Chapter 18: To Live or Exist

His earliest memory of that day was the sight of the fountain outside Pendragon Imperial Palace—no mere ornament but a massive, elaborate display of wealth. Its marble rim, towering pillars, and lions spouting water were sculpted with masterful precision, their details enhanced with gold inlays and gems.

Lelouch had always dismissed the fountain as unnecessarily gaudy—a lavish symbol of wealth with little practical purpose. His mother, sharing his disdain, often joked that the nobility were like children craving sweets yet avoiding vegetables. Perhaps that was why whenever he recalled that day, the fountain’s image was vivid, the sound of water clear as if he stood beside it.

His reverie was interrupted by massive oak doors swinging open and the doorman's announcement: "Announcing Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, 17th heir to the royal Britannian imperial throne!" There, he stood in the doorway as expected, clad in a fine suit and red cape befitting a prince.

The vast hall awaited him—a place he had set foot in only once before. On either side, high nobility in elegant attire bowed respectfully. At the far end, his father, Emperor Charles zi Britannia, sat on his throne. Though his hair had long since turned white, not one doubted his cunning, ruthlessness, or strength. The 98th Emperor, as much the lion he'd been when he seized power by eliminating all challengers.

Lelouch walked in with a measured stride, his head held high and his eyes fixed ahead. He remembered the challenge of maintaining composure among the nobles, who outwardly showed respect while whispering like snakes.

“I heard Empress Marianne was killed at the Aries Imperial Villa.”

“There’s no way terrorists breached that place.”

“Which means the real assassins are—”

“Be cautious, or you’ll regret speaking such words.”

Lelouch ignored these murmurs, refusing to glance at those who treated tragedy as mere morning gossip. He knew his branch of the family, forged by his mother, was always viewed as an outsider by those born into wealth without merit.

He knew they didn't care. His mother was brutally murdered in a hail of bullets in her own home. Not one of them mourned for them.

"And yet the boy endures, despite his mother's death." At that moment, Lelouch wished to denounce the speaker but held his tongue.

"And the Ashford family behind him is finished, too." He recalled old Rueben, his closest semblance of an uncle or grandfather. His family had once been close to Rueben's, and there were even talks of marrying their daughter, Milly, to him. However, as enemies closed in from all sides, even as he assumed leadership of the vi Britannia house and the imperial title, Lelouch could only watch. “And his sister?”

“And his sister?”

“I understand she was shot in the legs—and lost her sight.”

“Blindness from trauma, isn’t it?”

"A pity. Now, she can't be married off for political gain." Lelouch's control was tested as he clenched his fists, the pressure in his hand so intense that his nails threatened his skin. How dare these parasites speak like that?

They did not see her—lying beneath his mother's cooling corpse, her eyes wide open yet blind to the world, her blood mingling with her mother's. They were oblivious to her suffering in the hospital after desperate surgeries to save her life. None of them had bothered to send a 'get well' card. Yet, they had the nerve to discuss her as if she were nothing more than a pawn in their games of politicking?

Lelouch vividly recalled the surge of rage that overwhelmed him at their callous words, hatred for those leeches that would never subside. The boy he once was longed to lash out, to scream and silence them forever, yet he maintained his composure as expected of one of his rank. Though barely ten years old, he understood that any sign of uncontrolled fury would cast him aside like a child misbehaving.

Despite his youth, Lelouch was remarkably clever. It was why his older brother, Schneizel, devoted time to him, not merely playing chess but engaging him in strategic games while imparting lessons on rhetoric and statecraft. This intellect compelled him to keep his plans secret from Schneizel and his sister, Cornelia. He knew the risks: even a mere suggestion of defiance would have seen their personal guard confiding him to the Aries villa.

Lelouch did not begrudge their caution. He understood why they avoided requesting a meeting with their father—the Emperor was neither tender nor affectionate, contrary to what his mother claimed in private. To Lelouch, he and Nunnally were nothing more than the offspring of his father's favored consort—an insult he intended to weaponize.

Surely, his father would act against those who dared attack his consort; any offense against her could be framed as an attack on Charles himself, an offense that demanded retribution.

If such actions could ensure his mother’s murderers were captured and punished, if Nunnally could awaken to learn justice was served, Lelouch was prepared to risk everything—even if it meant provoking the lion that ruled Britannia.

Lelouch reached his father and bowed. “Hail, your majesty, my mother—the empress—is dead.”

"Old news. What of it?" Charles replied flatly, leaving Lelouch stunned by his father's indifference. He was expecting something, but not this.

"You sought an audience to inform me of such?" Charles turned away dismissively. "Send the next one in—I have no time for childish games."

