"Then why did you run here?" Xin Huohuo asked curiously.
"Because of the proprietress," Yamada said, turning his head. He looked toward the proprietress, a woman around fifty who still possessed a graceful charm. She wore a traditional kimono, carried herself with elegance, and though she had wrinkles, her skin was still fair.
The proprietress seemed to know they were talking about her. She turned her head and gave them a dazzling smile—gentle, polite, and captivating.
But perhaps because something was weighing on her mind, Xin Huohuo found the smile unsettling. In fact, when many middle-aged and older Japanese women in traditional clothing smiled so sweetly in certain situations, it often carried an inexplicable, sinister feeling.
