Rewrite Our Love? Too Late-Chapter 135: The Queen’s Return and the Silent Game of Thrones

After Yukima Azuma left the Sawamura residence, a quiet returned to the household. But it didn't last long.

Eriri, who had just finished washing her hands after a quick sketching session, saw her mother, Sayuri, walk into the kitchen with a tray full of used dishes. Instead of setting them in the sink like usual, Sayuri calmly loaded them into a sleek, stainless steel machine Eriri didn't recall ever seeing there before.

Leaning against the counter, eyes narrowed in surprise, Eriri asked,

"Mom, where did that dishwasher come from?"

Sayuri, drying her hands with a linen towel, looked back at her daughter with a composed smile.

"Azuma-kun brought it over. A gift," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Eriri blinked, and then a smile bloomed across her face, brighter than the kitchen light overhead. She looked like a little girl who'd just been told she could have ice cream for breakfast.

Sayuri gave a helpless sigh and shook her head.

Too easy.

A small token, a little attention, and her daughter was glowing for the rest of the day.

If I were a man, even I would choose someone as innocent as her to build a harem with, Sayuri thought with some amusement, though she quickly pushed the idea away.

A little coaxing and maybe this girl would even smile as he held another girl's hand beside her.

She shook her head, clearing her mind of such unhealthy speculations. Still, a dishwasher from Yukima Azuma? That wasn't just a convenience—it was a signal. One that Sayuri, with all her experience in high society, understood perfectly.

"By the way, Mom," Eriri spoke up again, tilting her head, "Why are you calling him Azuma-kun now?"

Sayuri glanced at her daughter, then turned away as if the question hadn't even been worth acknowledging. She didn't answer—instead, she changed the subject.

"There's a banquet tonight. You're coming with me."

"Huh?" Eriri blinked. The sudden shift caught her off guard.

Usually, her mother would casually ask if she felt like going to these events. Sometimes Eriri went, sometimes she didn't. They were stiff, stuffy affairs, requiring her to put on the act of a perfect noble young lady. She couldn't lounge around or speak freely like she did at home or with friends.

Still, they weren't terrible. Just... bland. Most of the time, the adults were too busy networking to notice her. The younger generation exchanged nothing more than polite greetings. It wasn't unpleasant, just dull.

So for her mother to say you're coming and not would you like to come? That was rare.

Eriri nodded slowly, still trying to figure out what was so different about tonight.

What she didn't know was that the respect and mild distance she usually received at these banquets weren't because people were polite by nature or awed by her demeanor.

It was because of the name she carried—Sawamura Spencer.

That Evening

Eriri descended the staircase of their manor dressed in a modest but elegant evening gown. Unlike her usual outfits that flaunted her golden curls or delicate neckline, this dress was refined, covering even her collarbone. A soft silvery shimmer traced the fabric, catching the light with her every step.

It would have been suffocating in the summer heat. But tonight, the entire journey—from home to car to banquet hall—was air-conditioned. Luxury had its benefits.

However, as she neared the bottom of the staircase, she came to a sudden halt.

"...Mom?"

Even Eriri, who had known Sayuri all her life, was stunned.

Her mother, usually the image of serene beauty in simple dresses, had gone all out. A sleek black evening gown hugged her form like it had been stitched by a master tailor, paired with a short designer jacket. Her hair was gathered into a classic updo, adorned with a delicate, jeweled hairpin. In her hand, she carried a folding fan that gave her an aura of both elegance and quiet command.

Tonight, Sayuri didn't look like a noblewoman attending a party.

She looked like a queen reclaiming her throne.

"Let's go," Sayuri said, gently fluttering the fan as she walked past her daughter.

Eriri wordlessly followed, slipping her hand around her mother's arm. No words were necessary.

Tonight was different.

Shinjuku, Tokyo – The Hidden Heart of Power

The city buzzed around them, a symphony of neon lights and late-night chatter. Deep in the heart of Shinjuku, behind a veil of glass and silence, stood an elite banquet hall. It opened only a few hours each day and spent half the year closed—its purpose unclear to outsiders.

