THE REAL PROTEGE

The courtyard dimmed as the final notes of zither and drum faded like a sigh carried off by the wind.

All stood still.

In the center, Chin Chin and Kim Kim, their cheeks aglow with excitement, looked up at their parents with matching grins.

Kim Kim cupped her hands formally, face beaming.

"Papa, Mama," she said, voice trembling with joy. "We have a surprise."

Between their small palms, they held a single lantern—delicately crafted in the shape of a phoenix coiled with a dragon, its silk-sheathed ribs shimmering with golden filigree.

Inside, a tiny flame danced quietly, casting firelight across their rosy faces.

"Can we let it fly now?" Chi Chin excitedly asked.

Ling Li's expression broke into a radiant smile. "Yes," she said softly. "Now is perfect."

"Papa," Kim Kim whispered, eyes wide, "is it time?"

Chu Yan looked at Ling Li.

She gave a single, elegant nod.

Together, the girls raised the lantern, their tiny fingers releasing it to the breeze. It wobbled for a moment, then rose.

Slowly. Gracefully.

It caught the current and lifted toward the heavens.

Silence followed it.

Even the politicians stopped muttering in the shadows. Even the entertainers paused their laughter. Everyone — everyone — everyone-watched the lantern float upward like a blessing escaping the bounds of earth.

It glowed like a small sun as it rose past the moon gate, above the marble colonnades and over the upper stories of the estate.

And they watched.

Ling Li, hands gently wrapped around Chu Yan's, tilted her face to the sky. Her expression was unreadable — not joy, not grief, but the solemn reflection of a woman who had outlived storms… and still dared to dream.

Chu Yan, eyes damp, lips parted, whispered something only the wind could hear:

"Thank you for waiting."

Pharsa stood behind them, hand at her chest, her features more relaxed than they'd been in years. Her usual mask of poise broke for just a heartbeat. In her eyes: pride and perhaps relief.

Shi Min, arms crossed but eyes moist, gave a single approving nod, as if etching this image into a corner of his memory reserved for miracles.

Ren and Lily, with arms around each other, leaned their heads together, smiling with the delicate vulnerability of daughters watching hope reborn.

El Padre muttered something poetic in ancient script, pretending to wipe the sweat off his brow when it was clearly a tear. El Capitan coughed beside him — loudly and with suspicion — before whispering, "Shut up, it's dust in the air."

The lantern ascended higher, a single light among stars.

And then—

The air shifted.

The temperature dropped a bit.

A low hum began—not mechanical. Not human. Something older.

The wind reversed direction.

Lanterns flickered.

From the highest balcony, a faint metallic chime rang once.

Then—

All heads turned.

And through the haze of mist that should not have been there, stepped Otako Sentoki.

Clad in layered samurai silks, the color of thunderclouds and bone, his presence seemed to part reality itself. His face, half-obscured behind a porcelain oni mask carved with gold veins, gave no expression—yet every step he took echoed like prophecy.

Behind him, seven armored samurai moved in precise formation. Their armor was lacquered obsidian, etched with ash-gray runes. No weapons were drawn — but no one doubted they could kill in a blink if provoked.

The crowd rippled in hushed reverence and unease.

Some guests moved back instinctively.

Foreign dignitaries tensed, glancing at their guards.

The Chinese President nearly dropped his teacup.

Whispers flared.

"That's him…"

"The Specter General…"

"Is he here to challenge the groom?"

But no.

Otako stopped at the base of the moon gate.

He lifted a single hand.

Silence.

The samurai stopped behind him in perfect unison.

Then, Otako spoke — his voice low, rhythmic, and deeper than memory.

"Let it be known—on this day, in this place—Ling Li, born of House Li, Guardian of the Southern Clans, Shadow-Phoenix of the Eastern Border… is under my protection."

Gasps broke out from the edges.

"She and all members of her family are not to be threatened," he continued, "summoned, disrespected, manipulated, or used in game or war. She is hers. But should anyone reach for her, they will find my blade in their chest before they draw breath."

His gaze turned to Chu Yan.

A long pause.

And then… he flicked his hand.

A force suddenly pushed back Four Eyes, and he realized his vitality and strength had come back, better than before.

Almost imperceptibly, Otako inclined his head.

Chu Yan returned the gesture deeply.

Acknowledgment. Warrior to warrior.

Otako stepped back. The seven samurai followed. As swiftly as they had arrived, they vanished in a curtain of falling petals that had not been there moments before.

The courtyard remained stunned.

Then—

Kim Kim turned to Chin Chin and whispered loudly, "That person is so cool."

"Uh, I think he is too scary," Chin Chin replied.

Kim Kim looked at her twin sister only to realize Chin Chin is gripping onto her gown.

"...."

'She seems to be really scared.' Kim Kim thought.

The guests laughed, breath returned, and the music resumed.

But everyone-every-every every single person — knew now…

Ling Li was no longer just a wife.

She was untouchable.

"Are you alright?" Ling Ling asked Four Eyes.

Four Eyes replied, "Um, he gave me back my strength, even more."

Ling Li shook her head, smiling, "So that brat had a conscience and gave you a gift," She said, knowing it was Butler Oda under Otako's mask.

The evening had taken on a gentler rhythm now. The tide of power and ceremony ebbed into quieter laughter, softer conversations, and the occasional clink of glasses. The lanterns overhead glowed warmly like a constellation stitched for celebration, their reflections dancing across the polished marble floor of the Phoenix Courtyard.

Ling Li and Chu Yan stood arm in arm near the moon gate, the red silk cord that once bound their wrists now tucked respectfully into the folds of their sleeves, as a symbol rather than tether. Their presence radiated newly forged unity — steel softened by grace.

Guests had begun offering their final farewells, one after another, still murmuring about Otako Sentoki's arrival like it had cracked open history. They bowed, toasted, embraced, and slipped away into sleek cars waiting like starships beyond the gate.

Then, walking with stately poise and years of authority, Old Master Li and Madame Li approached.