I wanted to show him I wasn’t buying into this whole “guest” act. Not after what he’d tried to do to me. But then my stomach growled. I was starving. With no dignity left to defend, I headed over to the table anyway.
I picked and nibbled, wondering how everyone could laugh and smile while knowing what really went on here.
“Miki, I’d like to introduce you to my dancers,” Ginji said.
I swallowed fast so I could put on a fake smile.
The three of them stood behind him, identical in a way that felt rehearsed. White teeth flashing, flawless skin glowing under the skybox lights. Their hair was sleek and styled to perfection, all the same coffee color that was so fashionable—one with blunt bangs, one with a high ponytail, one with a sharp bob. Their outfits were little more than sequined scraps: tiny tops, tight shorts, long legs on display. Their sole purpose was to make Ginji shine.
“These are Jun, Yuki, and Emi.”
They waved and sang out a perfectly harmonized hi before slipping away, leaving Ginji and me alone.
“They follow you everywhere you go?” I asked.
“Only during the festival. We’re performing later.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you were serious.”
“Of course. It’s a tradition I started years ago. I enjoy it, and now my guests expect a show every year.”
He sounded proud, like this was just another music festival. But I’d seen behind the curtain. The host, the J-pop star, the doting brother—it was all part of the act. Underneath, he was no different from Reina. Maybe worse.
He smiled and then plucked the plate from my hands, setting it on the table.
“Come with me. I want to show you something I’m really proud of. It’s my baby.”
Ginji led me out of the skybox overlooking the festival grounds, and a moment later we stepped onto the second tier inside the arena.
I froze.
The place was massive—much more impressive up close. Row after row of concrete seating dropped toward a vast floor of pale sand raked into neat lines. The walls rose high around it, arched in shadow and lined with mounted lights waiting to burn.
My hand slid along the railing as I stepped forward, craning my neck to take it all in. The upper tiers were capped with flapping tents, canvas snapping in the breeze. Everything seemed to draw the eye toward the sandpit at the center.
I stood there, staring, captivated not by awe or wonder but by dread. This was an arena built for blood.
Oh God—Akiko. If she wasn’t here with me…
I spun toward him. “You can’t be serious. Where is Akiko?”
“She’s fine. She’s being readied.”
Readied. The word curdled in my gut.
“You bastard!” I lunged, swinging a fist, but he caught it like I was nothing. His other hand cracked across my face, sending me down. Pain lit my cheek.
“You should worry less about your friend and more about yourself,” he said, low and sharp. “Guests aren’t above the law here. You’ll respect me, or you’ll remember your place the hard way.”
Two Chopmen appeared and yanked me up by the arms.
“Take her back to her room. Make sure she stays there.”
I stumbled between them, cheek throbbing, mind snapping into focus. Ginji wasn’t playing host anymore. He was showing his true face. If this was how he treated me, I could only imagine what Akiko was facing. I needed to find a way out—for both of us.
38
Akiko