"Father!" Lelouch cried, charging forward. His guards reacted instantly and moved to restrain him until Charles raised a hand and halted them.

The soldiers returned with a curt "Yes, Your Majesty!" while Lelouch's gaze fixed on his father. This was his do-or-die moment, his only chance to be heard.

"Why do you rule this nation, father? Why is it that you sit on that throne? Why is it that the crown rests on your head? It's because you are the strongest of us. After all, you crushed all that could oppose you!"

He continued, desperate to force a response. “How can you command when your enemies have reared their heads, striking down my mother—your favored consort? Why did you stop investigating her murder, leaving these villains free? And why have you not visited your wounded daughter?” His voice cracked near the end

Charles listened with eyes closed, then slowly opened them as Lelouch finished. Before the boy could speak further, he sensed his defeat. Finally, Charles said, “Because I have no use for that weakling.”

“That weakling?” Lelouch repeated, his mind reeling at the callous dismissal. His daughter was barely six, injured in a surprise attack—and yet he labeled her weak.

Charles remained unmoved, as unyielding as the stone fountain lions. "You understand one truth, boy. I am the strongest and accept only those who serve my purpose. I have no use for the dead or for a crippled little girl. That is why I sit on this throne and wear the crown. The sooner you accept that this is the nature of royalty, the better."

"Royalty…?" Lelouch's fists clenched, and his teeth ground together as his heart pounded and blood boiled until he finally spoke.

“If that’s all you call royalty, then I renounce my claim to the throne!” he barked at his father, taking grim satisfaction in the shocked gasps of the sycophants behind him. His gaze never left the monster who dared call himself his father. “I’m sick of endless fighting and scheming, Father—I’ve had enough! You’ve already stolen my mother from me; I refuse to lose any more!”

“And what do you have, boy?” Charles demanded, his glare turning anger into icy fear. “What do you possess that I did not bestow upon you? Your clothes, your home, your food, your sister—your very name—all were gifts from me. You have nothing, for you’ve been dead to me since birth, yet you dare to challenge me?” Charles roared, rising so abruptly that Lelouch tripped on his cape and fell.

In that humiliating moment, Lelouch saw his father regard him as nothing more than a pest—a rat to be ignored or crushed. And unlike a clever rodent, he had made himself known as a nuisance.

“Lelouch, unlike your mother, you may be dead, but I can still use you. I’m sending you and your sister to Japan—you will serve as bargaining chips,” Charles ordered.

In that instant, any lingering fear within Lelouch evaporated, replaced by a deep, seething wrath that began to transform him. Catching the Emperor by surprise, if only for a moment, his fearful expression shifted into a defiant scowl.

Lelouch picked himself up, shaking off the attendant who tried to help him, nearly growling at the man. With the entire court watching, he ripped off his cape and discarded the gold chain. Striding out, his murderous look silenced the smirking nobles. At least they finally shut up.

Line break

Lelouch sat at his bedside with C.C. asleep beside him. He despised the sight of himself tormented by nightmares—his father's callous words piercing his mind like sharpened nails. Clutching his head, he focused on slow, deliberate breaths, striving to bury the memories that had robbed him of peace for years.

With each deep inhalation, his father’s cruelty faded, replaced by the maddening chaos of hatred, bloodlust, and disgust—a familiar yet unwelcome storm. His face contorted into a monstrous mask as wild, violent eyes sprang open, revealing fractured parts of his psyche straining against their chains.

He repeated in a low, steady mantra, "I'm alive. I matter. I have a name. I have people worth protecting. I'm not a tool." Each word was a defiant heartbeat, an effort to reclaim order from the chaos within.

Line Break

Cornelia had spent far more time than she cared to admit cleaning up in Area 11 government, but her patience had finally worn thin. So, she decided to visit one of the few competent individuals in this backwater zone: Professor Asplund—a name that said much about the rest.

While surveying some of the standby Sutherlands, she listened as the professor detailed his latest masterpiece. “It’s a seventh-generation machine, and our data clearly shows it far exceeds the capabilities of our current stock of knightmares,” Lloyd informed her. Cornelia already knew, having reviewed the figures from Shinjuku and the Purebloods’ little coup.

“I understand the Lancelot’s pilot is an Eleven,” Cornelia said dryly, unamused from reading his name in the file.

Lloyd recognized her simmering anger. Though he could remind her that she couldn't touch him after the Pureblood incident, he sensed Cecile's disapproval and chose diplomacy. "Correct, Your Highness. However, I must add that Private Kururugi has outperformed every other devicer we’ve had, and his loyalty is unquestionable.”

