"Ah… Miss Wang… slower… it hurts… there… you can’t touch *there*… if you do that…"

Kanata lay on the tatami mat in the pleasure house madam’s room. The mat was spotless and soft, carrying a faint herbal scent. An incense burner glowed nearby, releasing a gentle, pleasant fragrance from an unknown tablet.

Truly… a comfortable setting. Perfect for…

"Miss Kanata," the madam teased, "those adorable little sounds you’re making… I’d say you’d fit right in as a courtesan here. Many of our girls can’t produce cries with that much *soul*—what we call ‘soulless’."

Kanata had zero energy to respond to Miss Wang’s relentless teasing.

She never wanted this—stripped bare, lying on a stranger’s futon, begging a woman she barely knew to tend her wounds. The werewolf’s scratches weren’t obvious, blended with older injuries. *She’s not a doctor. She can’t possibly tell.*

She was dead wrong.

"Hmm… You were scratched by an Infected. That’s why you refused a doctor earlier, right?" Miss Wang paused deliberately, letting tension coil before continuing. "I’ve seen others like you. Their ends were grim. When they transformed, panicked residents reported them to the Imperial Guard. Some were dragged to bio-labs for the ‘experts’ to study—*torture*, really. Others… shot on sight by the Imperial Guard in full combat gear."

"…"

Kanata had witnessed it. Infected who kept their sanity faced only two paths: become a living specimen for cruel "research," or die.

*If I die… what happens to Nozomi?*

Father had whispered of a reason—*a reason to protect her no matter what*—but never revealed it. Only murmured, *"It’d be better if this secret rotted away, unknown to anyone."*

"P-please… keep this secret. I have a twin sister… Nozomi. She’s gravely ill, bound to a wheelchair. If she loses me…"

The words choked her. Kanata nearly dropped to her knees.

They’d survived in the cracks, hearts pounding, walking on thin ice. Without Nozomi, what meaning would her life hold? Her purpose had always been to care for her sister.

Father favored Nozomi in every detail. Kanata had felt jealousy once—but she’d long outgrown it. She had what Nozomi never could: health. Now, only responsibility remained.

"Relax," Miss Wang said softly. "If I meant to threaten you, my face wouldn’t look like this."

She cradled a gray ceramic teacup, sipping calmly, unshakably steady.

"Every girl working in a pleasure house in Falling Cherry City carries hardship. We don’t tear each other down like those outside Kabukicho. After all… for us, who’ve lost our families? We *are* each other’s family."

Her voice held quiet weight.

Her own city-state had fallen to war—burned to ash, leaving her with nothing. Seeing Kanata was like seeing her younger self.

"Rest easy. Kabukicho will be your sanctuary. I promise—you *will* survive here."