"There were two in that room," the other added.
Hiro pointed his knife at them without turning around. "The contest doesn't start until we start. Stop lobbying."
I said nothing. But I heard Kaede exhale slowly through his nose—the closest he ever got to a laugh.
Hiro kept his pace next to me. "You know what, brother? I think I like this mission."
"You like every mission."
"No. Some missions are work." He glanced back one more time at the glass rooms fading behind us. "This one feels like a win."
“Don’t celebrate yet. We don’t win, until we win.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Tunnels of Orgasms
Kenji
We moved deeper into the tunnels.
The bass and red light followed us. And behind us, the Fox's commanders kept fucking, not knowing that death was on its way back up an elevator to collect reinforcements—and that when it returned, it wouldn't knock.
Hiroko pointed to the left. "This way, so we can stay away from the communal areas."
We went in that direction.
The tunnels were a maze. Hallways branching off in every direction.
More glass rooms.
More naked humping bodies.
More red light.
The bass pounded through the walls and floor, and my pulse synced with it.
We turned left again.
Then right.
Hiroko led us through the chaos with certainty, and I realized she knew these tunnels better than anyone.
And I understood why my father had chosen this place.
Without Hiroko, we'd have been wandering blind through an endless labyrinth of glass and red light, turning corners into dead ends, getting funneled into choke points we couldn't see coming.
Every wrong turn would have eaten time we didn't have, and eventually someone would spot us—a guard, a camera, a courtesan who screamed at the wrong moment.
The Depths weren't just a hiding place. They were a fortress designed by confusion.
Any army that came down here without a map would be picked apart hallway by hallway.
My father hadn't just hidden underground. He'd buried himself inside a trap that only his enemies could fall into.
The only reason we were moving with purpose right now was the woman walking in front of me.
Without her, this mission was suicide.