Cornelia's response was swift. "I'm promoting him from private to warrant officer. I'm trying to handle this mess without relying solely on numbers." Her distrust of numbers, especially among military honoraries, was well known. Those who would sign up and fight their own people were the least trustworthy

to her.

Serving as sub-viceroy in her quiet office, Euphemia reflected on her sister's relentless nature. Cornelia believed that true rule belonged only to those who risked their lives in battle—a creed that often clashed with the bureaucratic ways of the state. Despite their love for one another, Cornelia's hard-headedness frequently ruffled her feathers.

Now, with Zero lingering in the shadows, Euphemia sensed that Cornelia's impatience with the masked man's refusal to show himself was growing. She suspected her sister was plotting something drastic, though the scheme remained hidden. One thing was clear: Euphemia had a terrible feeling in her gut about what might come next.

Line Break

"Thanks for helping me with this," Suzaku said as he accepted Cecile's assistance. With Lloyd away, she had decided to spare some time for him, knowing that even in a place where most were self-sufficient, a bit of extra help never hurts.

"It's nothing—you never had a chance to attend a regular school. Besides, it brings back fond memories," Cecile replied warmly. Her reminiscences of high school days—albeit peppered with memories of heated arguments involving Lloyd and another classmate—always lightened her mood.

Suzaku returned her smile, though inwardly, he thought she might be wasting her effort with the Lancelot looming nearby. "You're not the only one helping; the student council members also pitch in. But honestly, I'm really behind on a lot of things."

"That's good to hear," Cecile said. "Not that you're struggling, but having people you can rely on is important. I was worried you might have trouble finding genuine friends here. It's a liberal school, but you know how some people can be." Though she often fretted about the chaos at school, Suzaku seemed to adapt well, and his cheerful demeanor only reinforced her hope.

He vividly recalled his first day, ending with a surprising reunion that, thankfully, did not result in one getting shot. "I ran into an old friend that day. He smoothed things over, and things have been much better since."

Cecile nodded. “Just don’t take that friend for granted. Your meeting wasn’t mere coincidence—it was meant to show you the man you’re becoming.”

Suzaku’s cheeks flushed with bashfulness. “Oh, I wouldn’t say it like that.”

"Of course not," she chuckled, blending motherly affection with genuine amusement. Then, with a small flourish, Cecile presented a plate. "Please try one of these."

Suzaku blinked at the rice-based treat, surprised to see onigiri served in a Britannian setting. “Onigiri?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, still smiling gently. “I tried making them recently and would love your honest opinion—especially coming from someone who’s tasted the real thing.”

A warm feeling spread through Suzaku at her kindness. Yet, as he took a bite, he paused mid-chew upon detecting an unexpected flavor and texture. “There’s jam?” he asked, examining the half-eaten onigiri.

Cecile nodded, unfazed. “Yes, I managed to get some lovely blueberries.”

Suzaku suddenly understood why many warned against Cecile’s culinary experiments. Before he could protest further and risk hurting her feelings, Lloyd returned from his meeting with Cornelia. His face was solemn as he announced, “All right, everyone! That’s enough for today! Pack it up—we’re done for the day! Hip-hip, hooray!” With a theatrical bow, he added, “That’s all, folks.”

Unsure of what to make of Lloyd's performance, Suzaku watched as others returned to their barracks or wandered off to wrap up their tasks. Cecile, however, had different plans. "Why don't you head back to campus? Classes might be over, but it's important to maintain a social life, too."

Suzaku smiled, grateful for her concern.

Line Break

“Do you know why I called you two here?”

The simple question made the two Ashford students break into a cold sweat. Summoned from their club activities to meet with the student council, they found themselves not in a formal meeting room but a rarely used, cramped office where the Vice President awaited them. Throughout the silent walk, they couldn't help but notice the two ravens perched on his shoulders and the massive dog trotting at his side.

Lelouch eventually settled into his seat with a deliberate, relaxed poise, denying them even the chance to sit as if silently daring them to slip up. Abruptly, he spoke while leafing through files, making it seem he had almost forgotten their presence—perhaps waiting for Milly, who had originally requested their attendance.

“Uhm… no,” stammered the skinny student.

“Can’t think of anything, Lelouch,” the other added, adjusting his bandana with forced nonchalance.

“Can’t think of anything… what an interesting response,” Lelouch murmured without immediately looking up from his paperwork. He set his pen aside and reached beneath his desk for something. “Before I explain why you’re here, I want to show you this.”

