The hallway was dim, lit only by a few flickering red lanterns. A soft, flowery scent filled the air, masking the faint metallic smell that Gray noticed beneath it.
When they stopped before a sliding wooden door, she turned slightly, her voice low and smooth.
"Please, wait inside, young master. Someone will come for you shortly."
Gray said nothing and stepped through.
The room was small, elegant, with silk curtains, a low table, and a faint smell of incense burning in the corner.
But the air felt… off. Too quiet.
Fwoop!
A sharp rush of wind cut through the air.
The oiran's body blurred.
She was suddenly behind him, her movement fast enough to leave a faint afterimage in the air.
Her expression was no longer soft or flirtatious; her eyes had turned cold and sharp like a blade.
But Gray was already moving.
He tilted his head slightly to the right, the dagger grazing past his cheek, leaving only a thin line of blood.
