So this was the truth.
They had joined hands.
Used her. Traded her. Discarded her.
And in the end—
they had priced it all at one million.
Reina's fingers tightened around the cheque.
One million.
So this… was all she was worth.
"Take it."
Toshiba pressed the cheque into her hand.
"Yes," Liya added with a faint sneer. "One million is more than enough for someone like you."
Reina lowered her gaze.
Then—
she smiled.
Softly.
"Good," she said. "Very good."
Her eyes lifted, steady now.
"Tell me… do you believe in retribution?"
Liya's expression flickered.
"You—"
"I do," Reina said quietly.
Her voice was not loud.
But the air around them seemed to tighten.
"A person who climbs on filth… never stays above forever."
Her fingers moved.
Slow.
Deliberate.
She tore the cheque into thin strips.
"I'll be watching," she said. "When everything you've taken… is taken from you."
The last fragment fell.
Reina stepped forward.
And let the pieces scatter across Toshiba's chest.
"Get out."
Calm.
Absolute.
"You don't belong here."
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Liya's face twisted.
"Reina, don't push your luck," she snapped. "If you anger us, your aunt might not wake up at all."
—Pang.
The sound cracked through the hall.
Liya's head snapped to the side.
Before she could recover—
—Pang.
The second slap landed cleanly.
Silence.
She staggered, clutching her face.
"You hit me?" she gasped. "Toshiba—she—"
"I said," Reina interrupted, her voice cold now, "get out."
Her eyes lifted.
Sharp.
Unrecognizable.
For a brief second—
Toshiba froze.
Because that gaze—
was familiar.
It reminded him of the portrait behind her.
Cold. Absolute. Unyielding.
"…Let's go," he said at last.
And for the first time—
he stepped back.
Liya hesitated, burning with humiliation.
But eventually—
she followed.
Their footsteps faded.
The hall returned to silence.
Reina remained standing.
Until—
her strength gave out.
Her knees struck the floor.
Hard.
"Grandmother…"
Her voice broke.
"They bullied me…"
Tears fell without restraint.
There was no one left to stand in front of her.
No one left to protect her.
For the first time—
she was truly alone.
"…Am I late?"
A voice cut through the silence.
Low.
Unfamiliar.
Reina froze.
She looked up.
A tall figure stood at the entrance.
The light behind him swallowed his face, leaving only a silhouette.
Straight posture. Controlled presence.
Like something that didn't belong in grief—
but belonged in authority.
Reina wiped her tears quickly and forced herself up.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice steadier now. "Are you here for the funeral?"
"Old Madam Yukisan?" the man asked.
"Yes."
"Then I'm not mistaken."
He stepped inside.
Unhurried.
Every movement precise.
He removed his shoes, walked forward, and stopped before the altar.
Without a word, he lit incense.
And bowed.
The flame flickered—
briefly revealing his face.
Calm.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Reina watched him in silence.
Something about him—
didn't feel like condolence.
It felt like arrival.
Not comfort.
Not coincidence.
Intent.