The landscape rolled by, a mix of wild growth and manicured greenery. In daylight the island looked nothing like it had the night before. The cliffs I’d glimpsed in the dark were still there, but now I saw how they rose in a circle high above us. It felt like we were inside…
“Tell me we’re not in a volcano,” I said.
“Caldera, to be precise.”
Up ahead, more pathways branched off, lined with golf carts driven by uniformed staff ferrying passengers with luggage—couples, single men, even families.
“Are these people here for Nokoribi?” I asked.
“Yup. Today’s orientation day—when the crowds arrive.”
“Crowds? You mean more than a handful of people were convinced to come here?”
“You don’t believe me?”
He made a sharp right, sending me sliding across the seat into him, then gunned the cart up a pathway climbing the cliff.
Along the way, we passed carts heading down, packed with excited people—pointing, snapping selfies, laughing. They looked like vacationers, thrilled to be here. No one looked like they’d been forced to come.
At the top, the path opened into a small parking area where a registration table waited. People checked in, then climbed into carts that whisked them away. The place looked familiar—I’d been here the first night we arrived.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Ginji brought our cart to a stop and guided me to a railing that overlooked the ocean.
My breath caught. Two massive ferries were docked below, at the same pier where we’d come ashore in the fishing boat the night before. Beyond them, private yachts and sailboats dotted the horizon, all streaming toward the island.
“All of these people are here for Nokoribi? There must be hundreds.”
“Nearly a thousand,” Ginji said proudly. “Our biggest turnout yet.”
“But I don’t understand… what exactly are they here to see? This is a deserted island.”
Ginji took my hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
We crossed the parking lot to the opposite railing, this one facing inland. I stepped up beside him and gripped the rail—then my breath caught again.
Spread out before me was a sight I never could have imagined. The island wasn’t empty at all.
At the forefront, a lagoon shimmered below, a sheet of blue glass catching the sun. To the left, Ginji’s villa rose from its gardens like something out of a magazine spread. To the right, farther back, a hotel gleamed white against the cliffs, smaller villas scattered behind.
Beyond the lagoon, a village of tents and stalls spilled across an open square. The place was already alive—people milling between stalls, pointing, laughing, drifting in little clusters. From this distance, I could swear I heard music on the breeze—drums driving a beat under bright J-pop vocals.
And towering at the far end, dominating everything, was the centerpiece: a colossal arena. Its sweeping arches and tiered stonework made it look like a modern-day Roman coliseum dropped in the middle of the island.
Ginji leaned in. “Not bad for a deserted island, huh?”
I couldn’t stop staring. For a moment I forgot where I was—forgot why I was here. It was dazzling. Unreal.
And then the memory of last night slammed back, souring the view. A dream on the outside. A nightmare underneath.
36
I was at a loss for words. I’m not someone who’s easily surprised, but what Ginji had just shown me was something I never could’ve imagined existing on the same island Akiko and I were dragged to at knifepoint the night before.
From this high up on the cliffs, the details blurred. Nothing I saw screamed horror or kidnapping. No sinister island vibes. Just… spectacle. And that confused me even more.
Last night, Ginji told me he was Reina’s brother. But standing here now, he seemed nothing like the monster Akiko and Jiro had described.
Then I remembered his hand between my legs, his cock pressing against me. He might’ve been the gracious host by daylight, but I knew who he really was.
