6:30 PM.
“Young Lady, Miss Shirase, dinner is ready.”
Rinna opens her eyes. She doesn’t know when she fell asleep. Outside the window, the sky has turned from warm orange to deep blue.
Light from the stone lanterns in the garden seeps through the gaps in the sliding door paper, painting thin lines of light on the tatami.
Hisaki sits up from behind her. Her black hair slides off her shoulder, the ends brushing Rinna’s cheek, ticklish. Rinna pushes herself up from the futon, rubbing her eyes.
The collar of her winter uniform is a bit askew, revealing a sliver of pale neck and collarbone. She reaches up and adjusts it, pulling the collar back together.
“Let’s go.” Hisaki stands up and extends her hand to Rinna. Rinna places her hand in Hisaki’s, and Hisaki holds it firmly.
The two leave the room and walk back along the path they came from.
The Hei Luan Residence at night is completely different from during the day.
All the stone lanterns are lit, warm yellow light scattered in clusters throughout the garden, as if someone had plucked stars and carefully placed them among the rocks and pine trees.
The wooden floor of the corridor creaks softly underfoot. In the garden outside, the white sand is bathed in a hazy silver-white from the moonlight, and the shadows cast by the stones are thick and black, like ink stains on white paper.
All the sliding doors of the Guest Reception Main Building are wide open. The light inside spills out like water, dyeing the entire corridor warm yellow. Rinna follows Hisaki inside and pauses at the entrance.
She has been to this room many times. But every time she enters, she feels the same aura pressing down on her breath.
The Guest Reception Main Building is a huge Japanese-style room, probably over forty tatami mats in size. Deep blue tatami covers the entire floor, giving off a warm luster under the light.
In the center of the room is a long low table placed horizontally, made of dark wood.
The tabletop has been polished smooth as a mirror by time, reflecting the large Japanese paper hanging lamp on the ceiling. That is the head of the family’s seat—where Hisaki’s father, Heilai Yusi, sits.
The table is already set with tableware: black lacquer bowls, chopstick rests made of dark gray stone, and the ends of the chopsticks carved with the Hei Luan family crest.
Everything is simple, restrained, with nothing extraneous, yet each item has a heavy weight, a presence that needs no explanation.
On the left and right sides of the main table are two rows of long low tables placed vertically, extending far out like the spread wings of a giant bird.
The left side is for direct family members—the wife, legitimate children, close relatives. The right side is for the highest-ranking officers of the organization—the Underboss, Junior Boss, Elders, Advisors.
In this Large Tatami Room, not everyone has arrived yet, but Rinna can already feel the subtle sense of order in the air. The arrangement of each table and each seat seems to be silently proclaiming a power map.
The first seat on the left is Hisaki’s. Rinna follows behind Hisaki and sits cross-legged in the seat next to her. This seat is very close to the main table—close enough to clearly see the expression on Heilai Yusi’s face.
Of course, Heilai Yusi’s face usually has no expression. But Rinna knows that the distance of this seat is itself a silent declaration.
She, Rinna, on the Kurose Clan’s dining table, sits in a direct family member’s seat. And not just any seat—it’s next to the eldest daughter, Hisaki.
Rinna sits cross-legged on the cushion. She steals a glance around. On the left row, besides her and Hisaki, there are several middle-aged women she doesn’t recognize, probably Hisaki’s aunts.
There’s also a man who looks about thirty, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a gentle and refined demeanor.
Rinna remembers Hisaki mentioning he is her cousin and the president of a subsidiary company of the family.
The looks these people give Rinna vary—some friendly, some appraising, some just a glance before looking away. But no one objects to her sitting here. Because everyone knows.
They know what this white-haired girl means to the young lady, Hisaki. They know that offending Rinna is equivalent to offending Hisaki, and offending Hisaki means… well, it’s simply not a wise choice.
The people on the right row take their seats one after another. All men, ranging in age from their thirties to sixties. Some wear suits, some wear kimono.
One elderly man wears dark gray pleated trousers, his hair completely white, tied in a small bun at the back of his head. His face is full of wrinkles, but his back is straight as a ramrod.
Even the angle at which he bends his knees when sitting looks as if it has been measured with a ruler. Rinna knows from Hisaki that this is one of the most senior Elders of the Kurose Clan, having served since Hisaki’s grandfather’s generation.
Although he no longer directly manages affairs, his status within the organization remains extremely high.
There is also a middle-aged man who looks about forty-something, wearing a black suit with a perfectly tied tie. His hair is cut very short, showing a thin layer of stubble on his scalp. His eyes are sharp.
After sitting down, his first glance is at the main table, and his second is at Hisaki. It’s not a disrespectful stare, but a professional habit of “confirming the successor’s state.”
Rinna guesses that this man is probably the Underboss of the Kurose Clan. Heilai Yusi’s right-hand man, the second-in-command, above ten thousand but below one.
Rinna’s gaze quickly sweeps over these people, and she has only one thought in her mind.