He placed a clear plastic bag on the table. Inside lay a crumpled boy's P.E. uniform, unmistakably marked by red spray paint. The sight made the students shiver, especially under Lelouch's piercing gaze—further emphasized by the silent scrutiny of the ravens.

“The school has strict rules against bullying and vandalism,” Lelouch began, slowly opening the bag and retrieving Suzaku’s gym shirt—a shirt he had fought hard to clean. Even his extraordinary strength and a mountain of detergent couldn’t erase the crude message, “Go back to the ghettos.”

“Someone decided they were exempt from the rules when they defaced Suzaku’s clothes,” he stated.

The students’ anxiety deepened as they sensed the gravity of the situation, though one managed a weak, “Oh, that’s tragic.”

“I hope you catch them soon,” Lelouch sighed, carefully returning the ruined garments to the bag.

"Yes, unfortunately, I haven't found any concrete evidence yet, so I can't report this to the teachers," Lelouch explained. The two students exhaled quietly in relief; they'd carefully disposed of the evidence off campus.

“Oh, really? Well, with you on the case, you’ll catch them soon enough,” the skinny one said. Lelouch merely nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

Lelouch relished moments like these—when they believed they'd slipped free of his control, only to find his grip tighten like a vice. "I have them exactly where I want. Now, listen up," he continued, his tone turning steely. "I'm cutting your club's budget by 20%."

Their eyes widened in disbelief. “20%?!” one cried out.

“We barely managed an increase last semester. How are we supposed to cover expenses now? We’re already short on members, and we need to replace gear!” protested the bandana-wearer, his mind already on the cost of his ruined camera.

“You should have thought of that before you morons decided to test my patience,” Lelouch snapped, his earlier smile vanishing as his eyes grew cold. Leaning forward, he forced them back. “Suzaku is under my aegis—I made that clear. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out who defaced his stuff? That I wouldn’t retaliate?”

“B-but you can’t!” they stuttered, their protests tinged with fear. They knew his reputation well; hardly anyone in Ashford dared cross him. Memories of the ‘stairs incident’ still haunted them.

“You said you lacked proof!” one tried to argue, hinting that teacher intervention might force him to stop this unjust punishment.

"I told you—I have nothing the teachers would accept as grounds for disciplinary action. That's beyond my control. But as VP, I can adjust club budgets as I see fit," Lelouch reminded them firmly. The council's power was unchecked except by the principal, and since you two broke my rules, no one was coming to save you.

At that moment, Pedro growled. The massive dog rose and glared, silencing the troublemakers as they shrank back in terror.

Lelouch snapped his fingers, commanding their attention. "Listen up, you brainless dullards. You have 24 hours to publicly apologize to him and hand over the funds needed to replace what you ruined—then I might reduce your penalty to 10%. But if you fail or try to cheat me or him in the future…" His voice trailed off, leaving a heavy silence punctuated by his cold stare and the menacing glare of the massive dog at his side—a dog without a leash.

He continued dismissively, “Let’s just say the rugby team gets new tackling dummies. Now, get out of my sight before I decide to see how far you can run before becoming Pedro’s chew toy.” With that, he returned to his work, leaving the pair slumped as they began to leave.

Before they reached the door, Lelouch added, "One more thing: your club's president has been informed about the budget cut and the reasons behind it." His finality left no room for negotiation.

They realized, too late, that Lelouch had ensured he was the sole enforcer while someone else in the council would handle the others. Now, they must publicly apologize, pay for the damages, and face the wrath of their furious club—a punishment they hadn't bargained for.

Line Break

As Lelouch dealt with the two troublemakers in the council room, Kallen and Shirley built Arthur's new play area—a council-funded project. Kallen sorted through boxes while Shirley watched, frowning as she had long wanted to speak with her.

“Kallen, I wanted to apologize,” Shirley began tentatively, drawing Kallen’s attention from a box of cat toys. “You remember how we cornered Arthur the other day?”

Kallen glanced away, uneasy. "Oh, yeah…I do," she murmured, the memory tinged with awkwardness now that they knew what the cat had.

“I’m really sorry—it wasn’t right for me to push you like that and freak out,” Shirley insisted, her voice soft with genuine remorse.

"It's…fine, no harm done," Kallen sighed, though a flicker of residual anger was there. After all, high school drama often ran its course; many girls got carried away with boys.

"But then, if you weren't…you know, with Lulu, why were you so determined to catch Arthur?" Shirley pressed her brow furrowing.

Kallen pursed her lips before replying, "Because Milly put all our lips on the line, remember?" The thought sent a shiver through her as she recalled the leering looks from the boys. She'd never wanted to break character so fiercely. She shook her head and asked, "Why were you asking all those questions? I only joined the council recently."

