Chương 22: The Conqueror's Past & The Curtain's Reopening

The gentle hum of conversations rose as the lights brightened, the weight of sorrow giving way to a quiet warmth. On the third floor, Kazue leaned into the stranger's comfort, her face streaked with dried tears as her heart finally began to lighten. Across the hall, Sho's children happily took bites of sliced duck from their father's chopsticks, their innocent minds unable to grasp the sadness that had filled the room. Galan relaxed in his seat, absorbing the atmosphere.

"What a great way to start off spring," he said, turning to Masahiko.

"What do you think? You okay?" Masahiko blinked, as if waking from a dream.

"Ah, yes, Lord Oda. I am fine."

"The war's that bad, huh?" Galan asked, his voice carrying the lead-heavy weight of a man who had traded countless lives for victories.

"It was half of the able-bodied men in both provinces," Masahiko said, his voice low.

"The ones who worked the fields, defended the borders, and kept the order... gone. The rest couldn't hold the cities together on their own." He shook his head, a weary sigh escaping him.

"People from neighboring provinces had to step in to reclaim the dead and keep everything from collapsing. In the end… lives were lost, money was wasted, and countless died over a religious disagreement. It was the worst war that has happened recently over something so trivial." Galan leaned back, absorbing the weight of the confession.

"And this happened right before the onryoo's killings became more numerous?" Masahiko thought for a moment.

"Although I do not know the specifics… I would not be surprised if that is indeed true, Lord Oda."

"How much do you know of this case?" Galan pressed.

"Only what the daimyoo shared with us," Masahiko admitted, looking ahead at the stage.

"It's quite extensive in detailing the number and methods of those deaths… but most of them don't contain any information regarding his team's own investigation into the ghosts." Galan's tone sharpened.

"So there are vengeful ghosts killing people across Tsushima, but those in charge aren't willing to share information with anyone?"

"It's sad, isn't it?" Masahiko chuckled bitterly.

"Imagine how much our investigation would've progressed if everyone worked together… but it seems preventing mass unrest is more important than ensuring the case becomes solved in a timely manner." Galan frowned at the table.

"Then I guess only the local daimyoo would know the whole timeline."

"I do hope so, Lord Oda," Masahiko replied.

"If he does not know, then you will have to find a way to ask the daimyoo within the mainland."

"I see…" Galan stared at the suspended and floor-level guests, his mindcast drifting aimlessly over the now-calm murmurs within the theater. He mentally cataloged the names and provinces related to the Izumo-Yamato war, weighing the variables of a geopolitical landscape he hadn't yet fully mapped. Just fragments of rumors from the victims of war, he thought. I need info from those that signed young men to their deaths. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He shifted his attention to the higher floors, also finding a lack of knowledge from the merchants, officials, doctors, and all the other important figures. Despite their status, they don't seem to know much about the case or the war. He sighed, recalling the same broken lines of information that the Council faced, which prevented them from continuing the investigation.

But still, if those daimyoo are smart enough to keep the knowledge and those who know of it within heavy lock-boxes and lock-rooms, then I'm surprised this case has been going on for so long. He shook his head. If that's how it is, then there's no point in moping about it. After he stored away his emotions, the distinct aroma of soy-braised duck and grilled sea bream approached him.

"Excuse me, dear guests. I have brought your food."

"Alright! Let's eat!" Galan shouted. He is cheerful already… Masahiko noted. Is this how the mind of a god operates? But Galan ignored the old man's thoughts and wasted no time, spearing a slice of duck and savoring the rich, tender meat. Masahiko, more measured, took a slow sip of his hot rice wine before peeling apart a piece of crisped fish. But as they ate, curiosity kept gnawing at Masahiko.

"Lord Oda, if you don't mind me asking," he began, "have you ever faced such loss in a war?"

"No, not really," Galan said with a mouthful of rice.

"But not because I never went to war. It's because I'm such a good leader that the army I directly commanded never lost a single battle." Masahiko paused his chewing, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

"Oh. And what happened to those whose land you conquered?"

"They get to live a good life," Galan said with a shrug.

"I gave them citizenship and a full pardon. Unless, of course, they committed something heinous during the war." Some of Masahiko's unease faded, replaced by a subdued reverence.

"That's remarkable, Lord Oda. The shogun could certainly use someone as compassionate as yourself. If you were a daimyoo, I imagine your domain would be a place of prosperity." He explained.

"Oh, come on. I'm not that innocent," Galan scoffed.

"I still had to slaughter thousands to protect my homeland."

"But, still. You showed the kind of restraint that few in power possess."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Galan said, taking another bite.

"It's honestly scary how that sentence keeps following me around." Masahiko let out a small laugh.

"Then I suppose it's true. I'm not the only one who can see the good in you."

"Yeah, guess I'll take your word for it." They lapsed into a comfortable rhythm, the soft clicks of chopsticks and occasional slurps filling the silence until the announcer's voice cut through the air once more, her Godlang clear and resonant.

"Honored guests, pardon the interruption. We are about to begin the next song. Soon, the enchanting voice of the Princess of Crows shall carry us into the highlands with Winds of the Eternal Peak. May her song bring even greater enjoyment to your meal." The hum of conversation faded as the hall's lights dimmed to a twilight glow. As the grand curtain swept open, a collective gasp rippled through the audience. The cherry tree was gone, replaced by an imposing mountain monument.

Stylized marble peaks stands on the stage, bathed in a golden light. On the left peak, a hooded crow ten-gu sat in quiet contemplation, its black-glazed beak and wings gleaming. On the right, a massive, red-skinned daiten-gu stood as a wandering warrior, a long ironwood staff in hand. Behind them, a gigantic folding screen spanned the entire stage, painted with a breathtaking sunlit landscape. A large red sun dominated a cloudless sky, casting its warmth over endless mountain ranges.

Below, a river wound through golden fields of wheat and rice, past a bustling port city teeming with life. The audience murmured in soft, appreciative tones, pointing at the intricate details of the scene.

"Wow," Galan whispered to himself.

"They actually bothered cycling it."

"Did you say something, Lord Oda?" Masahiko asked, turning.

"Oh, nothing. Just impressed that they changed the background decoration so quickly."

"It is quite impressive," Masahiko agreed, his eyes fixed on the monument.

"To do it in just ten minutes..." Galan grinned.

"Do you want to know how they really do it?"

"Of course." Galan took out a single gold kogan.

"Alright, pay attention." He repeated the trick that he did with the fishermen. Masahiko's eyes widened.

"Whoa... truly impressive. So the stage set is just a grander version of your trick."

"Mm-hm," Galan confirmed.

"You can do it yourself if you're willing to part with a kidney's worth of kogan." Masahiko chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, thank you. My life is wonderful enough without it."

"Hah, fair enough."