At 8:30 p.m. the next day, Sakura had already changed into that special black dress. This uniform was more solemn than her daily maid outfit, with a more tailored cut that brought out a touch of mature charm in her. She practiced smiling in the mirror a few times, making sure she looked both professional and endearing.
"Sakura, the guests are here," Yumi reminded softly outside the door.
Sakura took a deep breath, straightened her back, and walked toward the designated private room. Before pushing the door, she habitually adjusted her skirt, then put on her sweetest smile and slid the door open.
"Master, welcome ba—"
Her greeting came to an abrupt stop. There were three men sitting in the private room. The leader was a sturdy man around fifty, with a ferocious scar stretching from his eyebrow to his chin. Even in a well-tailored suit, he couldn't hide the dangerous aura he exuded.
"Is this the excellent new girl you mentioned?" The scarred man appraised Sakura, his voice low and hoarse.
"Yes, Captain Sato," Yumi replied respectfully. "Sakura is the best maid in our shop, with first-class service awareness and adaptability."
The man called Captain Sato gestured for Sakura to sit down: "I'm Ryuichi Sato, the captain of the Third Group of the Aokura-kai. Yumi says you're smart, so I'll cut to the chase—from today on, besides your work as a maid, you'll also be responsible for handling some... special matters for us."
Sakura's fingertips felt slightly cold, but her smile didn't waver at all: "May I ask what kind of work it is? I'll do my best."
Ryuichi Sato seemed satisfied with her composure: "First, remember you never saw us tonight. Second, every Wednesday night after the café closes, someone will deliver a black briefcase. You need to put it in the innermost cabinet of the storage room, and someone will come to pick it up the next morning. Don't ask what's inside, don't be curious—understand?"
"I understand, Mr. Sato," Sakura nodded obediently.
"Finally," Sato took a photo out of his pocket and pushed it to Sakura, "this man might come to the shop. If you see him, notify Yumi immediately."
The photo showed a sullen middle-aged man with eyes as sharp as a knife. Sakura carefully memorized his features, then handed the photo back: "I'll keep an eye out."
Ryuichi Sato suddenly reached out and捏住 Sakura's chin, not too hard but enough to keep her from breaking free. He leaned close to her face, so close that she could smell the faint scent of tobacco and whiskey on him.
"Little girl, I know what you're thinking," Sato's voice was low, "you think this is just a game, or an exciting part-time job. Let me tell you, it's not. Once you step into this world, there's no turning back. Now, I'll give you one last chance to choose—refuse, and leave Tokyo forever; or accept, but from then on, your life belongs to the Aokura-kai."
Sakura felt a shiver run down her spine, but strangely, beyond fear, she felt more... a strange sense of belonging. It was like finally finding where she was supposed to be.
She didn't look away, staring straight into Ryuichi Sato's eyes: "I choose to stay. A maid's duty is to serve loyally, isn't it?"
The private room was quiet for a few seconds, then Sato suddenly laughed and let go of her chin: "Good! Guts! Yumi, this kid has potential."
After that night, Sakura's life changed subtly. On the surface, she was still the most popular maid at "Sakura Tei," with a sweet smile and thoughtful service; but secretly, she began to get involved in the peripheral affairs of the Aokura-kai—passing messages, keeping an eye on specific guests, and occasionally helping "look after" some suspicious packages.
Three months later, on a rainy night, Sakura witnessed the cruel side of the yakuza world for the first time.
That night, she stayed behind as usual after closing to wait for a special package. The rain was heavy, and thunder rumbled. When there was a knock on the back door, Sakura thought it was the delivery person. But when she opened the door, she saw Ryuichi Sato covered in blood, holding an unconscious young man in his arms.
"Clean up the blood, don't let anyone know we're here," Sato's voice was hoarse from pain.
Sakura didn't scream or panic. She quickly locked the door, drew all the curtains, and then took out the first-aid kit: "Put him on the sofa, I'll stop the bleeding first."
Sato looked at the 20-year-old maid in surprise as she skillfully treated the wound and bandaged it, her movements neat and efficient, not at all like a novice.
"Have you studied medicine?"
"My father is a surgeon. I used to watch him operate when I was a kid," Sakura replied without looking up, her hands still moving. "This wound needs stitches, but I don't have the tools... This is the best I can do for now."
It wasn't until 3 a.m. that the injured man's vital signs stabilized. Ryuichi Sato sat in the corner, silently smoking a cigarette, watching Sakura's every move.
"You're not asking what happened?" he finally said.
Sakura was wiping the blood off the floor. She looked up when she heard this: "If you wanted to tell me, you would."
Sato suddenly smiled: "You know, Sakura, you remind me of myself when I was young—calm, smart, knowing when to keep quiet." He stood up and walked to Sakura, "Starting tomorrow, come to my office every Sunday night. I'll teach you some... useful skills myself."
And so, Sakura began her double training—maid etiquette and dessert making during the day, and fighting skills, intelligence gathering, and yakuza rules at night. She learned quickly, as if this knowledge had been buried in her heart, just waiting to be awakened.
Half a year later, one night, Sakura faced her real test.
"Sakura, you're coming with me to a place tonight," Ryuichi Sato said suddenly after training.
They drove to an abandoned warehouse in Tokyo's Minato Ward. Sakura followed Sato quietly, her heart racing but her expression calm. Deep in the warehouse, several tied-up men were kneeling on the ground, surrounded by members of the Aokura-kai.
"Traitors," Sato explained briefly. "They sold our transportation route to the 'Red Snake Group,' which led to last week's goods being intercepted and two brothers killed."
Sakura nodded and said nothing. She had learned to stay silent in such situations.
Sato handed Sakura a pistol: "Take care of the one on the far right. He's the leader of the mole."
The air in the warehouse seemed to freeze. Everyone looked at Sakura—the young girl in a maid outfit, who seemed out of place in this bloody world.
Sakura took the gun; it felt cold and heavy in her hand. She walked slowly toward the designated man, who looked up, his eyes full of fear and begging.
"Please... I have a family..." the man trembled.
Sakura looked at him, then suddenly smiled sweetly, just like she did to guests in the café: "Master, don't worry, it will be over soon."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed in the warehouse. A perfect hole appeared on the man's forehead, and he fell backward.
Ryuichi Sato nodded in satisfaction: "Good. From today on, you're officially a member of the Aokura-kai. Code name... let's call you 'Black Lace.'"
In the car on the way back, Sakura looked at the passing lights outside the window, feeling a distance from the sunny and cute maid image for the first time. The girl in the mirror still had a sweet appearance, but there was something indelible in the depths of her eyes.
"Regret it?" Sato asked.
Sakura turned her head and smiled perfectly: "Not at all, Captain. It's just... another form of service."