Blushing, Shirley tapped her fingers together. "Well, I noticed Lelouch talking to you, and then he grabbed your face—like he was about to kiss you."

Kallen’s cheeks reddened, though she groaned inwardly. “Shirley, nothing happened. He grabbed me because he saw someone annoying and didn’t want them to notice me.”

Shirley looked incredulous. “So, he grabbed your face like he was going to kiss you?”

“Trust me, I was confused too,” Kallen muttered. “Besides, he’s dating someone else—can’t you ask her for the details?”

Shirley's expression twisted into frustration. "I tried! She isn't a student, so I can't track Claude on campus. Lulu said he met her gambling, and the last time he went out, he got into a big mess and fell into some stupid truck. Now I hear he snuck a girl onto campus, too! It's too much!"

When she heard the last part, Kallen was about to dismiss the story as trivial. "A truck? When did that happen?" she asked, her curiosity now piqued despite herself.

Shirley sighed and steadied herself before recounting the incident. “It happened a couple of days before you joined the council. Lelouch and Rivalz skipped class again to go gambling and nearly got run over by a speeding truck on the highway. Instead of calling for help or returning to school, Lelouch rushed to assist them—and ended up falling in.”

She explained further how the truck had barreled along until Lelouch captured their attention. However, he was so close to Shinjuku that he got caught in a military blockade, taking hours to return. Kallen nodded absently though her mind was elsewhere. Had Shirley looked her way, she would have seen Kallen gripping her purse so tightly that the concealed blade threatened to slip out.

At that moment, Kallen realized something was amiss—Shirley, no, Lelouch must have lied. The timeline matched: she remembered Nagata nearly hitting a bike on the freeway. What were the odds of two similar incidents occurring on the same day? Slim, that's what. As she regained consciousness after the crash, a faint noise had reached her ears, but she hadn't paid it much mind. Was that Lelouch trying to get their attention?

She pondered as if Lelouch had climbed onto their truck and tumbled in. Would he have seen her then? No, she thought—he would have hidden behind that ridiculous capsule. Yet if he saw her, he must have known. That explained why he approached her later, though his surprise when she seemingly refused him still puzzled her.

So he was there—he must have been since Nagata made it into the ghetto. But how did he escape? Unless… he fought his way out.

“Zero,” she muttered, quickly stashing her knife as she realized one thing for sure: her masked leader was closer than she’d ever imagined.

Line Break

Outside the council room, while Milly fielded a call from her mother in the principal’s office about yet another potential husband—one her mother warned she must not scare off like the others—and Nina celebrated a minor breakthrough in her research, Cornelia began moving troops through the settlement. Rivalz was out on errands, catching sight of the massive G-1 Mobile base rumbling through.

From various city bases, knightmares, armored vehicles, and attack VTOLs launched toward the Saitama ghetto. They swiftly sealed off all exits while their air support kept a vigilant eye on the residents, many of whom hurried indoors as the fresh memories of Shinjuku haunted them.

Aboard the G-1, Andreas Dalton—one of Cornelia’s most trusted advisors and soldiers—reported on the unfolding situation. Intelligence had revealed that the ghetto harbored a persistent resistance group calling itself the Yamato Alliance, and there were suspicions that at least one-third of the residents were covertly aiding them.

“What will be the effect on productivity?” Cornelia asked, her tone measured yet authoritative.

“Primary sector output should drop by 0.2%,” Dalton replied calmly.

“Within expectations, you mean,” she murmured, resting her head on her knuckles as she sat upon her throne. Her gaze then shifted to a newcomer. “Does this align with the opening of Shinjuku, Jeremiah?”

Jeremiah, who had been kept busy by Dalton's relentless work with him and the Purebloods, chose his words carefully. "Viceroy, based on my field experiences and imagining myself in the shoes of your dispatched forces, it does seem to match up."

Cornelia nodded, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the ghetto. A deep frown creased her otherwise beautiful face. How she loathed these twice-damned islands, yet duty compelled her—if it meant slaughtering a few hundred Elevens, she would lose no sleep. “Then we should commence the operation soon,” she declared.

Her dependable knight, Guilford, leaned in and murmured, “Your Highness, perhaps we should delay. Although tensions have eased, re-creating Shinjuku in its entirety might be unwise.”

Cornelia’s frown twisted into a sneer. “Are people still mourning that? Clovis acted within his full rights as an imperial prince to cull numbers—it's written in law.” She recalled her father’s stern words at Clovis’ memorial and the endless debates with Euphie over condemning it or funding Shinjuku’s reconstruction as if it hadn’t been reduced to rubble.

