Not falling asleep with clients was the first lesson Yuki learned from the person who taught her the techniques on the bed. Yuki was paid so that people could have temporary pleasure. Therefore, when their time was up, Yuki would leave without looking back.
That principle had kept her alive and at the top of her game for two years, earning her the title of the most expensive courtesan in the Red District. Yet, all of that discipline had shattered the moment Ivan entered her life.
When she woke the next morning, Yuki found herself still in the same bed, surrounded by the remnants of their night—torn sheets, scattered garments, and the faint scent of his presence. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if testing whether reality had changed overnight. She looked at her wrist, noting the fresh bruise left by Ivan's bindings. The bruise on her hand still slightly throbbed. But at that moment, Yuki couldn't feel anything but satisfaction in her heart.
"Yuki, consider this sex as our introduction. Remember that in the future, I won't be this gentle when we have sex."
A faint smile appeared on Yuki's face. The girl gently kissed the bruise on her hand. No one could have guessed the thoughts swirling in her mind until Yuki's attendant entered the room, her eyes wide with terror and awe.
"Sakura!"
Yuki looked at her, perplexed by the intensity of the girl's gaze, as though she were staring at someone who had returned from the dead. The attendant hurried forward, words tumbling out in a flurry of panic.
"You're alive! Oh my God! You actually survived the night with him!"
Yuki raised an eyebrow, an almost imperceptible frown crossing her features. She didn't understand why everyone assumed she would die simply for spending a night with Ivan.
Yes, he could be harsh. But he was a professional sadist, precise and calculated. He did not harm for the sake of cruelty. Yuki felt that every movement, every touch, had its own purpose. Even the way he had bound her had been meticulous, almost… elegant.
A smile crept onto her lips again. This time it's sharper, tinged with something that unsettled the young attendant.
"Sakura… you… you can smile?"
It was a question that startled her. Yuki had never smiled since arriving at the brothel. Her lips had carried only the masks of compliance, obedience, and control. The realization made the fleeting expression vanish immediately, leaving her in the familiar coldness she wore like armor to protect herself.
"I want to take a bath," she said simply, her voice calm despite the storm of thoughts behind her eyes.
"Ah, of course! Let me help you!"
In their world, less remarkable girls were assigned to attend to the courtesans—cleaning, preparing baths, assisting with dressing. Yuki allowed the attendant to ready the bath, sinking finally into the warm water that seeped into her muscles, easing the tension left by the night.
"You seem surprised I survived him. Is he really that terrifying?"
Yuki's voice was steady, but her eyes searched the girl's face for the truth. The attendant hesitated, then spoke, words rushed but weighted with genuine fear.
"I heard he's called the Shinigami by people in the Red District because he kills anyone who fails to satisfy him in bed. Countless 'Sakuras' from other brothels… didn't make it when they spent the night with him. That's why we feared you wouldn't either."
Yuki's gaze darkened. No wonder everyone treated her with such caution yesterday. It was all because they thought Yuki would die that night.
"But you survived, and you're unharmed too! That's what we expect from the Sakura of our brothel," the girl added, attempting reassurance.
Yuki was silent for a moment. She enjoyed the careful treatment from the girl who served her before she finally decided to speak again.
"Do you know who that man really is?"
"You don't know him, Sakura?"
Surprise flickered in the girl's eyes, quickly replaced by regret. Yuki was their Master's favorite. Unlike others, she was forbidden even from leaving the brothel. Knowledge of the world outside was a privilege she did not possess.
"I don't know his real name," the girl admitted, "but people say he's the reason the Red District has survived. No one disrespects him here. I've also heard that his main base… is in Russia."
A Russian who had carved out power in Japan. It seemed impossible—but Ivan had done it, a testament to the man who had spent the night with her.
"Does that mean Master respects him, too?"
Yuki had witnessed the yakuza bending under Ivan's presence, yet she needed confirmation. The power that made men shiver was now something she could potentially leverage.
"Of course! I think that if the Master wasn't afraid of him, he wouldn't let that man kill any girl who didn't satisfy him every time he came to Japan."
Yuki looked up at the ceiling as her mind began to get busy. Ivan might be her only way to freedom for now. Of all the clients Yuki had served, only Ivan had the power to render the yakuza helpless.
This time, Yuki might succeed. Yuki also felt that Ivan seemed satisfied with her hard work. Therefore, if her guess was correct, Ivan would visit her again soon.
This time, Yuki would do whatever she could to get out of the place that had been holding her captive. Even if she had to rely on a killer, she would do it if it meant she could finally be free.