Haruna's scoff was a whipcrack, sharp enough to draw blood. "Hmph… Pathetic." Her dark eyes raked over me, slow and deliberate, like she was measuring me for a coffin. Then she shook her head, a single, dismissive jerk of her chin. "Even daring to think about my sister…"
She moved closer—not enough to touch, but close enough that I could smell her: jasmine and something darker, like burnt sugar. The kind of scent that clung to skin after a night of sin. Her fingers tapped against her arm, restless, betraying the storm beneath her cold composure. The air between us thickened, heavy with the kind of silence that comes before a blade finds its mark.
"Honestly?" Her voice was a velvet blade, slicing through the tension. "Sister Yuko's never shown interest in dating. Not once." A pause. A smirk.
"Doesn't go on dates. Doesn't talk about relationships. Doesn't even look at men, I guess she doesn't like men—" Her gaze flicked to me, then away, too fast. "I think my sister is a Lesbian."