Guilford remained pragmatic. “Yet some remain squeamish about such bloody measures.”

“Damned cowardly moderates,” Cornelia grumbled. Still, she remembered Schneizel’s counsel on compromise when total control was unattainable. “Very well—here’s the change of operations. Get the media briefed immediately.”

Line Break

“Military authorities report they’ve surrounded the Saitama ghetto—a known hideout for terrorists—with Viceroy Cornelia on scene and entry strictly restricted. According to the report, the Viceroy will lead a strike against the Yamato Alliance and its collaborators in the next six hours.” The news anchor read the report from the teleprompter as Diethard stood aside with one of his managers.

“I understand the announcement, but why reveal the time?” his manager asked, puzzled by the uncharacteristic disclosure.

Diethard replied, "It's all about optics. Cornelia can't simply storm in and slaughter them wholesale. She must allow civilians time to flee, even though anyone who knows the ghetto's size would realize six hours won't evacuate half the people." He added quietly that many would take comfort in thinking the innocent had already escaped—even though Cornelia had locked down every exit. Her troops were as trigger-happy as Clovis's had been.

"Okay, but why not extend the time limit further?" his manager pressed, marveling at how Diethard managed to be so informed yet so nonchalant.

"Because this is also her ploy to lure out Zero," Diethard explained. "If the time limit were too long, he'd have ample time to prepare—or worse, recognize the trap and back out," Diethard muttered under his breath, hoping the masked man would once again stun them all with a grand performance.

Line Break

“Zero is a criminal with a flair for the dramatic. I have nearly recreated the very conditions present in Shinjuku. If he is overconfident, he will surely appear, intending to stop and kill me." Cornelia explained

All while Jeremiah froze—haunted by flashbacks of past failures, picturing her body shattered by gunfire as Zero’s maniacal laugh echoed ominously from the shadows.

Jeremiah stepped forward and bowed low. “Viceroy Cornelia, I must voice my concern. We still do not know how Zero slew Prince Clovis and escaped. Is it truly wise to risk your life as well?”

Line Break

Lelouch and C.C. watched the new details of the upcoming operation in their room. “Cornelia once told me that war is a struggle between pride and life – the desire to stand for something versus merely surviving,” Lelouch began. “If Zero fails to appear, she could easily paint him as a charlatan, a false protector, crippling my efforts.”

C.C. shifted on the bed; her sheet decorated with stickers earned from ordering three large pizzas at a time—a quirky little reward waiting for her if she ordered another 9. “And yet,” she replied, “this is nothing but a trap set for you. I can’t have that.”

Lelouch’s tone darkened as he recalled bitter memories, especially that “fun” time interrogating his bastard of a brother. “But they went through such trouble that refusing her isn’t an option, especially when Clovis named her as someone I could question.”

C.C. barely registered his mood change, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "Tell me," she prompted, "what matters more to you—finding who killed your mother or destroying Britannia?"

Switching off the TV, Lelouch’s gaze hardened. “Both are equally important. The royal family isn’t competing for the throne as individuals; they’re being made to fight by an emperor who cares nothing for human life as long as his ambitions are fulfilled.” His eyes narrowed as he recalled that man with venom.

“Yet that very ruthlessness is what makes Britannia strong. Whoever claims the throne by such means would be deemed the fittest – merely survival of the fittest,” C.C. stated coolly.

Turning to her, Lelouch’s eyes blazed with hatred—and something else she couldn’t quite name. “And what about Nunnally? Should I cast her aside for being frail? I refused then, and I refuse now, and I will continue to refuse! I reject a system that values only strength. What, in this twisted world, truly constitutes strength? Is it simply the power to kill and seize what you want? Nature may endorse survival of the fittest, but I refuse to accept a reality where humanity lives by that law.”

Lelouch's agitation grew, a crack appearing in his violet eyes as C.C. sensed something amiss. "What's the point of feeling, of developing emotions, thinking, theorizing, and reasoning if we're doomed to revert to the mindset of the first fish that crawled onto land?" He paused to catch his breath before continuing, "Everyone has value. I'll force Britannia—no, all of humanity—to understand that, even if I have to burn an empire to the ground to prove my point." He swore, but as he stepped forward, he stumbled, nearly falling as pain twisted his face.

“Are you all right?” C.C. asked, concern evident as she felt the strange sensation through their link—a headache that wasn’t typical, not a migraine or stroke, but something else entirely.

"I'm fine, just a bit worked up," he replied, steadying himself. His eyes burned with the fury of a storm. When he neared that tempest of violent hate, it became unbearable. "Cornelia will pay for this. She thinks I'll play by her rules but is about to learn differently."

