He had been free then.
I had been free then.
Neither of us was the same now.
Haru’s expression was carefully neutral, but his eyes—there wassomethingin his eyes. Recognition, yes, but also something else, something I couldn’t name.
Pity? Sorrow? Determination?
I couldn’t tell.
Neither he nor Esumi leered over my near-nakedness. Neither stared wantonly or reached to touch what they’d just purchased. In fact, neither took another step toward the stage. They simply turned toward the mistress to settle their business, as though I no longer stood on a stage in the thinnest imaginable fabric for all to see.
Momoko descended and approached the Prince. They spoke in low tones. Money changed hands—a heavy purse, a fortune, given freely for one night.
For me.
Esumi watched me as Haru paid his bill. His gaze was steady and assessing but not cruel, not hungry like the others. He looked to be . . . considering.
Finally, Momoko returned to the stage as Haru and Esumi were led away by a nearby courtesan. “Kaneko,” she said quietly. “You will go with the Prince and his companion now. They have been shown to the Iris chamber. Hana will guide you.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, then descended on shaking legs. Retrieving the sailor’s coat, I pulled it on, grateful to cover myself again even briefly.
Hana appeared at my side and took my arm. “Come,” she whispered.
A thousand questions followed me down the corridor like shadows. My palms were slick with sweat. In moments, I would enter the Iris chamber, would face whatever waited there, would give myself to Haru and Esumi, for whatever they desired. And nothing—no amount of training, no practiced masks, no carefully constructed lies—could have prepared me for what came next.
The door loomed ahead.
Hana stopped and squeezed my hand once. “Be brave,” she whispered.
Then she slid the door open and gently pushed me inside.
The door closed behind me with a soft click.
And I was alone with them.
Chapter 23
Kaneko
The Iris chamber was beautiful, with delicate screens painted with purple flowers. A low bed draped in crimson silk held court at its center as lanterns cast a warm, golden light, and burning incense filled the space with a floral scent meant to bring peace, but did little to calm my fraying nerves.
Haru lounged on the bed, propped against cushions. Esumi stood to the side, one hand resting on his lover’s shoulder. Neither had fully removed their clothing, though Haru’skimononow lay open, revealing much of his muscled chest and lean torso.
Neither moved toward me. Neither rose. They simply stared.
I stood just inside the door, frozen.
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
My training screamed for me to move, to speak, to begin my performance, but my body refused to obey.
Seconds became minutes.
Still no one spoke.
Esumi’s eyes traveled over me, assessing, the way one might examine a horse at market or a weapon before purchase. His expression revealed nothing—showed neither desire nor disgust—simply cold evaluation.
