"This way please, Mrs. Kurosaki, Young Miss." The butler's voice was as cold and mechanical as the clicking of Erina's cane against the polished marble floor.
He moved with a stiff, rehearsed elegance, his eyes never meeting theirs, acting as a grim herald through the labyrinthine corridors of the Kurosaki manor.
Akane led the way, her posture unyielding, her violet eyes scanning every shadow for the trap she knew was waiting.
Behind her, Erina followed, her breathing slightly labored as the heavy, oppressive silence of the house felt like a physical weight on her chest, a reminder of the congenital heart disease that had always been her greatest shackle.
They soon arrived at the massive double doors of Kirei's private office.
The butler knocked twice—a sharp, rhythmic signal—before swinging the doors open.
