The sword dims.

  The crimson veins along the blade settle into a slow, steady pulse. Father leans casually against the glass wall as if gravity is optional.

  Johnny finally gives Akari his full attention.

  She scrolls once. "Agenda updates. The Sea Games will be hosted off the western coast of India. Neutral waters. High magical density tolerance."

  Johnny nods. "Categories?"

  "Dragon-class swimming. Leviathan endurance. Deity synchronised manifestation. Yokai diving. Open division."

  Father straightens slightly. "Open division?"

  "Unregulated entry. Tier cap enforced at three."

  Johnny exhales faintly. "So the dragons will ignore the cap."

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  Akari continues. "Blackmore Maritime will stabilise the arena. Blackmore Media holds supernatural broadcast rights and human narrative control. Blackmore Finance oversees betting infrastructure."

  Father smiles. "Ah. We're the casino."

  "We are the house," Akari corrects.

  Johnny nods once. "The house wins."

  She scrolls again. "Additional note. The Minamoto heir's fox incident has stabilised."

  Johnny's gaze sharpens slightly. "The split?"

  "Confirmed. The entity is divided into two manifestations. One retreated toward northern Korean territory. The other toward the southern territory. The nature of the division remains unclear. Both are currently operating at approximately half strength."

  Father whistles softly. "That girl is improving."

  Johnny says nothing.

  "The Yata no Kagami fragment resonance remains unstable," Akari adds.

  "Expected."

  Silence lingers briefly.

  Then Akari continues, tone unchanged. "There is one more matter. Your mother has entered European airspace, heading toward the United States."

  The sword pulses once.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Father's expression freezes mid amusement.

  Johnny does not turn. "When?"

  "Eight hours ago."

  A small pause.

  "She requested tea upon arrival."

  That lands heavier than the percentage on the geological screen.

  Johnny closes his eyes briefly. "What kind."

  "Black."

  Silence.

  Father smiles slowly. "…Fun."

  Father crosses his arms. "You're still running?"

  Johnny looks at him calmly. "You ran because you didn't want to be a father."

  "That's different."

  "It isn't."

  "I panicked."

  "You left."

  "I was young."

  "You were over two hundred."

  "That's not the point."

  "You didn't want responsibility."

  Father exhales slowly. "…Irrelevant."

  Johnny adjusts his cuff. "I ran because I didn't want to be owned."

  Father studies him. "That's worse."

  "Maybe."

  A quiet moment passes.

  "You know she doesn't hate you," Father says.

  "I know."

  "She visits because she wants to."

  "I know."

  "You could just stay."

  "No."

  Father sighs. "Still dramatic."

  "Still projecting."

  "So what now?"

  "India."

  "You're avoiding her."

  "The Sea Games require oversight."

  "You're running."

  Johnny meets his eyes. "If I have to meet her, you will be there."

  Father straightens immediately. "India is culturally enriching this time of year. Warm climate. Exciting atmosphere. What's not to like?"

  Johnny walks toward the door.

  "Jet."

  The sword flickers once, amused.

  Six hours later, the headquarters doors open without resistance.

  She enters without announcement.

  She looks twenty-one.

  White hair like polished silver. Ice blue eyes. Porcelain skin untouched by time. Perfect posture. No visible magic. None needed.

  Akari is waiting.

  They regard one another calmly.

  "Ran again?" she asks.

  "Yes."

  "India?"

  "Yes."

  "He does prefer dramatic exits."

  "Yes."

  She glances around the empty office. "Still spends millions on gacha games and gambling?"

  "Yes."

  "Of course he does."

  A faint pause.

  "Still running?"

  "Yes."

  "And still unaware how popular he is?"

  "Yes."

  A small smile touches her lips. "Impressive. Three hundred years and no improvement."

  Akari remains composed.

  "Still thinks he owes money to that fairy?"

  "Yes."

  "Adorable."

  Another pause.

  "Still oblivious?"

  "Yes."

  She exhales softly. "Hopeless."

  Her gaze drifts toward the skyline.

  "He runs well."

  "Yes."

  "And you?"

  "I stay."

  A small nod. "Good."

  Year 1700.

  Snow shattered beneath his boots as Johnny ran.

  He did not argue. He did not ask permission. He broke through a reinforced window of Haus Schwarzmark and hit the ground already moving.

  The estate behind him stood pristine and symmetrical against the winter sky—white stone. Frosted glass. Identical blue eyes watching from balconies.

  They did not chase.

  They observed.

  Johnny had always been the only male in Haus Schwarzmark and was not treasured, not protected.

  Refined.

  Measured.

  Maintained.

  So he ran.

  Not from fear.

  From suffocation.

  Hours later, when the estate was gone from sight, he slowed.

  The air felt wrong.

  Too smooth. Too even.

  Illusion.

  He stepped forward anyway.

  The forest shimmered. Snow dissolved into steam. Pine trees bent into stone pillars. A hot spring clearing replaced winter.

  And in the centre stood a man mid-transformation.

  Hair lengthening. Frame narrowing. Robes reshaping with lazy precision.

  Johnny stopped.

  The man paused.

  "What?"

  "You just changed."

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Access."

  The transformation is completed. A woman stood there now. Same eyes. Same smirk.

  Johnny stared at her. "Pervert."

  Merlin blinked once. "Excuse me?"

  "You changed just to spy."

  "Access," she corrected calmly.

  "You're still a pervert."

  Merlin studied him for a moment.

  Then she smiled.

  "Oh."

  She stepped forward and pushed him square in the chest.

  Johnny stumbled backwards through steam and dropped straight into the bath.

  Water exploded upward.

  Several women screamed.

  "PERVERT!"

  A wooden bucket struck him before he could surface.

  "I didn't—" he tried.

  Another impact. A towel this time.

  Merlin stood at the edge of the steam, observing calmly.

  Johnny surfaced again, soaked and furious. "I hate you."

  Merlin's expression barely shifted.

  "I think we will get along just fine."