But tonight, that mystery unraveled.

As dusk deepened, black sedans and luxury cars began to arrive. Chauffeurs opened doors for men and women in finely tailored suits and gowns.

This was no social event.

It was a networking war zone, cloaked in velvet and champagne.

The event's host: a veteran politician with roots buried deep in Tokyo's power structure. His protégé, recently elected to office with overwhelming support in the central district, was the centerpiece. Tonight, promising young leaders from Tokyo, Chiba, and Kanagawa mingled with corporate sponsors and shadowy dealmakers.

But the atmosphere shifted the moment Sayuri stepped into the hall.

Whispers traveled like electric pulses.

"The Sawamura family...?"

"She's here? In that dress?"

"Isn't that her daughter?"

The young men stiffened. The older ones raised eyebrows. Even among this elite gathering, Sayuri's presence was an event in itself.

MP Kobayashi—graying, shrewd, and always alert—excused himself from a circle of sycophants and moved swiftly through the crowd.

"Lady Sawamura," he greeted, bowing slightly as he reached her. "Welcome."

Sayuri responded with a light handshake, her smile neither cold nor warm. "Senior Kobayashi, your guidance truly raises extraordinary talent."

The man chuckled, modest but pleased. "Ah, you flatter me. The young ones simply put in the effort."

After a few pleasantries, his eyes flicked toward Eriri, then back. "You've come prepared tonight. Would you care to speak to the attendees?"

Sayuri covered her smile with her fan. "I brought my daughter tonight. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to speak to these young gentlemen directly."

Then, she lowered her fan slightly.

"However, if Senior Kobayashi wouldn't mind lending me a microphone, I do have a few words I'd like to share."

Kobayashi's disappointment gave way to interest. Sayuri never spoke publicly. If she was saying something tonight, it mattered.

"Of course. I'll have it arranged."

Elsewhere in the Hall

Near the buffet, two women with strikingly similar features were also the subject of quiet attention.

The elder had pristine posture and hair drawn back in a no-nonsense bun. Her daughter stood beside her, smiling politely at a group of guests. Their skin was snow-pale, their features refined, and their aura—regal.

The Yukinoshitas.

The elder, Mrs. Yukinoshita, was a member of parliament in a neighboring prefecture—respected, shrewd, and a known strategist.

Her daughter, Yukinoshita Haruno, played the part of the charming socialite flawlessly. But her thoughts were far from the conversation.

She was watching a young man across the room.

Yukima Azuma.

She knew a lot about him—his history, his ex-girlfriends, his current circles. She'd done her homework. But one thing had eluded her.

Eriri.

She had assumed "Eriri" was just a typical, pretty ex-girlfriend.

But that Eriri was none other than Sawamura Spencer Eriri—daughter of Sayuri Sawamura, who had just walked in like she owned the entire banquet hall.

Haruno's expression didn't change, but her heart skipped a beat.

This changed everything.

Eriri wasn't just Azuma's past—she was a power source. With her by his side, he could ascend at terrifying speed. More than wealth. More than influence. He had the backing of a queen.

And if Sayuri had truly decided to bet her cards on Azuma...

Where would that leave Yukino?

Haruno's fingers tightened around her wine glass. Her thoughts grew murky. She had lived among shadows too long to ignore what power like that meant. Yet...

Her mind flickered to that golden boy again. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

No. Not him.

She couldn't believe that he would ever use Yukino that way—not as a pawn, not as leverage.

He had stood in the sun.

He had looked at the world with unshaken eyes.

He was... different.

"Haruno... Haruno?" Her mother's voice finally pulled her back to reality.

She blinked, smiled. "Sorry, I was just thinking..."

But the game had already changed. And no one—not Yukino, not Haruno, not Sayuri—could afford to sit on the sidelines anymore.