Tomoko Suzuki was, after all, a formidable woman of the conglomerate who had weathered many storms. After the initial intense shock, she forcibly suppressed the exclamation and questions that almost burst from her lips. She took a deep breath, using the motion of bending to pick up the dropped document folder to conceal her momentary loss of composure.
When she looked up again, her face had already regained the appropriate, polite yet slightly distant smile befitting her status, though deep within that smile was a trace of stiffness that was hard to detect.
"I'm fine, Sonoko, just a bit tired." She gently patted her daughter's hand, her gaze sweeping over Kanjuro as if naturally, saying in a tone she tried to make sound ordinary: "Sonoko, when did you get to know such a... handsome friend? You didn't even tell Mom in advance." She deliberately used the vague term "friend."
Sonoko, completely unaware of the tempest beneath her mother's calm exterior, continued excitedly: "I just met him today! He's Ran's brother, Brother Kanjuro! Isn't he super handsome? And he's incredibly gentle and polite!"
(Ran's brother? Eri's son?)
Tomoko Suzuki's heart jolted again. Eri... that equally outstanding woman who had also appeared at the nightmarish ritual site eighteen years ago! So that's it... No wonder that child Ran... She's also Kanjuro's... In an instant, she seemed to understand some of Eri's choices over the years. A bitter sense of shared suffering quietly spread, but more than that was a fear that her own secret might be exposed.
Her expression remained unchanged; she merely nodded slightly, saying to Kanjuro: "So you're Eri the Lawyer's child. Welcome to our home, Mr. Kanjuro." Her tone maintained the politeness expected of an elder, betraying little emotion. "Don't stand at the door; come in and sit."
She stepped aside to clear the way, gesturing for the two to enter. Just as Kanjuro stepped into the entryway, passing by her side, whether intentionally or not, his leg seemed to lightly brush against her stocking-clad calf.
The touch was extremely slight, yet it felt like a weak electric current instantly coursing through Tomoko Suzuki's entire body! Already unsettled, this sudden contact made her legs go weak. A low gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled uncontrollably to the side.
"Careful."
Kanjuro's reaction was astonishingly fast. Almost simultaneously, a warm, strong hand had already steadied her arm, while another hand appropriately supported her waist, preventing her fall. The distance between them closed instantly. The crisp, faintly nostalgic, almost memory-triggering unique scent of Kanjuro enveloped her without obstruction.
"!" Tomoko Suzuki froze completely. The clear warmth from her touched arm and waist, the familiar yet unfamiliar masculine scent washing over her, made her heart skip a beat before pounding wildly. Fragments of those chaotic, ambiguous, oppressive scenes from eighteen years ago flashed uncontrollably through her mind. Her cheeks flushed uncontrollably, rapidly spreading to her ears, even her neck turning slightly pink. She felt her body temperature rising, her breathing becoming somewhat labored.
"Mom! Are you okay?" Sonoko was startled and hurried forward.
Tomoko Suzuki snapped back to reality as if scalded, instinctively trying to break free from Kanjuro's support, but her body felt weak, her movements somewhat feeble. "N-no... I just tripped." Her voice carried a barely perceptible tremor.
Sonoko looked at her mother's flushed cheeks and slightly flustered expression, then at the exceptionally handsome Kanjuro who had acted so promptly, and suddenly giggled. With the mischievous innocence unique to a young girl, she blurted out teasingly:
"Mom~ your face is so red! You haven't taken a fancy to Brother Kanjuro too, have you? Oh my, though Brother Kanjuro is super handsome indeed, I never expected he'd be a 'cougar killer'! Even you can't resist his charm?"
Sonoko's words were like a needle, precisely puncturing Tomoko Suzuki's barely maintained composure. Her face flushed even redder, this time with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She glared at her daughter, scolding in a low voice: "Sonoko! What nonsense! No respect!" Yet her tone lacked conviction due to her guilt.
Kanjuro timely released his hold, stepping back half a pace, resuming his polite demeanor as if everything just now had merely been a gentlemanly act of accidental assistance. A harmless, apologetic smile graced his face, but his eyes deeply swept over Tomoko Suzuki's still-flushed face, taking in her loss of composure.
"Mrs. Suzuki, I'm glad you're alright." He said softly, his tone gentle, betraying nothing unusual.
Yet, these calm words rang alarm bells in Tomoko Suzuki's heart. This seemingly youthful "monster" had reappeared, not only disrupting her daughter's life but also effortlessly tearing open the scars and secrets she had buried for eighteen years. Tonight was destined not to be peaceful.
