed."

"And if he loses control?" another woman added. "If his body cannot handle the strain? We risk a disaster."

Mother did not blink.

She did not back down.

"We cannot deny what he is. He has the Scent. He has the connection. To ignore that would be far more dangerous. We must evolve, or we will be left behind by our own power."

The room went dead silent.

This was a government built on old rules and old corruption.

Mother was standing against the tide, and they knew it.

Finally, a woman with piercing blue eyes spoke up.

"And if this experiment fails, Aimi? If he misuses the power?"

Mother smiled.

Just a little.

"Then it is our duty to guide him. To shape his understanding of this power. We cannot shun him out of fear. We must control the outcome by keeping him close."

The tension started to break.

Not because they agreed, but because they respected her strength.

Then Riko Takahashi, one of the more calculating officials, folded her hands on the table.

"If we proceed, Minister Oshima, we cannot do it blindly. We must be absolutely sure he can handle the weight of the Malice. We cannot afford a mistake."

Mother nodded.

"I agree."

The room held its breath.

They were talking about a power that could change reality.

And it was inside a man.

Mother leaned forward slightly.

"We will test him. We must see his limits. We must know if he can wield the Malice without letting it consume him."

Riko narrowed her eyes.

"And if he is consumed? If the darkness takes him over?"

Mother's expression turned cold.

Unforgiving.

"Then we intervene. For the good of the nation. We do what is necessary to protect the legacy. No matter how difficult the choice."

The officials absorbed that.

They understood what she meant.

If he failed, they would erase him.

One by one, the women nodded.

The vote was silent, but it was absolute.

The trial was set.

My fate was decided.

"...And that, Yami, is why this trial is so important."

Mother's tone was entirely different now.

Playful.

Light.

Like she hadn't just sat in a room discussing whether I deserved to live or die.

We were in a restaurant.

Dim lighting.

Quiet music.

Plates that probably cost more than my life.

I stared at the tiny piece of meat on my plate.

"Why the hell are we in a place like this?"

She chuckled.

"What? Is it a crime to treat my dear son to a nice meal?"

I groaned.

She was acting strange.

Too elegant.

Too flirty.

"Fine. But I feel completely out of place."

"Oh, darling, you need to get used to it. You are an Oshima. This is your world now."

"My world... right."

"As my only son, I have every right to spoil you rotten."

"Please don't."

"Too bad~"

I took a sip of water from a ridiculously thin glass.

"Alright. So what is this trial you keep talking about?"

She grinned.

Her eyes sparkled with a terrifying kind of excitement.

"You're joining a tournament!"

She actually gave me a thumbs-up.

I stared at her.

"A tournament. You're kidding."

"I'm perfectly serious."

"At least someone believes in me," I muttered.

She laughed again.

"Oh, Yami. It's not that simple. There is a catch."

My chest tightened.

"There's always a catch. What is it?"

"You are not allowed to use Amai."

I stopped chewing.

I swallowed hard.

"Ah. Damn it."

Without Amai, I was barely anything.

"The conditions are simple," Mother said, tapping her finger on the table. "Win the tournament. Do not use Amai. And do not let your Malice consume you."

I put my fork down.

"Mother. I got here a week ago. And you expect me to win a tournament?"

Her smile didn't waver.

"You are an Oshima, Yami. Never forget that. The blood of warriors runs through you."

I ran a hand through my hair.

This was insane.

Then I remembered something.

"By the way... why does everyone call you Queen? Are you famous or something?"

She took a delicate bite of her food.

"Oh, that. I'm the Minister of Kazumaki."

I nearly choked on my water.

"You're the what?!"

She shrugged.

"The Minister."

That explained everything.

The power.

The respect.

The fear.

Suddenly, Amai materialized beside me.

She looked irritated.

She usually did, but this was worse.

"How much time does he have?" she demanded, glaring at Mother.

Mother didn't even look at her.

"Until April 21st."

I did the math in my head.

"Four months. Is that enough?"

Mother looked at me.

Her eyes were dead serious.

"No."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then Amai sighed.

"...Maybe."

I looked at my hands.

Four months.

A tournament.

No Amai.

It felt impossible.

But then, my mind drifted.

Back to my old room.

Back to the screen.

New Storm Online.

I used to be someone in that game.

I used to have a reputation.

I used to fight for the top spot against Crimson Rose.

We never met.

We probably never would.

But back then, I knew how to fight.

I knew how to win.

Revenge was a terrible reason to get stronger.

I knew that.

But this?

A tournament?

A chance to actually prove I belonged in this world?

That felt different.

It felt real.

I clenched my fists under the table.

This was my chance.

My resurgence.

And I wasn't going to waste it.

"All right, I'll do it... I'll show everyone that a man can fight, that I am an Oshima." My eyes were set, determined.

Mother's lips arched up.

Amai just sighed and shook her head, amused.