I watched the back of Hiroko's head as she turned another corner without hesitation.
She was the key to all of this. And my father had no idea we had her.
She stopped us at a door. “Okay. Now. . .there is no other choice but to go out into the customer sections.”
I stiffened.
“All I can do is. . .make sure we are in the places that are typically less frequented, but. . .” She sighed. “It’s been a few years since I’ve been down. Areas could have changed.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve already helped us out more than you could ever know.” I moved forward. “Get behind us, Hiroko.”
She stepped behind us, and Reo opened the door.
The difference was immediate.
The service corridors had been dim.
Quiet.
Forgotten.
Built for people who weren't supposed to be seen.
This was the opposite.
The hallway beyond was wider, the ceilings higher, the red light richer—not the flat industrial glow from before, but warm, lush, and intentional.
Designed to make people feel beautiful while they did ugly things.
The music was louder here too with the hypnotic bass layered beneath it.
And there were people.
Not behind glass walls this time.
Walking.
Talking.
Drinking.
Courtesans in silk red robes that hung open to reveal their breasts. Men in loosened black yukatas with flushed faces and glazed eyes.
No one had noticed us yet.
But they would.
We were a group of armed men in tactical gear walking through a pleasure district. We didn't belong here. Every second we were exposed, the odds of someone raising an alarm climbed.
I kept my guns low against my thighs — visible to my men, hidden from a casual glance.
The Claws did the same, weapons tucked close to their bodies.
Hiro slid his knife up his sleeve.
We moved fast.
Not running.
