At precisely 10:22, the study doors sealed with a pneumatic hiss. Sound dampeners activated, creating absolute privacy.

  "Bonding with a Sector 7 rat and with a Unique Requirement contract." Shinji's voice sliced through the silence, barely restrained anger vibrating in every word. "Do you comprehend what you've done?"

  Yuki’s pulse surged, fingertips tingling as panic threatened to surface. She forced herself to hold his gaze, gripping the edge of the desk behind her to hide trembling fingers. "The compatibility rating was unprecedented."

  "Precisely the issue." Shinji slammed his palm down, sending ripples of mana through the ancient desk. Yuki flinched involuntarily. "Five years—five years of careful negotiations with the Amamiyas—gone due to your weakness."

  The implication lit a spark of anger beneath her fear. Before she could stop herself, she responded, voice trembling despite her defiance, "Were those negotiations with me or about me?"

  Shinji froze, momentarily thrown by her question. His jaw tightened, veins standing stark on his neck. "You dare question—"

  Yuki drew a shuddering breath, steadying herself. "You know what 96% compatibility could mean. A bond of that magnitude could redefine resonance dynamics—it's worth the risk."

  Shinji’s voice dropped dangerously, each word heavy with controlled fury. "Worth the risk? With an untrained Catalyst from Sector 7? Have you forgotten the Yamasaki Incident? A single high compatibility pair with an untrained Catalyst nearly destroyed the entire eastern power grid. Hundreds dead, thousands displaced."

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  Yuki's heart thudded painfully. "Mitsuki's compatibility was only 78%," she said softly, her cousin’s fate hanging heavily between them. "I know the dangers. But properly guided, Reed and I could accomplish far more than any carefully negotiated pairing."

  He stared at her, eyes cold, calculation warring with fury. "Or you could fail catastrophically. That boy is not conditioned. He’s a liability—and now, so are you."

  Despite the chills racing up her spine, Yuki refused to lower her gaze. Her nails bit deeper into her palms, anchoring her courage. "Then let me control this. Trust me."

  Shinji's silence stretched painfully before he finally spoke, voice low with a dangerous edge. "Trust has nothing to do with it. This bond will be controlled—or severed. I don't care what damage results."

  "Severance at this stage would cause permanent channel damage," Yuki said, tension visible in her neck.

  "Then you will control it," Shinji demanded. "Limit its development. Serve your family's interests, not Katsuragi's agenda."

  Confusion momentarily broke through Yuki's composure. "Katsuragi's agenda?"

  "Don't play naive," Shinji circled her. "He's been pushing to break the founding families' hold for years. Searching for high-compatibility bonds to challenge our authority." His hand sliced through the air. "Testing lower-sector Catalysts against elite Meisters. Advocating for unrestricted access to techniques we've safeguarded for generations."

  He moved closer. "He wants our system dismantled! Family bloodlines made irrelevant! All our careful protections stripped away in the name of democratizing mana."

  "And the alternative has worked so well?" Yuki challenged. "The last unregistered high-compatibility pair in Sector 4—"

  "Destabilized an entire sector," Shinji finished, intensity threading his voice.

  A chime interrupted—the tone signaling an external priority communication. Shinji checked his wrist display, tension visible in his neck.

  "We're not finished," he said, reactivating the door. "You will remain at the compound tonight. Tomorrow you return to RIRW with absolute clarity about your responsibilities to this family."

  Yuki bowed—the precise depth required by protocol—but held his gaze two seconds longer than tradition permitted. The muscles around Shinji's eyes tightened, registering the defiance.