‘In her past life, she was just an ordinary office worker, and now she’s in a place full of these big shots. This world is really crazy.’
Next to the main seat, there’s still an empty seat—that’s the seat of Hisaki’s younger brother, Hei Lai Qi. But this kid is clearly late again. Rinna turns her head and sneakily glances at Hisaki.
Hisaki is sitting properly on the cushion, her back straight, hands on her knees. Her long black hair falls from her shoulders, the ends resting on the deep blue tatami.
Her profile is distinct under the light, her jawline as clean as if drawn with a single stroke. She isn’t looking at anyone; her gaze is straight ahead, quiet and still, like a porcelain figure enshrined in a shrine.
But Rinna notices that Hisaki’s right index finger taps lightly on her knee. Just one tap. That is a small fidget Hisaki only does when waiting for someone… Her younger brother hasn’t arrived yet, so she’s a bit concerned.
Rinna looks away.
***
The sliding door of the main seat is opened. Everyone’s body tenses slightly at the same moment, as if pulled by the same invisible string.
Heilai Yusi walks in. He isn’t wearing a kimono; he wears a dark gray suit, extremely well-tailored, with sharp shoulders and straight pant creases. The collar of his white shirt is buttoned neatly, without a tie.
His hair is gray-white, combed back neatly, revealing a sharply defined face. His eyebrows are thick, his brow ridge prominent, his eye sockets deep.
His eyes are a very deep black, and when he looks at someone, it’s like he’s weighing something on a scale. Weigh, judge, then make a decision.
Nasolabial folds extend from the sides of his nose, deep and long, as if carved by two knife strokes. He is tall and lean.
His steps are unhurried, each one steady, so steady that it gives the illusion that the floor is paving the way for him.
The entire Large Tatami Room goes silent the moment he steps in.
Like a group of animals that automatically hold their breath, lower their bodies, and focus all their attention in the same direction upon sensing the approach of an apex predator.
Heilai Yusi sits down at the main seat, moving unhurriedly. After settling in, his gaze sweeps from left to right, across every face, and finally pauses on Rinna for a moment.
Really just a moment, so brief that Rinna almost thinks it’s her imagination. Then he nods slightly, so subtly it’s almost invisible. Rinna subconsciously nods back.
The corner of Heilai Yusi’s mouth twitches. It’s not a smile. Probably some kind of muscle reflex meaning “This girl is still so nervous.”
Then he speaks.
“Start eating.”
Two words. His voice isn’t loud, but every word falls clearly into the ears of everyone present. No unnecessary pleasantries, no transition like “Good work, everyone.” Just “Start eating.”
Rinna sometimes feels that the way Heilai Yusi talks is the same style as his house. Big, deep, cold—no need for anything extra to prove itself.
As soon as the words fall, servants file in silently from the passages on both sides, their trays laden with various dishes.
Lacquer bowls and plates are gently placed on each low table. The movements are uniform, and even the soft sound of the bowl bottoms touching the tabletop is almost synchronized.
Rinna looks down at what’s in front of her. A small bowl of miso soup, with a few thin slices of green onion and a small piece of tofu floating on the surface.
A dish of nimono—simmered radish and shirataki noodles, the broth reduced to a thick amber color. A dish of pickles, brightly colored vegetables arranged in a small fan shape.
And a bowl of white rice, the grains glistening and steaming. Simple, refined, nothing superfluous.
Rinna picks up her chopsticks. Just as she’s about to pick up a piece of radish, another pair of chopsticks reaches over from beside her.
Hisaki picks up a piece of grilled eel and brings it to Rinna’s lips. The eel is grilled to a light golden brown, glazed with a shiny sauce that glimmers amber under the light. The edges curl up into a small crispy skin.
The sweet-savory scent of soy sauce and sugar mixed together wafts into Rinna’s nose. Rinna turns her head and sees Hisaki leaning sideways, one hand cupped under the chopsticks to prevent dripping sauce, the other hand resting on the tatami.
Her upper body leans forward slightly, and her long black hair slides off her shoulder, the ends falling on Rinna’s knee. Those dark brown eyes are looking at her, filled with the scattered light from the ceiling lamp.
Rinna opens her mouth. Hisaki gently places the eel into her mouth. The chopsticks touch Rinna’s lips, cool and with a faint woody scent.
The eel’s flesh is soft and sticky, the sweet-savory sauce melting on her tongue, blending with the lingering taste of rice. Rinna chews a couple of times, her cheeks puffing up slightly.
Hisaki watches her, very pleased. Then she pulls back the chopsticks and naturally licks the tip of the chopsticks.
Rinna lowers her head to drink the soup. The miso soup is very hot, so hot it numbs her tongue.
“Dad.”
Hisaki’s voice rings out. Rinna looks up from the rim of her bowl and sees Hisaki has turned around, sitting upright facing the main seat.
“About that—the doctor I mentioned to you, to help Rinna—have you heard anything?”