Page 19 of The Tainted and the Tamed
Part of him wished to be caught.
Though Ms. Mukai knew his face, she was still oblivious to his identity. He both wanted that to change and feared what would happen if it did. Would she become a victim of his true nature, just as Chiyo had?
Setouchi was right. Haruki had neglected whatever humanity was left to him—and now his loneliness had him unraveling. And here was the proof: when Tanabe tried to hurry off, he said, “Wait.”
She turned quickly, having no time even for him. “Yes, Chairman?”
“Is the coach at the gate already?”
“Almost. The boy we sent as a runner came ten minutes ago. It won’t be long, sir.” She hesitated. “I’ll bring you a fresh pot when your guest arrives.”
“Thank you.”
She waited for him to give her leave to go, while he tried to think of an excuse for her to stay. However long it would take his friend to arrive, it would be too long. Haruki didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts anymore.
“Is there any word on the missing maid?” he asked.
“‘Missing,’ I think, is too strong a word.” Tanabe’s jaw set in a forbidding line. “That girl was always flighty and impulsive. I’ve put out word in town, only to find out she had the worst sort of reputation. If only they’d had this much to saybeforeI hired her.”
Haruki raised a brow. “What sort of reputation?”
“She was with a far older man for quite some time—one of the nouveau riche businessmen in Sandai Prefecture. And I don’t mean as his wife, sir.”
Haruki folded his arms. “I see.”
“I never would have hired her if I’d known,” Tanabe added hastily. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d come here hoping to win your favor, after her last beau cast her aside. I’m sure she had a rude awakening when she realized how separate you must keep yourself, and ran off.”
How separate you must keep yourself.The words settled in his stomach like day-old meat.
“Girls like that,” Haruki began, pausing to choose his words more carefully, “must be spoken of more generously. We don’t know what drove them to such a lifestyle. It may be she thought it her only means to survive.”
And he’d taken advantage of that. He hadn’t meant to, but that was no excuse.
This isolation was making him act dishonorably. He was already corrupt in the body. Now he was corrupt in the mind.
“You’re perhaps too kind, Chairman,” Tanabe said, squeezing her pale hands together. She pointed her chin toward the open door to his garden. “The sun has sufficiently set. I’ll wait for them outside.”
“Them?”
Displeasure registered on Tanabe’s face. “I’m sorry this is the first you’re hearing of it, Chairman. Your staff was caught unawares. It won’t happen again.”
She bowed deeply.
Haruki responded by sitting down on a cushion, his mind reeling.
Who would Junpei have brought with him?
Curiosity got the best of Haruki, as would this stupid mask. It might have concealed his identity, but the carved cypress wood was growing increasingly damp inside from both the angled rain and his respirations—sped up a little so as to look normal for the staff. With a fabric hood attached to it, it maximized his discomfort.
It had been a long time since he’d worn this full mask. Now he recalled why. The cheerful face with chubby cheeks—a far cry from his usual demon mask that allowed for eating and drinking—could not have represented his expression more poorly.
Still, he found himself standing in front of Tanabe and Uno, who held an umbrella over him with some difficulty, as Haruki was taller and necessarily stood in front of his butler. The staff were lined up behind him, their hems growing soggy beneath their umbrellas as the coach trundled towards them, Haruki’s quartet of white horses crunching wet gravel beneath their wide hooves. It had rained continuously today as the surprise late typhoon approached. If he wasn’t mistaken, the autumn festival was this weekend. If the storm didn’t pass quickly, it would ruin the event.
The festival was always a harsh reminder: a few more weeks and Fusae would be blanketed in snow. The very stuff that betrayed Haruki’s footprints when he went out at night, spoiling the freedom of the hours past sunset.
At last, the horses came to a stop. The driver remained in place as Haruki himself approached the door. A pair of Haruki’s servants opened umbrellas for the guest, their bodies as far from the carriage as possible. One did not approach a chairman and his party unless specifically invited to.
The coach’s door swung open before he could reach it.
