Crimson Overlord-Chapter 396: Mother-Daughter’s Time

As soon as the last of the shadow guards disappeared beyond the towering doors, the cold atmosphere of the throne room shifted. The frost in the air melted, replaced by an unexpected warmth. The rigid posture of Empress Ayame softened, and the ice in her piercing blue eyes thawed into something far more tender.

Kaguya blinked in surprise. It had been a long time since she had seen this side of her mother—the side that was not the Empress of the Cherry Blossom Empire, but simply Ayame, the woman who had once been a loving, doting mother before the weight of the crown had hardened her.

Ayame let out a soft sigh, her lips curving ever so slightly. "It has been too long since we have spent time together, my little moonflower."

Kaguya’s heart clenched at the nostalgic nickname, a remnant of her childhood. She had always been her mother’s "moonflower," named for her pale beauty and the way she seemed to glow under the moonlight.

Kaguya allowed herself to relax, a genuine smile forming on her lips. "It really has, Mother."

Ayame stood gracefully, descending the steps of the dais. Without her imperial mask, she looked younger, softer. Reaching out, she brushed a strand of Kaguya’s hair behind her ear, a rare display of affection.

"Come," Ayame said. "Tonight, I am not the Empress, and you are not the Crown Princess. Just a mother and daughter. Let’s have fun."

Kaguya felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I’d love that."

Together, they left the grand throne hall, stepping into a hidden corridor that led to Ayame’s private residence—a secluded estate within the palace grounds. The structure was far less intimidating than the grand palace, built in traditional architecture with elegant wooden frames, sliding doors, and a beautiful garden filled with cherry blossom trees that shimmered under the moonlight.

Inside, Ayame changed into a more comfortable outfit—a flowing lavender yukata with silver embroidery—before heading into the kitchen.

Kaguya leaned against the doorway, watching as her mother tied her long white hair into a loose bun and rolled up her sleeves. The sight of the Empress of the Cherry Blossom Empire preparing to cook was almost surreal.

"You’re actually going to cook?" Kaguya teased, crossing her arms. "Should I prepare the royal physicians just in case?"

Ayame shot her a playful glare. "Cheeky as ever. I’ll have you know that I was quite skilled before royal duties took over my life."

Kaguya chuckled, moving to help. "Fine, fine. I’ll assist you then."

The two worked side by side in the spacious kitchen, an activity they hadn’t done in years. Ayame prepared fresh fish, skillfully slicing it into thin, delicate sashimi, while Kaguya prepared the rice and miso soup. They chatted about trivial things—fond memories, old palace scandals, and the mischievous pranks Kaguya used to play as a child.

Before long, the table was filled with beautifully arranged dishes: a steaming hotpot, grilled fish glazed with a savory sauce, pickled vegetables, and a plate of colorful sushi rolls.

Once everything was ready, they sat across from each other, sharing a meal in a way that felt far more intimate than any grand banquet.

Ayame took a sip of tea before looking at her daughter. "I have missed this."

Kaguya swallowed a bite of sushi and nodded. "Me too."

After finishing their meal, they moved to the sitting room, where a variety of games and activities had been set up.

"Shall we start with shogi?" Ayame suggested, gesturing to the board.

Kaguya smirked. "Only if you’re prepared to lose."

The game began, both women moving their pieces with sharp precision. Kaguya had always prided herself on her strategic mind, but Ayame was just as cunning. Their battle of wits stretched on, each move more intense than the last.

"You’re holding back," Ayame noted, narrowing her eyes.

Kaguya grinned. "Maybe just a little. I didn’t want to make my mother feel old."

Ayame raised a brow before making a move that completely turned the game in her favor. "Checkmate."

Kaguya blinked. "What?! When did—?"

Ayame chuckled, pleased with herself. "Experience, my dear."

Pouting, Kaguya crossed her arms. "Fine. One loss. But let’s see how you handle something more active."

They moved on to a more physical game—a test of reflexes using enchanted wooden swords that emitted a soft glow. The goal was to tap the opponent’s wrist or shoulder while dodging their strikes.

Kaguya expected her mother to be slow, but Ayame surprised her with swift, elegant movements. Despite her years on the throne, her reflexes were razor-sharp.

By the end, both women were slightly breathless, but laughter filled the air.

As the night wore on, they tried different activities—painting in the garden under the lanterns, playing the koto together, and even indulging in a game of riddles, which ended in Kaguya groaning at how effortlessly her mother solved them all.

Eventually, they settled into the warm comfort of the tatami mat, sipping on sweet plum wine as the night stretched on.

Kaguya looked at her mother, who gazed at the moonlit garden with a rare, peaceful expression.

"Mother," Kaguya said softly. "Can we do this more often?"

Ayame turned to her, her expression gentle. "Of course. No matter what burdens we carry, I will always make time for you, my little moonflower."

Kaguya smiled, resting her head against her mother’s shoulder, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.

For tonight, there were no royal duties, no expectations—just a mother and daughter cherishing the rare moments they had together.

Kaguya closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of her mother’s presence wash over her. The gentle scent of plum wine and cherry blossoms lingered in the air, mixing with the soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. She felt safe, cherished—truly loved.

For so long, she had known her mother as the unshakable Empress, a woman of ice and duty, whose every decision shaped the fate of an empire. But tonight, she was simply Ayame—the mother who used to cradle her in her arms, who once told her bedtime stories under the glow of paper lanterns, who had always been there, even when her responsibilities pulled her away.

Kaguya tightened her hold around her mother’s arm, a rare display of affection she didn’t often allow herself to show. "I really am lucky to have you," she murmured.

Ayame stroked Kaguya’s hair gently, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "I should be the one saying that. You’ve grown into such a strong, capable woman. But no matter how much time passes, you will always be my little moonflower."

Kaguya sighed, content. "Promise me we’ll have more nights like this?"

Ayame pressed a light kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. "I promise."

And in that moment, Kaguya knew that no matter what trials awaited her in the future, she would always have this—this warmth, this love, this unbreakable bond with the woman who had given her life.