Nouu

Courtiers in the gilded palace claim Nouu’s octopus knows more state secrets than the Emperor's own spies. They say it changes colour when lies are told and can unscrew any lock with a patient tentacle. The truth is simpler. Nouu’s mind was once a weapon, a blade of cold calculation honed in the empire's political chambers. Like Zenchi, they were tormented by their own sharpness, cutting away trust and warmth to win games of influence. Then came the octopus, a diplomatic curiosity left in an ornamental pond. Its patient, gentle grasp on Nouu's hand was a revelation. Here was a mind that solved problems not for power, but out of pure curiosity. It became the anchor that tempered Nouu’s steel, turning a cutting edge into a tool for understanding. The grin they wear now isn't for show; it's the quiet joy of someone who finally learned how to hold things without breaking them.