Chapter Text
At a writing desk beside the bedroom window sat a young man, his chin resting on a pale hand as he cast a hollow gaze toward the gloomy cityscape of London.
The room behind him offered no comfort. It was a space defined by a suffocating clinical order.
There were no personal trinkets, no chaotic piles of books and no warmth to suggest it was a place of rest.
Instead the walls were lined with heavy dark oak cabinets that seemed to close in on him, housing only the grim essentials of his family’s trade.
The air itself felt stagnant smelling faintly of stale ink and the metallic scent of polished steel - a constant reminder of the empire he was failing to uphold.
Even the fireplace remained cold, it filled only with grey ash as if the family saw no reason to waste heat on a son who spent his hours in idle thought.
In this silent chamber, Zanka was less a resident and more a ghost haunting a room that had been meticulously designed to remind him of everything he was not.
Zanka Nijiku was the youngest son of the Nijiku family, a foreign household that had established a thriving security business.
Through the sheer capability of the family head and a perfectly timed entry into a Victorian era where safety had become a luxury,
the family had amassed such wealth that they rose to the status of nouveau rich within a single generation.
Knock Knock
The heavy wooden door swung open without a moment of hesitation, ignoring any need for permission.
Kyouka Nijiku, the current head of the family and his beloved elder sister stood there.
Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she saw her younger brother sitting in a daze seemingly indifferent to the crucial appointment she had spent the entire month reminding him of.
Her eyes flicked toward the wooden stick resting on Zanka’s knees. It appeared he was polishing it to a shine.
It was a mere stick that he insisted to call a staff even named it “Assisstaff”
Her brother treats it like a priceless weapon, though in her eyes its condition was as far from that description as it could possibly be.
“What are you doing? Why aren’t you ready yet? We have an essential arrangement today”
Her voice dropped low signaling that her patience was nearing its limit.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten”
“No, sister” Zanka replied hurriedly, stammering
“Of course not”
It was the truth. He hadn't forgotten. How could he?
An arranged meeting with the son of a famous old money noble family.
An appointment his siblings had emphasized heavily, stating his sole and vital duty was to impress his fiancé - the heir to the Baron title.
Zanka, who had never even seen the man’s face had to make him agree to the marriage.
This union meant their family would finally gain a foothold in London’s high society.
“This marriage is mutually beneficial in the extreme” his siblings would repeat whenever Zanka gathered the courage to protest.
Neither of them ever failed to remind him of the reality – since he lacked Kyouka’s sharp business acumen and Koga’s raw strength for training personnel.
The only thing left for him to do as a member of the Nijiku family was to finally rid them of the stinging insults whispered throughout Mayfair
that they were merely new money with no noble lineage or pedigree.
“Good then. Prepare yourself. We depart in fifteen minutes”
“Yes, sister”
Kyouka seemed satisfied with his prompt answer and left.
Once Zanka was certain her presence had faded, he let out a heavy weary sigh.
“Let’s go, Lovely Assistaff” he whispered softly to his trusted staff as if it were the only companion who would listen.
“Off to the executioner’s block we go”
While daily life with Kyouka and Koga was always stifling.
Zanka never imagined that a carriage ride with both siblings could create such a monumental sense of unease.
It wasn’t that they hurled insults, that wasn't their way.
Rather it was the absolute hollow silence - the total lack of words directed at him - that cut the deepest.
The only sound was the occasional disdainful huff from Koga as he glanced at Zanka’s staff.
Though meeting a fiancé felt like a death sentence, Zanka was almost relieved when they finally reached their destination.
The Tunito Manor sat on the far side of town, just beyond the city limits.
It was built in the tradition of noble retreats - secluded from the filth and overcrowding of London yet close enough for the urgent demands of government affairs.
As the carriage approached, the manor rose from the mist like a slumbering grey giant.
Its Gothic spires pierced the leaden sky and the sprawling stone facade was etched with intricate carvings of mythical beasts - now worn smooth by decades of rain and neglect.
Once these walls likely glowed with the warmth of gold leaf and polished marble.
But now they were veiled in thick suffocating ivy that seemed to be slowly reclaiming the estate for the earth.
The vast gardens, which must have once been a triumph of Victorian symmetry had surrendered to chaos.
Overgrown hedges clawed at the path and headless marble statues stood as silent, tragic sentinels over dry fountains choked with dead leaves.
It was an architecture of ghost-like magnificence - a place that clung desperately to its dignity while its foundations whispered of debt and decay.
It was a monument to a name that still held power in ink but was slowly bleeding dry in reality.
“Miss and Master Nijiku!” butler of Tunito family announced their arrival with a booming voice, allowing the hosts to feign a composure they didn't truly feel.
This was the arrival of the “Deal” the one that would bring fortune to a noble family who possessed only their lineage, saving them from the brink of bankruptcy.
The Nijiku family knew this well. But to his siblings, since Zanka was considered the family's great disappointment this marriage was a more than worthy trade.
The grand hall of the Tunito manor was undeniably magnificent yet the oppressive gloom of the weather seemed to swallow the beauty of its architecture.
All that remained was a pervasive chill, mirrored in the judgmental eyes of Lord and Lady Tunito.
The only thing that managed to draw a smile from Zanka was a piano, his all time favorite music instrument, tucked away in a corner of the room.
As his siblings walked ahead to exchange pleasantries with the hosts, Zanka hesitated, lingering in the shadows before sinking onto the piano bench.
He could not resist running his fingers over the ivory keys as if the instrument itself were calling out for him to wake it.
“You play beautifully”
The voice was deep and low, devoid of even a hint of displeasure.
Nonetheless it was enough to make Zanka jump in fright.
He recoiled from the piano, stammering out an apology.
“Forgive me... I - I didn’t mean to -”
The words died down in his throat. As he looked up, he met the eyes of the speaker. His breath hitched.
Standing before him was a tall, slender young man about his own age dressed in a suit of fine velvet.
Looking every bit the nobleman yet without the jagged edge of arrogance.
Slightly wavy black hair framed a face adorned with a smile - the gentlest smile Zanka had ever seen.|
And oh those eyes.
Those amber golden brown eyes that crinkled into crescents as he smiled.
A long slender finger reached up to scratch the side of his ear gently as if signaling his own shyness.
Zanka realized he was standing there like a fool, paralyzed, until the other man finally broke the silence.
“I’m Follo” he said, his smile widening further.
“Follo Tunito And you, I presume, must be my fiancé”