“So, you won’t go in today?” C.C. asked, relieved that her contractor—and current lover—was not about to act recklessly.

"Only a fool would rush in unprepared. I bested Clovis, but he was a drop compared to the ocean, which is Cornelia. She earned the title of Britannia's Goddess of Victory by conquering three areas." He admitted, pausing briefly to banish the dark thought of assassinating Euphemia—she remained innocent until proven otherwise.

"That said, I won't waste this opportunity," Lelouch continued as he moved toward his bedside. "Cornelia will be preoccupied for the next eight, maybe nine hours, and most would expect my presence there." He retrieved his sidearm with a determined air.

“So, you’ll use the diversion to leave them to die? How ruthless,” C.C. prodded, earning a withering look in return.

“I choose not to die a pointless death with them. Besides, I have other matters to attend to.” He gestured toward his eye as he activated his power. “We’re going to hit a Code-R research base.”

Line Break

Ohgi was watching the news, like everyone else, and to say he was nervous would be an understatement. They had worried something like this would happen, and now the time had come. Saitama was one of the largest ghettos in central Japan; it housed tens of thousands of people, and if Cornelia was half as ruthless as Clovis….

Already, Tamaki was demanding that they head out, that they make use of their Sutherlands to fight, and for a rare time, he wasn't the only one, as Minami and Yoshida also agreed with their resident hothead. Tamaki, having been the least impressed with Zero's refusal to fight Cornelia or assist other rebel cells wiped off the map, but Ohgi was hesitant. He understood why Tamaki was angry, why they were all angry, because he felt that same anger. He felt it whenever he went out and saw what had become of his once proud nation and people.

But they didn’t understand that he didn’t want them to throw their lives away. Sure, they had some Sutherlands, but while they had a surprise, they'll be fighting an uphill battle this time against Cornelia, a woman whose skills have brought legitimate armies down and the best superior commander to him. So, this time, he wouldn't call Zero about it, as he could bet that the man would agree that this was suicide, though he knew it would be a headache to explain that to the others.

Then his phone started to ring, and when he picked it up, he saw that Zero seemed to have bucked the trend and contacted him this time.

“Zero, have you seen the news?” Ohgi asked.

“I have, we’re not intervening.” Zero’s response was sharp and crisp.

Ohgi tried to hide his relief at it. “Yeah, I figured this would be way too much for us. But what should I tell the rest?”

Zero’s response was preceded by a chuckle. “Whoever said that you're not going to be doing anything today? How many of the Sutherlands are in fighting shape?”

“Wha-I mean, 7. 7 Sutherlands. Why?” Ohgi asked; as didn't Zero just say they wouldn't get involved? Why would he want to know about their knightmares?

“We'll need just four of them. How fast can you get them loaded up and to Choshi via the underground tunnels?” Zero asked, ignoring the question.

“Choshi? That's maybe four hours at best, and that's if we start now. What are you planning?” Ohgi asked, as there was no reason to head out that far east, at least none that he knew about.

“You recall Project Eden? It's time we target them with the Viceroy's attention off us. I'll contact Kallen and inform her of the plans. I will meet you there with some necessary equipment, and be ready to get wet.” With that, Zero ended the call and left Ohgi to ponder what just happened.

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"Shit," Kallen quietly swore as she walked down the halls of the school towards. She was already trying to unravel the mystery of Lelouch Lamperouge and why he would be a terrorist when she saw the news. If she could, she would have screamed and cursed out Cornelia for what was a blatant attempt to just massacre a bunch of Japanese.

Part of why she was able to hold it in long enough to excuse herself was the fact she had a good idea of who Zero was, so she would speak to him directly about getting in there as with her skills in a knightmare, and his strategies, they could at least buy the people time to escape.

She was about to enter the Lamperouge wing of the building when she got a message. Her friends didn’t send many texts, so she assumed it had to be important or even from Ohgi and pulled her phone out.

Zero: Afternoon, Q-1. We’re making our move against Project Eden. Head to these co-ordinates 

Kallen frowned at the location given, as it was nowhere near Saitama. While the fact that Zero had her number was…concerning, she just took it as proof that he was Lelouch rather than Zero being superhumanly resourceful.

“We’ll talk later then.”

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Driving into his 'Null' base, a name that C.C. will never cease using, Lelouch jumped out and went about grabbing things, some of which C.C. noted seemed to have been packed and ready to go. Heading to his tarped-covered projects, he turned on a terminal and started tying away at them, going through files and instructions before he turned back to her.

