Page 131 of The Dragon 2
It would undo me.
Just as I was adjusting my stance, a softclickechoed through the tiny chamber.
What was that?
I tensed.
A seam in the back wall I hadn’t noticed before—one disguised perfectly in the matte black—began to glow faintly red along its edges.
Then, a hidden door appeared, and with a soft hydraulic hiss, it opened inward.
Warm, golden light spilled from the other side, diffusing the red hue in the cramped room like a sunrise pushing through fog.
Framed in the glow stood a woman.
Regal.
Poised.
Her presence alone altered the air.
This is not my Tiger. Who is this?
The woman stepped in and recognized me first.
"M-Mr. Sato?" The voice, while composed, held a note of surprise—maybe even awe.
I studied her.
Aww. Hiroko Watanabe. Now things are making sense.
Tonight, she wore a rich kimono of crimson, gold, and obsidian black. Her hair was pinned. She was elegant as always and radiating feminine power.
This is the so called “old woman” the guards saw having tea with Nyomi? They made a foolish mistake.
The last time I’d seen Hiroko, she was negotiating a man’s fate with a smile and a whip—poised, merciless, and glittering with venomous charm. He’d been a corporate tyrant with generational wealth and a god complex.
He thought he could possess her.
He was wrong.
When he began to stalk her—threatening to buy the building her club was housed in and take it away unlessshesurrendered tohim—she didn’t fold.
Hiroko came to me.
Not in tears.
But with fire in her eyes and pride in her spine.
She asked for my assistance, and I obliged.
Hours later, I had the man dragged into my office—stripped of his suit, his power, and his delusions. He knelt on imported marble, sweat clinging to his skin as I carved the lesson into his flesh.
It all spilled out.
Blood.
Spit.
