The marble floor remained eerily silent beneath her weight as she moved, her footsteps soundless against its polished surface. Hime froze, a silent curse dancing on her tongue as she pressed her back deeper into the shadows. The vast expanse of the mansion sprawled before her, its marble floors gleaming under the faint silver of moonlight filtering through high windows. Her dark coat melded seamlessly with the obsidian décor, each step calculated, each breath measured with the precision of a heartbeat.
The faint hum of electricity coursing through the walls accompanied her as she moved. Somewhere distant, the muffled shuffle of a guard's footsteps carried softly through the stillness. Hime's senses were honed, her focus unrelenting. She had been coming here for weeks, slipping past guards and breaching encrypted security systems. Each time, she ventured deeper, closer to the truth about the elusive man who ruled the underworld of Kyouten with the reach of an emperor's hand. The rumors spoke of Kazuki, a name whispered in both fear and reverence.
A ghost.
A king.
And tonight, she would finally see him for herself.
Her gloved hand brushed the edge of a door, its carved frame cool to the touch. She eased it open, her eyes narrowing. Information was her currency, secrets her trade. She never set foot in the field unless it was personal. And Kazuki—his very existence was a puzzle that had hooked into her curiosity.
But the moment she stepped inside, she felt it.
A shift in the air.
The door slammed shut behind her with a force that vibrated through her bones.
Hime spun, her pulse surging—but it was already too late. A hand gripped her wrist like a vice, twisting her with relentless strength. Another hand pressed flat against her shoulder, pinning her back against the cold, unforgiving wall. The collision stole her breath, and for the first time, she felt real danger wrap around her like a snare.
"You've been quite the visitor," a voice drawled. Deep. Smooth as black silk. "But you've overstayed your welcome."
Her gaze snapped upward—and there he was.
Kazuki.
The rumors hadn't done him justice. Shadows clung to his sharp features, the high arch of his cheekbones, the dangerous curve of his lips. His dark eyes burned with something more potent than mere amusement, a heat that felt like gravity itself. His grip was unyielding, a promise of control that would not be broken.
"Let go," Hime hissed, twisting against his hold.
His smile widened, a slow, predatory thing. "Is that how you thank a man for catching you?"
"I didn't ask to be caught."
"You didn't need to. I've been watching you for days."
Her heart skipped a beat. "What?"
He leaned in, the warmth of his breath grazing her ear. "You thought you were hunting me?" His words were a blade dipped in honey. "I've been waiting for you to tire yourself out. Amusing, really. You made it farther than most. But you should know something about me."
She clenched her jaw, refusing to flinch. "And what's that?"
His smile faded, and his eyes darkened with the weight of finality. "No one plays games in my house. And no one leaves without my permission."
At that, the door behind him opened, and two men stepped into view.
Ivan and Petrov—names spoken with the same reverence as death itself.
"Boss?" Ivan asked, his thick voice heavy with Russian inflection. "Shall we dispose of her?"
Hime's pulse raced.
Kazuki didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her, his hand still pressing her into the wall, the distance between them a whisper of defiance and unspoken challenge.
"No," he murmured. "She's not a trespasser."
Ivan raised an eyebrow. "She's not?"
Kazuki's eyes held hers, dark and unreadable. "She's my guest."