Yukinari didn't smile or avert his gaze.

"Yes," he said quietly. "At one point, I imagined that we could build this country together, ruling hand in hand. But now I think your ambitions probably don't stop at being a military leader — forgive me. In any case, you'll hardly be satisfied with that position in my country: Ryukoku has long been a peaceful nation, and they view the warrior class quite differently here than in your country... We've discussed this before. In Cheongju, military ranks are held in higher esteem than civilian positions, and the one who commands the army is nearly an emperor. We, on the other hand, inherited the foolish northern tradition of looking down on soldiers. You probably want more..."

By now, Gerel had managed to banish his intrusive thoughts and almost regain his composure. He said:

"No, I'm not that power-hungry. I don't delude myself into thinking your people, obsessed with aristocratic lineage and divine selection, would ever recognize me as their king. And I won't lie — I would serve you, I admire you, as probably everyone who sees you does. But if you knew my origins, you'd understand why your people would never accept me. Not as a military leader, or in any other capacity. I..."

He stopped, realizing he had said too much already, and quickly shifted topics.

"I, too, thought about the world you just described. You deserve some honesty, so I'll admit it — I've thought about it countless times since I was a boy. I'm older than you, so I've had more time to reflect. And I've come to realize that it's impossible. Such a world can only exist in imagination. You want our peoples to mix, to share the best of each other, but that won't happen. You dream of a land ruled by reason and freedom, but people don't strive for freedom, knowledge, beauty, or law, and they certainly don't rush to rid themselves of their prejudices. The people of our lands will always hate each other. You won't be able to dress the people of Cheongju in brocade and teach them to admire blooming cherry trees; you won't get the Southerners to abandon their horses and bows, forget their foolish superstitions, and lead civilized lives; you won't stop Northerners from looking down on other nations; you won't instill respect for women in the men of Ryukoku, nor independence in its women. How do you plan to make people happy?"

"By force," Yukinari said quickly. He was clearly prepared for such a question. "At first, by force. It's unpleasant to admit, but you're right — people don't like to change. But they're not inherently bad — they just need a little push. In time, they'll understand and realize the necessity of such a state."

"Very well," Gerel said, not particularly surprised by this answer, "let's assume that's how it will be. You'd make a great ruler. Perhaps even a genius. You're a dreamer, but you can think practically when needed; you're sincere in your desire to make the world better, which is rare in itself; usually, what interests people is how to seize power, but they couldn't care less about how to wield it," he couldn't help but throw a jab at Tokhung. "Still, this world of yours is impossible. If you trace the history of our states, you'll see that it always repeats itself. A talented ruler, like you, rises up, raises a nation from ruins, establishes a new dynasty, wins victories, forms alliances... But after the rise, decline is inevitable — the empire collapses, sinking back into chaos. What you dream of would take not decades, but centuries — and for all that time, power would need to remain in the hands of a single ruler, which, as you know, is impossible. Or perhaps some miraculous forces are needed, but I don't believe in them."

"What if such forces exist?"

"Ah, yes — you're the the Dragon of the East, after all," Gerel remarked coldly.

"And you, then, don't consider yourself the Chosen of the White Tiger?

"I don't think that highly of myself."

"Well, I for one am inclined to believe it."

"You're not serious, are you? Tigers, Dragons, their chosen ones... You're educated and intelligent — I can't believe you, like some peasant, believe in the Four Gods."

"Gods, ultimately, don't care whether we believe in them or not. Faith isn't for the gods, it's for us. And I don't think believing in something is foolish," Yukinari said calmly. "It's a pity that you don't believe in anything, to believe in nothing — that's a hard life..."

"I find it hard to believe in what I haven't seen. Still, I do envy those who believe: I too would like to have explanations for every circumstance in life, and always be certain of my own righteousness," Gerel said this sincerely, without mockery — it was hard for him to remain ironically aloof with Yukinari.

Yukinari shook his head.

"It's not about righteousness... But I think we'll talk more about this later. Still, it's amusing..." he smiled, "...how your fierce rejection of everything wonderful contrasts with the rumors that surround you."

"Really? Do they even scare children with my name in Ryukoku?" Gerel wondered.

"They do," Yukinari confirmed. "And it's not surprising — with your strange appearance. They say you have supernatural powers, and that your mother was a witch..."

"Of course. And my father was a water spirit," Gerel smiled, a little awkwardly, already knowing what Yukinari would say next.

And Yukinari said exactly what he was supposed to — a little off-topic at first glance:

"I've always loved stories about the Strangers, yaoguai... They say they have strange faces, nothing like ours, and many of them have light hair. They say they can perform magic, don't age, and never die..."

