Trust

“Is that your prophecy?” Haruka’s anger twisted into a cold, sharp laugh. “In any case, thank you for answering my questions. I have nothing more to ask.” With that, he turned and left the room, the miko’s mad laughter echoing in his ears.

When he opened the door, he saw Momozawa Ai standing directly opposite, her posture serene, as if she had been admiring the pattern of the wood grain while waiting for him.

“Did Miko-sama resolve your doubts, Young Master?” she asked, her face a perfect mask of polite concern.

“She answered everything,” Haruka said, a heavy worry settling in his heart. He was now completely convinced the miko was a dangerous fraud. “I know everything I need to.”

“Is Miko-sama still inside?” Momozawa Ai asked calmly.

A corner of Haruka’s mouth lifted in a cynical smile. “I imagine she’s still in there, appreciating the tea.”

Momozawa Ai nodded and beckoned to a nearby maid. “See to Miko-sama’s needs.” She then turned back to Haruka, extending a small, fair hand, an offering of truce. “Young Master, please allow me to escort you to the party.”

Haruka hesitated for a moment before taking her hand. It was cool to the touch, smooth as polished marble.

Momozawa Ai, however, seemed to find his hand surprisingly warm, broader than that of other boys his age. It felt like a small, steady furnace, threatening to melt her composure. After a few steps, she loosened her grip slightly, only to press her hand more firmly against his again, a small, possessive gesture that made Haruka feel awkward, like a small child being led by the hand. Despite his age, no one had ever treated him like a child, not even his own mother.

Haruka acted as if nothing had happened. “Mrs. Butler,” he asked, his voice neutral, “who was it that invited Miko-sama here?”

Momozawa Ai glanced at him, her expression unreadable.

Haruka thought she must have been one of the people who suggested it and was about to change the subject, but she hesitated, then said, “The Old Mistress.”

Haruka was shocked. “She requested the miko herself?”

Momozawa Ai nodded.

“Should I… not be asking about the Old Mistress’s affairs?” Haruka asked tentatively.

“I do not disclose the Old Mistress’s affairs to anyone,” Momozawa Ai said, her beautiful face a mask, devoid of human warmth. Then, suddenly, she turned her head, her warm breath ghosting across Haruka’s ear as she whispered, “But if the Young Master wishes to know, I can tell you. And only you.”

Haruka’s heart skipped a beat. He looked at the soft curve of her jaw, the pulse beating gently in her neck, and forced himself to regain his composure. He offered a small, knowing smile. “This ‘only you’… am I really the only one you share secrets with?”

He suddenly felt her hand tighten around his for a fraction of a second, a flicker of irritation, before her grip relaxed again.

Still holding his hand, Momozawa Ai said, her voice smooth as silk, “I am the butler of the Fujiwara family. Besides you, Young Master, I have not been this… close… with anyone else.”

“You must always attend to the mistresses of the house,” Haruka pointed out.

Momozawa Ai inclined her head slightly. “That is my duty.” She paused, her sapphire eyes searching his. “I know you do not have a good impression of me.”

“I never said that.”

Momozawa Ai raised a long, white finger and pressed it gently against his lips, silencing him. “Shh. Young Master, don’t say anything. I know you are very clever. But sometimes, you are a little too cautious. It is your strength… and also your weakness.”

Haruka stopped walking, not just because of her gesture, but because of the two figures ahead of them. Fujiwara Kiyohime was leaning against the wall, looking bored and twisting a lock of her dark hair, clearly having been waiting for some time. Momozawa Sakuya stood beside her, her posture tall and straight, a silent guardian.

Kiyohime heard their footsteps and immediately straightened up, the faint smile on her face slowly freezing as she took in the scene before her.

Momozawa Ai, whose fluid eyes had already registered their presence, did not change her expression. Her soft fingers moved from Haruka’s lips to his earlobe, which she gently pinched and rubbed, her nail lightly scraping his skin. He felt a jolt like an electric shock and instinctively wanted to pull away, but the words she spoke next, a breath against his ear, forced him to remain still.

“It was the Old Mistress who had us summon the miko,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the shell of his ear. “She was also the one who forbade us from calling a doctor.” Her eyes met his, a universe of unspoken meaning in their depths. “And her illness… it did not begin a month ago. It began three years ago.”

Haruka froze, the words hitting him with the force of a physical blow. Before he could respond, Momozawa Ai immediately stepped back, her transformation instantaneous. She bowed slightly toward Kiyohime. “My apologies, Second Young Mistress. I was so engrossed in my conversation with the Young Master that I did not see you.”

Kiyohime’s face had turned ugly. “Ai-neechan, what did you just say to him?”

Momozawa Ai tilted her head, her exquisite face a mask of innocence, but her words were laced with poison. “I was just giving the Young Master some advice… on what it takes to be a man. Would the Second Young Mistress like to know?”

Kiyohime, unabashed, retorted, “Go on, tell me. I’m listening.”

Momozawa Ai’s tone turned cold. “It would be inappropriate to discuss such things with a young lady. Perhaps you should ask your mother, Lady Murasaki, for guidance.”

At the mention of her mother, Kiyohime flinched as if struck, shrinking back like a mouse that had seen a cat. “Never mind.” She shot a resentful look at Sakuya, as if to say, Ugh, why is your mother like this?

Sakuya let out a long, weary sigh. She had been dealing with this her entire life; she was used to it.

“Sakuya,” Momozawa Ai said, her voice crisp and authoritative. “You’ve come at the right time. I have something to report to Lady Murasaki. You will look after the Young Master.” Turning to Haruka, she bowed. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As she walked away, Haruka heard her whisper, a sound so soft it might have been the rustle of her silk dress, “Please trust me.”

He watched her retreating back, a deep, thoughtful expression on his face, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and suspicion.

“She’s gone, you can stop staring,” Kiyohime said, her voice just loud enough for her displeasure to be obvious. “Sakuya, let’s go.”

Sakuya, however, decided to sabotage her. “But Second Young Mistress, you waited for so long. Are you really going to leave now?”

Kiyohime panicked, rushing to cover her friend’s mouth. “What are you talking about, Sakuya! We were just passing by, just passing by!”

Seeing her frantic attempt to cover her tracks, a genuine smile touched Haruka’s lips.

A blush crept up Kiyohime’s pale skin. She glared at him, a mixture of anger and embarrassment in her eyes. “Sakuya, we’re leaving!” She spun around and stomped off without looking back. Suddenly, she realized she was alone. She turned and saw Sakuya speaking to Haruka.

“Don’t mind her,” Sakuya was saying with a small, apologetic smile. “That’s just how she is.”

“Sakuya!” Kiyohime shouted, rushing back to angrily drag her friend away.

Haruka smiled to himself and followed them, a pawn in a game whose rules he was only just beginning to understand.