The morning light should have been warm. But inside the Kurosawa mansion, dawn felt like a threat.
Anika sat on the edge of the wide futon, wearing the silk robe they had left for her. It wrapped around her body like a cage pretending to be a gift. She hadn't slept. Not really. Her mind had repeated the voice message over and over, each word striking her like a blade.
"If you marry me, he lives."
Her little brother's face—his wide grin, the way he clung to her when he was scared—flashed before her eyes like a dying star.
I don't have a choice, she told herself. This isn't love. This isn't marriage. It's survival.
The door slid open.
Aiko returned, as precise as a shadow.
"He's waiting."
Anika stood, the robe swishing at her ankles. Her legs trembled, but she didn't let them see her fear. Not again. Not today.
She followed Aiko down a hallway lined with black calligraphy scrolls and gold-trimmed lanterns. The house smelled of incense and secrets. Guards nodded silently as she passed, their faces carved from stone.
They entered what looked like a study—but it felt more like a shrine. Bookshelves towered to the ceiling. A katana was mounted above a fireplace. In the center, at a wide lacquer desk, sat the man who had destroyed her life with a sentence.
Rai Kurosawa.
Today, he wore a traditional black montsuki kimono, the family crest embroidered in silver at his chest. His left hand rested on the desk, fingers curled around a cup of steaming tea. On the back of that hand, she saw it—clearer now in the daylight:
A black rose tattoo.
Petals twisting like smoke.
Thorns inked deep.
It was beautiful. And terrifying.
He didn't look up immediately. Just sipped his tea like she wasn't trembling in front of him.
"Sit," he said at last.
She obeyed.
"I want to go home," she whispered, more out of instinct than hope.
Rai's eyes lifted to hers. Dark. Unreadable.
"There is no home," he said flatly. "Not anymore."
Her throat burned. "I'll do what you ask. But I want proof. Of my brother. That he's safe."
For a moment, the room went still. Then Rai reached into a drawer and slid a phone across the desk.
A video played.
Her brother. Sleeping peacefully in a small room. A time-stamp. Today's date.
Tears welled in her eyes.
"He's in our custody," Rai said. "Not a prisoner. But watched. And protected."
Her hands clenched. "You mean threatened."
Rai didn't argue.
He stood, walking around the desk until he was beside her. He moved like a storm wrapped in silk—silent but full of warning.
Then he reached down... and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Anika froze.
"You want answers?" he murmured. "Ask."
Her voice shook. "Why me? Why not someone willing?"
He paused. And then, in a voice that sounded more like prophecy than truth, he said:
"Because the willing lie. The willing betray. And the willing love for the wrong reasons."
He leaned closer.
"But fear… fear is honest. And I prefer honesty in my bride."
Her heart thundered.
Rai turned away, his kimono whispering along the floor. "Your fitting is at noon. The ceremony is tomorrow. You'll be given a new name, a new ID, a new life."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Don't fight it, Anika.
The more obedient you are, the safer your world remains."
Then he was gone.
Leaving her in a room that smelled of cherry blossoms and danger.
Anika stared down at the black rose etched on a man's skin… and realized she'd just glimpsed the thorn she'd be sleeping beside for six months.