There it was. He was to Yukinari the same kind of magical talisman he was to Tokhung. Somehow, this thought left a bitter taste in Gerel's mouth. Though he knew why: despite his resistance, he had succumbed to Yukinari's charm, and at some point, he had wanted to believe that Yukinari, too, saw in him... well, at least a worthy opponent in the game of Mist and Clouds.

"I'm not a demon, and I'm not a sorcerer. Sorry to disappoint you. It would be nice to be immortal, but I'm afraid that's not the case," Gerel said dryly.

"I figured that out," Yukinari responded serenely. "I think I've learned a lot about you... I never believed the rumors about you. Not for a second did I think you'd be a living nightmare — and as expected, I met a regular man, tired and sad..." He paused for a second, as if he'd said something wrong, or perhaps recalling something. "But the moment we met — there, in the throne room, — when I first saw your face... It was the strangest and most wondrous thing I've seen; if anyone had told me that people with blue eyes exist, I would have laughed. I almost immediately realized you weren't a sorcerer or immortal. But in that moment, you were everything I believe in. And that's enough for me..."

Not once before had someone mistaken him for a yaoguai, but no one had ever looked at him with such affection when admitting it, as Yukinari did at that moment. Gerel felt awkward; he almost saw his sharp, uncomfortable face from an outside perspective, the creases at the corners of his mouth, the fine lines around his eyes; his hand instinctively brushed through the hair that had turned almost white from the sun, now grown almost to his shoulders.

"Nomads call people like me white blood — those people are sometimes born in the lands of the South, though rarely. It seems you've never seen a Stranger, or you wouldn't have mistaken me for one..."

"Have you seen them?" Yukinari asked eagerly. "Wait, you're from the South? And your hatred for the nomads, which has become legendary — does that mean you fought against your own people...?"

Gerel mentally cursed himself. He'd almost said too much again. He needed to be more careful.

"Yes, I'm from the South, and my name comes from the lands of the Sun Bird, not the Tiger. But it's not interesting, and it doesn't matter. Do you seriously believe in the Strangers, your Majesty? You shouldn't listen to the rumors of uneducated peasants or the tales of the decrepit Taoists. It's like believing in... the Tiger and the Dragon."

"I believe that the boundaries of the world aren't as narrow as we often think, and there are many things in this world that we still need to discover and understand," Yukinari replied peacefully.

Gerel thought about the Strangers. The fox-girl, the cloth in brown spots, the bitter-sweet smell mixing with the scent of blood. What seems magical, beautiful, and mysterious through the lens of ignorance, upon closer inspection, turns out to be as ugly and sorrowful as everything else in this world. These thoughts bothered him, and to push them away, he reminded himself:

"We were talking about gods."

"Yes..." Yukinari paused. "I'm not sure it's worth discussing this with you, because I can see that you won't agree with me. But if you really are interested, I believe in gods because it's clear to me that everything that happens in the world is not by chance. The gods guide us, change us, and because of them, the most important people in our lives appear, and through them, we experience our happiest and most difficult moments..."

"Honestly, that sounds repulsive to me," Gerel said bluntly. "The thought that we're just toys in someone's hands, that we're helpless... Why would anyone believe in that?"

"We can accept our fate with dignity, which means we're not helpless. I think we should be thankful to the gods: they make us who we are."

Gerel couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh:

"I'd gladly be someone else. And from what I can tell, you don't seem very pleased with your fate either."

"No," Yukinari said firmly. "I'm glad I am who I am, that I have the power to change something for the better... You're right, life is suffering, but it's through suffering and trials that we become who we are; and we are loved for who we've become, not for who we might have been. I believe life is also happiness, if you have loved ones to share it with. Then the burden placed on you by the gods becomes a joy."

Gerel decided not to argue — there was no point in stepping onto such treacherous, foreign ground. He had no loved ones, and he had no intention of getting close to anyone. Even if he did, it was unlikely that someone like him could ever make it happen. The only woman who had ever meant anything to him had passed away so long ago that he could scarcely remember her face.

And what about Yukinari? Did he have loved ones?

Suddenly, Gerel wondered if this might be their last conversation, and the thought unsettled him.

"Forgive me if anything I've said during our conversation has offended you," he said. "Our views on life are very different..."

"At least you didn't say 'no'..."

"I'm not sure what to say yet," Gerel admitted honestly. "But you will come tomorrow, won't you?"

"I will. I want to talk to you about miracles."

Yukinari smiled, the kind of smile one gives just before making a successful move.