Did he raise his voice?
Did he sit in silence while others shook around him?
My palms tingled, and I caught myself holding my breath. I didn’t even know what I wanted—to open the door or run from it. All I knew was, if the writing room had been a gift. . .this place was a dangerous secret.
Sako kept walking and then guided us upstairs.
I waited until we’d climbed the first flight of stairs, before I finally asked, “Have you worked for Kenji a long time?”
Sako gave a faint smile. “Yes. As soon as I was old enough to walk.”
“What? You started as a kid?”
“Yes. We basically grew up together. My father was his father’s butler. I grew up in service—polishing the Dragon’s shoes and folding napkins before I knew how to ride a bike.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I used to bring Kenji tea when he was a boy. I cleaned all of his stuffed animals too.”
My eyebrows rose. “Kenji had stuffed animals?”
“His mother called them the snuggle bunch. Lots of rabbits, wolves, a dragon of course, lions, tigers.”
“No bears?”
“Only a koala bear.”
I chuckled.
“As a kid he never understood that I couldn’t play with him. Kenji would always make me sit and play with him whenever his father wasn’t watching.”
“Would you get in trouble?”
“No. His mother andmyfather always smiled and watched us.”
“And so. . .you continued to work for Kenji in his adult years?”
Sako’s expression softened. “Later, when he went abroad and played professional football, he asked his father if he could bring me along.”
My smile grew wider. “Wait, really? You were with him during his athlete phase?”
“I was.”
“Did you enjoy that?”
He actually chuckled. “It was an incredible amount of fun. The games. The shopping. The parties. The cities. He barely needed me to do anything back then, and he forced me to wear different suits not the proper uniform. Secretly. . .I think he just wanted me to. . .”
“To what?”
“To have fun.” Sako cleared his throat. “Anyway. . .when he later took over the empire, my job shifted to something more. . .serious.”
He paused at the next door but didn’t open it. Instead, he looked at me with a glint of dry amusement. “Hiro calls me the Monk of the Mansion.”
“Do you think that fits?”
“I suppose it does, although monks usually don’t keep Glocks next to their nightstand.”
Alright, Sako. So you stay ready for war too.