Just as the atmosphere in the entryway grew subtle, light footsteps sounded from the attic stairs. A gentle voice followed: "Sonoko, did you bring a friend home? I could hear the commotion from upstairs."
Everyone looked up to see a young woman with some resemblance to Sonoko but with a calmer, more gentle and beautiful demeanor descending the stairs slowly. She wore simple home clothes, her long hair loosely tied up, a soft smile on her face, her gaze clear—this was the eldest daughter of the Suzuki Family, Suzuki Ayako.
When Kanjuro's gaze fell on Ayako's face, he almost imperceptibly faltered for a moment. There was an indescribable, very subtle charm in Ayako's features, especially the slight curve of her lips when she smiled, which gave him a strange, faint sense of familiarity, as if seeing a softened reflection in a mirror. This subtle resemblance, stemming from bloodlines yet not even clearly realized by himself, made him momentarily dazed.
Seeing Ayako appear, Tomoko Suzuki's heart tightened again. She hurriedly forced herself to calm down, trying to take control of the situation: "Ayako's here too. Perfect, Mr. Kanjuro is Sonoko's friend, visiting our home for the first time. Since we've all met, let's have dinner together." She tried to make her tone sound natural, as if entertaining any ordinary classmate of her daughter's.
Kanjuro withdrew his gaze, complying gracefully with a slight bow: "Then I'll be intruding."
Ayako approached, curiously sizing up Kanjuro, a flicker of appreciation in her eyes. She smiled gently, her tone carrying a sisterly tease as she looked at Sonoko: "So this is the one Sonoko often mentions...? He's truly handsome. Is he our Sonoko's boyfriend?"
"Sis!" Sonoko instantly turned bright red, shyly stomping her foot, quickly waving her hands in denial, "No! I said he's a friend! At least... not yet!" Her whispered supplement revealed the young girl's feelings.
Hearing this, Kanjuro smiled gently, his gaze sweeping over Sonoko, his tone honest yet maintaining appropriate distance: "Sonoko is a very lively and lovely girl. However, we are indeed just ordinary friends for now." His response was Appropriate, neither embarrassing Sonoko nor overstepping boundaries.
Yet, the next moment, he turned his gaze toward Tomoko Suzuki, who was trying to lower her presence. His eyes deepened, carrying a hint of inquiry and a seemingly penetrating playfulness, as he slowly spoke:
"Rather, Mrs. Suzuki..." He paused, successfully drawing everyone's attention, including the somewhat startled Ayako and the curious Sonoko, "for some reason, I feel as if we've met somewhere before? It gives a... very familiar feeling."
"Clatter—!"
As soon as Kanjuro finished speaking, Tomoko Suzuki, like a startled bird, trembled violently. The Exquisite porcelain coffee cup she had just picked up to steady her nerves, along with half a cup of scalding coffee, fell onto the carpet with a dull thud, brown stains It spread rapidly.
"Mom!" "Madam!"
Ayako and Sonoko exclaimed simultaneously.
Tomoko Suzuki's face turned pale, her chest heaving severe. She sharply looked up at Kanjuro, her eyes filled with fear and a trace of cornered anger. Almost through gritted teeth, she said in an icy tone, Decisive:
"Mr. Kanjuro must be joking! We're meeting for the first time today; we're not familiar at all!"
She tried to build a defense with a tough attitude.
Kanjuro seemed Unsurprisingly by her Loss of composure and denial, his face still wearing that impeccable, slightly apologetic gentle smile. "I was presumptuous; I apologize for startling you, Madam." As he spoke, he extremely naturally pulled out a few tissues and, without waiting for the The maid stepped forward, bent down to personally wipe the coffee stains Splash on Tomoko Suzuki's skirt.
His actions appeared Incredibly gentlemanly, Impeccable. Yet, just as he bent close, his head almost level with the seated Tomoko Suzuki, at an angle Difficult to capture by others, he leaned close to her ear. In a low, magnetic voice only the two could hear, like a demon's whisper, he softly uttered:
"Actually, I remember you, Tomoko..."
His warm breath brushed her sensitive auricle, making Tomoko Suzuki tremble violently as if struck by lightning.
"...After all these years, I still remember that... slutty vibe of yours."
These words, like the sharpest ice pick, instantly pierced through all of Tomoko Suzuki's camouflage and strong! Her eyes widened incredible as she looked at Kanjuro so close. That flawlessly handsome face still wore a gentle smile, but in those Profound eyes, her own instantly pale, Terrified face was clearly reflected.