"It'll take 6 minutes for its energy filler to charge up. It's a shame that we won't get much use out of it, but today, the sister will shine." Lelouch noted as he looked away from the larger unit and towards the smaller one, which seemed like an oversized motorcycle. Still, she couldn't be sure till she saw more.

"Why are you so desperate to fight?" C.C. asked as she had noticed it as far back as Shinjuku when he got into that firefight. Lelouch seemed to revel in combat, not in the act of violence itself but in something else.

Lelouch stopped mid-step, as he was afraid she would ask such a question, but…she deserved an honest response.

He explained it with his back still turned to her as he worked. "Because I've understood a simple truth ever since I was exiled. That I was dead, never doing anything real, and merely pretending to be alive when I was doing was going through the motions of life. Such is the very opposite of life, a perverse mockery of it befitting the walking dead.”

Turning to her, she saw just how much this meant as he glared at nothing. "I always went to bed in fear of what the next day would bring and woke up angry that I would need to keep angry. I had no future past Ashford. The name 'Lamperouge' was a mask with a finite time on it. After that, I would need to design a new mask, and yet it would have been more of the same—a mere existence with little substance."

C.C. grimaced, as he didn't know it, but she understood that sentiment well, more than he could ever imagine as a life without purpose; it was almost as empty and cruel as a life without end. When all you didn't matter, what you wished for with all your heart would forever be kept out of reach but within sight…

She heard him approach and gasped a little when his hand came up to her cheek, raising it so that she looked him in the eye, where she saw a profound sense of gratitude. Shifting some of her hair behind her ear, Lelouch leaned in and laid a gentle, sweet kiss on her lips, which she didn't know how to take. She felt a part of her stir as she let herself be taken as his other arm came around her waist, holding her closer as she indulged in this.

When he eventually broke their little kiss, he kept his hands firm yet gentle and light on her. As if she was something he cherished. "But that changed the day I met you. Through meeting you, this snarky pizza-loving, demanding, and frustratingly secretive person, I found a means out of it, to crawl out of the grave that I have cast into, and much earlier than I hoped."

Lelouch sighed, hugging her closer as he buried his face into her hair. “I always planned to fight, but…I feared that by the time I could make a move, I would have lost the parts of myself that matter most. Even if I still wear the mask of Lamperouge, it’s because of you that I’m free to express myself through the mask of Zero.”

Laying a kiss on her head, he whispered with such conviction that she struggled to refute it. “So thank you, C.C. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

She was grateful that he didn't see her face, as she was getting emotional, which she didn't do. She had promised herself a long time ago that she wouldn't show such emotions for anything or anyone, and yet this foolish boy could draw them out without even noticing. It was preposterous.

But when his system dinged, alerting him that the energy fillers had been changed, and he stepped away, she wished for him to return. "Of course, I fully understand that this path could easily end with my death, and while I have no fear of my demise, I'm not about to throw my life away either. Not till I've done what I've set out to do." Lelouch told her as he walked over to the side where he stored his costume.

He paused mid-reach, before turning towards her with his confident smirk. "Besides, I still need to fulfill my end of the contract, right?" C.C. looked away, feeling a complex mix of emotions, but one thing stuck out.

When she reached for her lips, she could still feel the warmth of his words. With his back turned, she smiled.

'I was right; you'll be the most interesting of them all.' She thought before approaching him and asking if he would finally explain what they were doing.

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I have to confess something with this chapter; I made a MAJOR change to it as while I was talking with another person about it, I can't say when or how, but they mentioned Saitama, and in my head, I went, 'I need to change this.' So, there was a point as I wrote this: I just threw my notes out the window, and I'm betting that you'll be able to tell when that change was made, and if not, I'll just put it in the notes at the bottom.

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Yup, the big change- there'll be no battle of Saitama, at least, where Lelouch or any of the Black Knight's founding members appear. I've seen it done a few times; some have it win, others have him still lose, and truth be told, I planned for him to reveal what the bigger unknown project he has down there was and kill some of Cornelia's royal guard with it, but that seemed…I don't know; it didn't feel right. And when I went back, I realized why. At a certain time, the plans forget that Lelouch has knowledge his canon self wouldn't, and that would be Code-R.

And Cornelia throwing down the gauntlet draws attention away from it. His ploy of using a false name when he saved Suzaku also helped, as they probably assumed he just knew they existed but not much else. So this was too good a chance to pass up.

Also, another change that is bearing fruit is Kallen's suspicions coming back threefold now that she has evidence that he lied to his friend about where he was when Shinjuku went down. That was a long time coming, as the show gave him something of an easy out with how Milly distracted everyone and how it just never came up again.