The Actress in the Play

“And isn’t that for the best?”

Lady Murasaki’s voice was cold, devoid of all emotion, a shard of ice in the sudden quiet of the empty room. “In the end, the Kurosaki family is all yours, is it not? Of everyone sitting at that table, including myself, perhaps no one is as free and as… promiscuous… as you are.”

The words “free and promiscuous” struck Izayoi like a physical blow. The color drained from her beautiful, flushed face, leaving it pale and fragile. Her lips trembled.

There were still people in the hall, their shadows moving past the doorway.

Afraid she would lose control, that the carefully constructed mask would shatter for all to see, Lady Murasaki grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.

Izayoi was not so drunk that she had lost all reason. She allowed herself to be led, following Lady Murasaki to a remote, empty room at the end of a long, dark corridor. The moment the heavy wooden door closed, sealing them in silence, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “My husband can’t give me any happiness!” The words were a raw, desperate cry.

“Happiness is something you must seize for yourself,” Lady Murasaki sneered, her voice a weapon of pure disdain. “You know this better than anyone. How else did you get the Kurosaki family?”

“I would rather not have the Kurosaki family than be as alone as I am now.”

“You have the entire Kurosaki family for yourself, what kind of man can you not find, hm? You shouldn’t blame yourself if he is impotent,” Lady Murasaki said, her tone clinical, cruel. “Oh, that’s right. He can’t even care now, can he? Because the Kurosaki family is no longer his.”

A bitter, tragic smile crossed Izayoi’s face. “It is more than just ‘not caring…”

“Then what do you have to be upset about? Everyone says you are a wanton woman, still, we have known each other for many years, I never believed it. But now, you even dare to flirt with my son. It seems you have been… well-watered these past few years.”

Izayoi wanted to scream that she was still a virgin, a cruel joke played by fate, but she knew no one would believe her. Lady Murasaki’s words ignited a fire of pure, unadulterated anger within her, and she laughed coldly, deliberately saying the opposite, wanting to wound, to hurt. “That’s right. These lips have been tasted by a thousand men, these hands have been a pillow for ten thousand. And my favorite thing to do is to tease beautiful young boys like the Young Master Haruka.”

Lady Murasaki’s eyebrow twitched, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, but she quickly recovered her smile. “Quite the actress. You almost fooled me there, Izayoi. No wonder you used to say you wanted to be a geisha when you grew up. That mouth of yours is very convincing.”

“How can I compare to your clever, deceitful tongue, my Lady? Otherwise, I would not have been fooled,” Izayoi retorted, her voice sharp. “And I said I wanted to be a Chinese opera singer. When did I ever say I wanted to be a geisha?”

“Hmph, what’s the difference?” Lady Murasaki said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s all just using clever words to please men. It truly suits you.”

Izayoi sneered. “Most opera singers are men.”

“So what? Men or women, in the end, it’s all about pleasing the audience, pleasing their masters. It has always been this way.”

“You speak more beautifully than you sing. What does it matter to you what I want to be? Are you so much nobler than I am?”

“Of course I am,” Lady Murasaki said, her voice soft, but her words absolute. “Because I am the head of the house, and you, you are an actress.”

“Yes, you are the head of the house. You have the final say in everything, and everyone must listen to you. But do you know what you are in my heart?”

“What?”

“Just a liar!”

“And what have I lied to you about?”

“You lied and stole my happiness.”

“Why don’t you just call me a thief?” Lady Murasaki couldn’t help but laugh, a sound devoid of all humor. “I thought you were angry at me for stealing the position of head of the house.”

Izayoi pressed her lips together, her body trembling. “We grew up together, you know. But for the sake of becoming the head of the house, you would resort to any means?” 

“When did I resort to any means? I asked for your opinion. You were the one who agreed to marry him, Izayoi. I did not force you.”

“That is why I say you lied to me!” Izayoi roared, her voice echoing in the small, empty room. “Originally, the Old Mistress wanted you to marry him, not me!”

Lady Murasaki said coldly, “Heh, then why don’t you blame the Old Mistress? Why do you blame me?”

“The Old Mistress did not lie to me. You did,” Izayoi said furiously. “I should have stood with the Old Mistress earlier.”

“Then you are truly pathetic.”

“Yes, I am pathetic,” Izayoi giggled, a broken, unhinged sound. Her tense body slowly relaxed, her eyes becoming silky and dangerously flirtatious. “Haven’t you heard? The more pathetic a woman is, the more beautiful she becomes.”

Izayoi pressed her body against Lady Murasaki’s, her long, white nails gently tracing the delicate skin of her face. With a single, swift movement, she pulled the jeweled hairpin from Lady Murasaki’s hair. A waterfall of dark, fragrant hair cascaded down, scattering across Izayoi’s face, tickling her and making her laugh with a bewitching, manic charm. She stared at Lady Murasaki with a look of obsessive fascination. “You are truly wasting this beautiful face. So boring.”

As she spoke, her fingers twirled a lock of Lady Murasaki’s hair, her breath a warm, ghostly whisper against her cheek. “Between the two of us, my Lady, who is more beautiful?”

Lady Murasaki remained unmoved, a statue of ice.

Both possessed a beauty that could captivate even other women, an aura that ordinary women could not compare to. Standing together, they were a breathtaking, tragic sight. It was impossible to say who was superior.

Izayoi seemed to be drunk, her body limp as she leaned against Lady Murasaki. “I will have my revenge on you,” she breathed, her voice a venomous promise. “You say I am pathetic? Then I will show you pathetic. When the Young Master Haruka is a few years older, I will seduce him. I will kick my useless husband out and make the Young Master my husband. I will see to it that he has many women. I will make him the greatest, biggest heartbreaker in the world.”

Lady Murasaki suppressed her inner rage, her voice dangerously calm. “I don’t care.”

“Yes, you don’t care about anyone,” Izayoi said. “In that case, I will sneak the Young Master Haruka away tonight.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“Are you sure?” Izayoi said with a sweet, terrifying smile. “You know I have my ways. As the Chinese saying goes, ‘One can be a thief for a thousand days, but one cannot guard against a thief for a thousand days.’ If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after. You will let your guard down eventually. And when you do, I will quietly kidnap the Young Master, hide him away in the Kurosaki house, and none of you will ever find him.”

Lady Murasaki’s brow gradually furrowed. If Izayoi was determined to cause trouble, she would indeed be a considerable, unpredictable problem.

“Stop this foolishness. It will do neither of us any good.”

“I just want to disgust you.”

Izayoi’s tone suddenly shifted, as mercurial as her sometimes pure, sometimes seductive demeanor. “How about this? You can compensate me with the Young Master Haruka. I will trade you a part of the Kurosaki family for him. What do you say?”

“No need. I have already recognized him as my own flesh and blood.”

“Flesh and blood without even changing his surname?” Izayoi laughed. “That doesn’t sound like you. Isn’t it more your style to use him and then discard him in exchange for some benefit?”

“I am not as cold-blooded as you think,” Lady Murasaki said.

“I find that hard to believe…”

Lady Murasaki suddenly noticed Izayoi staring intently at her face, her eyes narrowed in thought. “What are you looking at!” she said, a sense of genuine unease creeping over her.

“I just realized,” Izayoi said, her voice a soft, dangerous whisper, “the Young Master Haruka’s eyes are a little like yours. Could it be…”

Lady Murasaki coldly pushed her away.

Izayoi giggled, a sound that was both triumphant and mad. “…Could it be that the Young Master Haruka is actually your biological son?”