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The corridor was quieter than the rest of the mansion, dim light spilling through tall windows and painting pale streaks across the polished floor. It was just the two of us now—no whispers, no glares, no suspicious eyes trailing after my every move. For the first time since I had decided to act, I had Ayame exactly where I wanted her.
And gods, she looked the part.
Her outfit was far from her usual combat-ready attire, no stern uniform of steel and leather, no muted tones that made her blend into shadows. Tonight, she had dressed beautifully—almost unnervingly so. Flowing fabric clung to her form in a way that suggested grace but whispered danger beneath. The subtle swish of her skirts against the floor echoed faintly with every step she took, and I could feel the jealous stares of the others burning into my back as we left the living room.
But I didn't care. Let them stew in their envy. Let them gnash their teeth in silence.
She was mine tonight.
