LM0069 The Rock Star Plan

The air was thick with tension as Rina Ookaze, now a hollow shadow of her former self, shuffled slowly toward the waiting limousine. Rei, once full of life, was now reduced to a catatonic state, leaning heavily on the remaining girl from their five-man group. The girl's expression was set, unreadable, as though she had built a fortress around herself. Iori's sharp gaze never left them, his stern supervision casting an invisible weight over the scene. The car's door was open, but the silence hung like a warning, thick and foreboding.

Rei and the girl moved first, their steps quick, almost mechanical. But Rina—Rina lingered. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if something inside her still hesitated to leave. She paused, her face gaunt and worn. The regal Salutary who had arrived with such grace and confidence was now a mere shell of herself. Bloodshot eyes, dull with regret, bore into the ground. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of years of secrets and choices made. The sorrow that had festered inside her could no longer be hidden, and the cost of her loyalty and betrayal had finally caught up with her.

She turned her gaze on Iori, and for a fleeting moment, an unspoken challenge passed between them. Despite the visible signs of her suffering, there was fire in her eyes, a defiance that hadn't completely died. It was a look that made Iori's lips curl with disbelief. She seemed to think she had been wronged—they had crossed a line, and not her. It was laughable. He had seen that look in the eyes of countless enemies—those who believed their past mistakes could be erased in the face of a moment of vulnerability.

"Elder," Iori's voice cut through the tense air, cold and unwavering. "Why do you look aggrieved?"

Rina sneered, the bitter expression curling her lips. The sneer wasn't just for him; it was for the fate she had brought upon herself, for the powerlessness that had dragged her here.

"Delta," she spat, her voice thick with disdain. "Remember, I saved your daughter's life."

Iori's eyes narrowed, something colder flashing behind them. His words were controlled, but they carried a bite that matched the icy tone in his voice.

"And that's why you get to keep yours." He stepped closer, his words heavier with each syllable. "Remember, you are not the victim here. You were the ones who plotted against our Alpha, of all people. Be thankful that you and the rest of your pack get to keep your heads."

The words lingered in the air, final and unforgiving. Rina's sneer faltered, but her defiance didn't fully waver. She had no words to counter that. Iori wasn't a fool to be manipulated with arrogance. He had seen the game they had played, and they had lost.

Rina turned, stepping into the limousine, but not without one last glance over her shoulder. Her bloodshot eyes met Iori's, and in that instant, all the defiance drained from her expression. What replaced it was quiet, haunting resignation. She knew. The power she once wielded had slipped through her fingers, and now, she was left with nothing but the aftermath of her choices.

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound a final, hollow echo in the still night air. The limousine pulled away, taking with it the last remnants of a once-proud clan that had overreached. Iori stood there, watching the car disappear into the distance, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

He returned to his office immediately, his mind already racing. He would be deluding himself if he thought the Wind Pack would accept this defeat quietly. Even though they couldn't directly challenge the Shadow Wolf Pack—at least not without risking exposure—there were other, subtler ways they could retaliate. They could send proxies, manipulate other clans, or stir up trouble in the shadows.

If Hizuki had been here, Iori wouldn't have worried. The Alpha's calm and diplomatic nature would have handled the situation with ease, as always.

But if it were Kagerou…

Iori's eyes darkened as the thought weighed heavily on him. The progenitor had a history that was far from peaceful. He had once been a war god, a terrifying force on the battlefield during his time with the first Lycan King. Though Kagerou had seemed to mellow since his reawakening with Hizuki, Iori knew better than to assume he could predict his behavior now, especially with Hizuki in a coma. No one knew how Kagerou would react to provocation.

Iori's mind flashed back to the past—vivid memories of the books that told about the raw, untamed fury Kagerou had unleashed in past conflicts. He shuddered at the thought. If Kagerou was pushed too far, there was no telling what kind of chaos he could cause. He could barely communicate with the ancestor in a way that kept him calm; how could he make him stay away from conflict when the situation demanded such restraint?

That night, Iori called his great-grandson to his office. Jushin arrived an hour and a half later—unusually late. Normally, when within the domain, Jushin would have been at his door in minutes. Iori's anxiety grew. This delay could only mean one thing: something was wrong with Kagerou.

"Grandpa, I'm here," Jushin called as he stepped inside the room, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. He hesitated for a moment, patting the invisible dust from his clothes as if to rid himself of the lingering fatigue from the long journey. The faint smell of the helicopter's engine and the stale air of countless hours on the road clung to him. Iori stood up immediately, his sharp eyes scanning Jushin, taking in every detail, every little sign that something was off.

"You got delayed. Did something happen?" Iori's voice was steady, but the edge of concern in his tone was unmistakable. Jushin sighed, rubbing his temples as though the weight of his travels had settled deep within.

"I just came back from Nagoya and Hokkaido," he said flatly, the words escaping his lips with an effort that only hinted at how worn out he really felt.

Iori's brows lifted in surprise. "Nagoya. Hokkaido?" He repeated, his voice filled with disbelief as his eyes narrowed slightly. "In one day?"

Jushin shrugged nonchalantly, though his exhaustion was evident in the sag of his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it further. "The ancestor let me have the helicopter," he explained, as if that somehow explained the impossible.

Iori's gaze sharpened with suspicion. "What did the ancestor ask you to do?" His tone shifted, and Jushin could tell he was bracing himself for something bizarre.

Jushin smiled sheepishly, clearly reluctant to share the full story. "Get him good-looking guys who can sing and play instruments," he said, almost cringing at the absurdity of it. "I didn't know many people, but I remembered some schoolmates. So, I went to Nagoya to the Red Paw Tribe, then the Ice Wolf Tribe in Hokkaido to pick them up."

Iori blinked, confusion flashing across his face. "Pick them up? What for?"

Jushin sighed, running a hand over his face. He smiled awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. "The ancestor wants to be a rockstar," he said, his voice barely above a murmur.

Iori froze, his mind seemingly stalling for a moment as he processed the words. "A rockstar?"

"Yep. A rockstar…" Jushin nodded, feeling the weight of his own words. He could barely believe it himself. The whole thing was absurd, yet he had already done it—traveled across two major regions, met with a handful of former schoolmates, and now had a small group of musicians on standby.

"I see," Iori said slowly, sitting back at his desk, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge as he arranged his thoughts. He was quiet for a long moment, considering the situation, his eyes distant.

Jushin, unable to bear the silence any longer, stared at him with wide eyes. "Grandpa, aren't you going to say anything?"

Iori's gaze shifted, almost absentmindedly, before he looked at Jushin. A smile crept up his face, though it was more of a wry grin than an amused one. He picked up the phone with a calm precision, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "Ah, yeah. I'll set up a recording company right away."

"HA?" Jushin exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "You approve?"

Iori's expression shifted fully, now reflecting a genuine enthusiasm that Jushin hadn't expected. He began dialing his contacts, his fingers moving with a purpose. "Well, if the ancestor wants to be a rockstar, then he will be a rockstar," Iori said, a gleam in his eye. "At least if he's busy with this, he won't be waging war, right?"

Jushin stared at him, still shocked, but a spark of realization slowly started to form in his mind. The situation, bizarre as it was, made a strange kind of sense. He couldn't help but smile, feeling a sudden shift in the tension that had built up throughout the day. "...Now that makes sense."