Nyomi
Hiro and I stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind us with a soft, final sound that made my shoulders tense.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and slid my thumb to activate the camera app. It just made sense to document everything.
Before I could move further in, Hiro gestured around the space. "Let me explain the layout so you understand what we're dealing with."
I nodded, grateful for the orientation.
"Three bedrooms." He pointed down a hallway to our right. "Each with its own ensuite bathroom. Yuki's is first, thenMami's, then Hina's at the end. They always choose the same order."
“Why?”
“In this world, everything is about hierarchy.”
“And Yuki tends to be in charge?”
“Correct.”
"Okay."
"This is the shared living room." He swept his hand toward the open space in front of us. "And through there—" he nodded toward an archway to our left, "—is a side dining room where they take their meals together."
"They don't eat with Kenji?"
"Not unless it’s a holiday. Back in Tokyo, my brother is typically never in his mansion. He’s usually in one of his club offices or in a hotel suite somewhere."
He left the rest of the explanation hanging in the air.
But I understood.
If Kenji was in a hotel suite, he was having sex with some woman. Or women. The Scales ate together because Kenji wasn't available to eat with them—wasn't interested in the domestic intimacy of shared meals.
They were close to him.
But not close enough.
I smirked. "Got it."
"Assess the living room first, before the bedrooms. You never know." Hiro stepped back, giving me space.
I lifted my phone and started documenting.
A faint sound echoed down the hallway—soft, almost nothing, like a footstep catching itself before it made noise.
What was that?
I froze, pulse tightening.
Hiro turned his head slightly. “Stay here.”
I nodded.
Hiro moved toward the hallway with that predatory glide that made no sound at all. I held my breath, listening hard, the suite suddenly feeling too large, too quiet, too full of shadows that didn’t belong to us.
A door clicked somewhere deeper inside the suite—the soft, unmistakable sound of metal settling into a frame.