Eighteen years of time, A meticulously constructed fortress, crumbled boom in this Whispering. The coffee stain on the carpet was like her Chaotic state of mind now—dirty and Dazzling.The maid hurriedly stepped forward to clean up.; Ayako and Sonoko looked Concern at their pale, rapid breathing mother.
"Mom, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?" Ayako asked soft voice, Step forward and help Tomoko Suzuki's trembling slightly arm.
Tomoko Suzuki Suddenly closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and when she opened them again, those once shrewd and sharp eyes Forcibly suppressing the raging waves, leaving only a An almost numb calm. She pushed away Ayako's hand, Try to straighten your back as if the Loss of composure had never happened. She even forced a smile, giving Kanjuro a It can be called"gentle" yet utterly cold smile.
"It's nothing; I just slipped." Her voice was somewhat hoarse, but she Deliberately slow down your speaking speed, appearing much calmer. "Mr. Kanjuro, I apologize for the spectacle. Dinner is ready; please take your seats first. Sonoko, Ayako, accompany Mr. Kanjuro to the dining room. I... I'll go change clothes and be right there."
She had to leave here, immediately, right now! She needed space to digest this The impact was enough to destroy everything she had..
Kanjuro complied gracefully, as if that demon's whisper had merely been an illusion. He nodded polite: "Alright, Mrs. Suzuki, as you wish."
Under her daughters'Concern and Kanjuro's Unfathomable gaze, Tomoko Suzuki maintained her final Decent, walking with a slightly stiff yet quick pace toward her bedroom. Once inside that private space, locking the door behind her, all her strength seemed instantly drained. Leaning against the cold door panel, her body slid down powerless, panting heavily like a fish out of water.
Her heart pounded crazy, almost shattering her sternum. She Struggling to climb to the front of the dressing table, Gripping the edge of the table tightly with both hands, Look up at yourself in the mirror—that shrewd and capable, Managing a vast family business Tomoko Suzuki in others' eyes.
The woman in the mirror was pale, unfocused eyes, filled with fear and a kind of...despair of being seen through completely.
(He's back... he's really back... that demon...)
(Why... why must he appear before me again?!)
Eighteen years! She had used every means to bury that past, molding herself into an icy, aloof noblewoman who kept men at a distance. Her husband Shiro Suzuki's long absences Just what she wanted. She had long lost interest in any man, becoming a A true sexually frigid person. She thought her heart had long withered, her body like stagnant water.
But just now, when Kanjuro approached with that familiar scent, that low voice, and those eyes that seemed capable of igniting the embers deep within her soul... her body, which had lain dormant for eighteen years, uncontrollably trembled and showed signs of... awakening! This filled her with immense shame and fear!
(Except for him... indeed, only him...)
This realization plunged her into deeper despair. She gazed at the woman in the mirror who appeared strong but was actually fragile, murmuring to herself in a broken voice:
"Why... must you reappear... I worked so hard... so hard to attain everything I have now..."
She possessed enviable wealth and status, firmly controlled the Suzuki Conglomerate, and was the mother of two outstanding daughters. All this glamorous facade was built upon the foundation of a dirty secret being completely buried.
(If... if he publicly announces... reveals the truth from eighteen years ago... discloses Sonoko and Ayako's origins...)
(No... absolutely not!)
A flicker of madness flashed in Tomoko Suzuki's eyes. Everything she now possessed—her social standing, her daughters' futures—would crumble and vanish because of Kanjuro's appearance! She would fall from the clouds, becoming the laughingstock of high society, and the Suzuki Conglomerate might plunge into turmoil!
(What should I do? Kill him? No... he's not human at all...)
(Appease him? Satisfy him? Use wealth and power to buy his silence?)
Countless thoughts collided wildly in her mind. Fear, anger, humiliation, and a trace of primitive desire forcibly awakened—which she vehemently resisted—intertwined, nearly tearing her apart.
She abruptly covered her face with both hands, her nails almost digging into her flesh, her body trembling from intense emotional turmoil. In the mirror, a woman on the verge of collapse was reflected, caught between power and desire, past and present.
After a long while, she slowly lowered her hands, looking at the version of herself in the mirror whose eyes gradually turned cold and resolute. She took out a compact, carefully concealing the tear stains and pallor on her face, and reapplied bright lipstick. She had to return, had to steady him. At least until she found a countermeasure, she couldn't let him see her complete panic, nor reveal anything in front of her daughters.
She tidied her appearance, took a deep breath, straightened her back with effort, and opened the door. On her face, she wore the impeccable social mask of the Suzuki matriarch. Yet beneath that mask was a heart that had already plunged into an ice cellar and was frantically calculating gains, losses, and survival. Dinner would be a war without gunpowder.
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