In the red-light district, daytime was when the streets fell silent. Aside from guards patrolling here and there, not a soul lingered outside. The "flowers" usually spent the day resting, recovering from the exhausting nights that had become their lives. Yuki was no exception. Only when the sun began to dip toward the horizon did she finally open her eyes again.
"Sakura, it's time for you to get ready."
As on every other day, an attendant slipped into her room, tasked with preparing her for the evening ahead. By now, the once quiet streets were awakening with life. Even from within Yuki's chamber, she could already hear the hum of chatter, footsteps, and laughter growing louder.
RATTLE!
Her gaze moved to the door as it opened. A woman stepped inside, a lit cigarette dangling between her painted fingers. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, making Yuki's brows furrow in displeasure. Though she had been raised within the suffocating confines of a brothel, she had always hated the stench of tobacco. Anyone else would have been chased out if they ever smoked in her room, but this woman was different.
She was the Madam—a woman in her forties with fiery red lipstick, tasked with overseeing the brothel and its flowers. Yuki knew her visits were no accident. The brothel's owner had specifically instructed her to keep a close eye on Yuki, ensuring that nothing ever went amiss. That was why her presence was constant, particularly before business hours began.
"You really are in one piece," Madam murmured absentmindedly, her eyes tracing over Yuki's bare shoulders, searching for wounds. A curl of smoke trailed lazily from her lips. For a moment, Madam simply stared, as if weighing Yuki in silence, before turning her attention back to the duties of supervision.
"Tonight, Mr. Takawa has reserved you for an entire evening," she continued. "He's one of our valuable patrons. I trust you'll keep him satisfied, as you always do."
Yuki's frown deepened unconsciously.
"Hasn't that man come looking for me again?" she asked quietly.
She had been so sure that Ivan would return to her. Yet reality proved otherwise. Instead of Ivan, another regular client had claimed her for the night.
The first day Ivan failed to appear, Yuki forced herself to believe he was busy—perhaps caught up with work in Japan. But as the days stretched on—second, third, fourth—her confidence began to wither. Now, a week had passed since their last encounter. And still, Ivan had not returned to their brothel even once.
"What man are you talking about?"
Madam's brows knitted in confusion. She had never seen Yuki awaiting anyone before. That was new, almost unsettling.
"Ah… you mean Mr. Ivanovich?"
At last, recognition flickered across Madam's face. Of all the clients, there was only one who might have left such an impression on Yuki.
Her lips curved downward as she took a long drag from her cigarette, displeasure clouding her expression.
"Sakura, don't let it go to your head. You should be grateful to have survived a single night with him. That man isn't someone any of us should ever long for. If he comes again and calls for you, that may very well be the day you die."
Her words were blunt, stripped of mercy. If Ivan had wanted Yuki again, they would have had no choice but to comply—no one dared refuse him. The fact that she hadn't been summoned meant only one thing: Ivan himself had chosen not to look for her again.
As Madam exhaled another stream of smoke, she caught sight of the disappointment flickering across Yuki's face.
None of the girls knew how much Madam had agonized the day Ivan first stepped into their brothel. Every second of his stay had been a strain, her nerves strung taut. Even after he left, escorting him to the door felt like surviving a storm that could return at any moment.
"It would be better if Mr. Ivanovich never set foot in our place again," she muttered under her breath. "Yes, he gives us money, more than most—but that money could never make up for the number of lives lost every time he comes to Japan."
Her whispered prayer was earnest. But for Yuki, it only deepened her despair. Beneath her calm demeanor, her fists clenched. Without Ivan, every chance she had to escape this gilded cage of velvet walls and iron rules vanished.
As the sun dipped fully behind the skyline, the brothels of the district came alive. Lights glimmered like stars against velvet curtains, music floated into the night air, and laughter poured into the streets. Yuki, prepared by her attendants, sat adorned in elegant garments, her beauty arranged to perfection. She looked every bit a devoted wife waiting for her husband's return.
RATTLE!
The door slid open once more. A man in his thirties stepped in, his smile brightening at the sight of her awaiting form.
"Welcome, Master."
Yuki bowed low in practiced obedience, her voice soft, sweet, pliant. Footsteps approached, and then Mr. Takawa crouched before her. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up into a forceful kiss.
"I'm back, Sakura," he murmured, his tone tender, the perfect imitation of a gentleman. But Yuki knew better. She knew the cruelty behind his smile.
Still, she returned his kiss with a smile of her own, though her body trembled faintly.
"Master…"
Her fingers reached up, fumbling at the ties of her own clothing. The silk slipped from her shoulders, revealing the pale beauty of her upper body.
"Master, please… touch me."
She parted her legs slightly, baring the secret beneath her garments. A foreign object filled her—an intrusion she had grown grimly accustomed to. It was the dildo Takawa insisted on using each time he visited her.
"Why didn't you wait for me to stuff that needy little hole with my own hands, Sakura?"
Takawa's voice was laced with feigned disappointment.
"I was really looking forward to filling you with more than just this toy. Watching you wince, hearing your breath catch each time it slides in… every sound you make is pure music to my ears."
"Ah—!"
Yuki gasped when he suddenly yanked the toy free, her body convulsing from the abruptness. Takawa smiled wickedly, delighting in the rawness of her expression.
"As punishment," he said smoothly, "I'll let you feel the toy and my cock at the same time tonight."
The thought alone sent a wave of dread through her. Double penetration was agony. She hated it—hated every second of it. But refusal wasn't hers to give. She had learned that lesson in blood and pain during her first year in the brothel.
"…Please, Master. Do as you wish."
She buried the discomfort deep within herself. Resistance was never an option.
"In that case—"
BANG!
The door exploded inward with a violent crash. Both Yuki and Takawa froze in shock as the splintered wood clattered against the floor. A shadow moved swiftly inside, striding straight toward her.
Before she could even comprehend what was happening, Takawa's body was torn from atop her and hurled across the room, slamming hard against the wall with bone-rattling force.