He moved through the entrance with Iori at his side, and the estate opened around him in layers. Each one distinct. Each one a piece of cultural architecture that the blood's clarity allowed him to read all at once.
By now the sky outside had deepened into full night, the estate's grand windows reflecting pools of warm light against the darkness. Attendants glided silently through the crowd with silver trays laden with crystal goblets of refined blood-wine: the engineered, contraceptive vintage that flowed so abundantly tonight only because the Oni hosted the event, a quiet flex of reclaimed power and wealth.
