Anika had learned to fear silence in the Kurosawa mansion.
But what she felt tonight wasn't fear.
It was foreboding.
She stood in front of a tall mirror in a blood-red kimono with embroidered cranes. Her reflection looked like a stranger—beautiful, composed, and utterly trapped. Aiko tightened the obi belt around her waist like it was a noose.
"You will bow. Speak only when spoken to," Aiko instructed. "Do not mention your family. Do not ask questions. And above all—do not lie."
"Lie?" Anika frowned. "Why would I—?"
Aiko met her eyes in the mirror.
"Because she always knows."
The dining room tonight was far more lavish than before. Cherry blossoms floated in vases carved from obsidian. Sake cups shimmered like liquid moonlight. Servants stood like statues along the walls.
At the head of the table sat Rai.
And beside him, a woman in midnight blue.
Her hair was twisted into an intricate bun, held with silver chopsticks shaped like serpents. Her face was sharp. Ageless. Regal. Beautiful in a way that made Anika's skin crawl.
Rai rose as Anika entered.
"Mother," he said coldly, "this is Anika. My wife."
The woman didn't blink.
"Wife," she echoed, tasting the word like poison. "How quaint."
Anika bowed low, trying to calm her racing heart.
The woman's name was Shiori Kurosawa. Former matriarch of the Kurosawa-gumi. Whispers in the underworld called her the Widow in Silk. She'd slit a throat with the same grace she poured tea.
Dinner began.
Rai remained silent as the two women sat across from each other, a battlefield of porcelain and veiled insults between them.
"Do you speak Japanese, Anika-chan?" Shiori asked, sipping sake.
"Some," Anika replied politely.
"And yet my son chose you? A mute little flower girl from nowhere?" Her smile was blade-thin. "Strange taste. He always liked his pets obedient."
Anika stiffened.
Rai's hand twitched beneath the table.
"I didn't come here to be a pet," Anika said quietly.
Shiori arched a brow.
"Then you should not have come here at all."
Halfway through the meal, the games stopped.
Shiori leaned forward.
"You don't belong in this world, child. My son may be blinded—for now—but I am not."
"I didn't ask to be here," Anika snapped before she could stop herself.
A sharp breath from Rai.
Shiori smiled, too pleased.
"Ah. There she is. The girl with fire."
"I'm not afraid of you," Anika lied.
Shiori stood slowly, gliding around the table with the grace of a hunting cat. She leaned down, her lips near Anika's ear.
"Good," she whispered. "You'll need that fire… when this house burns you alive."
After she left, Rai spoke.
"You should not have challenged her."
"She insulted me."
"She's not like the others."
Anika looked at him.
"Neither am I."
He stared at her for a long, unreadable moment.
Then, to her shock… he smiled. Just barely.
"No," he murmured. "You're not."
That night, as she lay in her bed, Anika realized something chilling:
Rai Kurosawa may have been the king of the underworld…
…but his mother still ruled the shadows.
And now, the devil's bride had met the devil's queen.