For a moment the tension hung between them. Then Masaki let him go, and the other Chopman led Akiko away.
I stood helpless while she was pulled farther down the corridor. Her eyes clung to mine until distance and shadows swallowed her. The emptiness hit hard, colder than the air around me.
Masaki’s hand closed around my arm, firm.
“We can’t stay here much longer,” he said. “It isn’t safe for you.”
Masaki escorted me out of the underground, up to the arena level and out the rear where our cart was parked. I said nothing, lost in thoughts of Akiko. I replayed the feeling of her in my arms over and over, trying to convince myself she was okay.
Though I had my own demons to face, I couldn’t imagine what she was being forced to endure. It was clear now—she wasn’t staying in a mansion like me, but somewhere beneath the arena, locked away, maybe even sleeping on the dirt floor.
Masaki helped me into the cart, and we set off toward the mansion. The festival raged around us, music echoing and laughter spilling into the night. It all felt distant, muted, as if I were sealed off inside my own head.
I’d gotten to see Akiko. That should have been enough to carry me. But the farther we rode from the arena, the heavier the dread settled into my chest. Ginji would be waiting. Surely his anger from earlier hadn’t burned out, only been delayed.
I pressed my palms in my lap, holding on to the memory of Akiko’s face without the mask. Holding on because I knew once the mansion doors closed behind me, I would need that strength to get me through the night.
Masaki walked me up to my room. His presence was the same as always, quiet and unemotional, a Chopman doing his job. But once inside, he shut the door, grabbed a chair, and wedged the back under the doorknob. He gave it a sharp tug to show the door couldn’t be forced open.
For a moment he met my eyes. No words, no change in expression, but I felt it—he wanted me to know this wasn’t part of the job. This was for me.
Then he pulled the chair away, set it back where it belonged, and left in silence.
51
Haru
I pressed my face against the bars, the cool metal biting into my cheek. From here, if I angled just right, I could hear the faintest sounds from Akiko’s cell. She’d kept the others up half the night, gloating about her victories. Two in one night. And they’d lapped it up, every word. They raised her higher, worshipped her like she was a hero. A champion.
Fools.
They didn’t see it. They didn’t see the lies beneath her mask. But I did.
Her wins weren’t earned; they were bought with whispers. She had help—the kind that decides who lives and who dies. Her precious boyfriend sneaking in at all hours, slipping her secrets. I’d heard enough to know they talked about more than love: strategies and tips passed between them, providing the edge she needed to prevail.
And never once had he offered that to the rest of us. No. We were left to find our own way when our turn came, stumbling blind into Soemono.
Jiro didn’t care. Neither of them did. They were as cold as the knives they worshipped.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d conspired once before, torn down the Sakamotos to carve out their glory. They’d do it again—burn this place to the ground if it served them. Burn us with it.
I wouldn’t stand back and let it happen. Not this time.
If anyone deserved to suffer, it was her. She didn’t deserve freedom. She didn’t deserve her dreams. She didn’t deserve the cheers, the hope, the pedestal. And she sure as hell didn’t deserve another shot at Michelin-star fame.
I’d see her dragged down. I’d see her broken. I’d see her choke on the dirt before I let her walk among the Silver Spoons.
Not while I still drew breath.
I gripped the bars and let my eyes drift over the room. The others lay on their wooden platforms, sleeping soundly. Gullible, every one of them. They dreamed while I stayed awake, while I kept watch.
The door creaked open. No one stirred.
A Chopman entered, boots heavy on the stone, and came straight for my cell. The lock snapped open, and he jerked his chin. I stepped out, savoring the quiet.
As we passed, I glanced into Akiko’s cell. She lay on her side, sleeping as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Look at her. Resting easy while the rest of us live with dread in our guts. Not for long. We’ll see how well she sleeps after I’ve had my say.
