The Guests 

Summoning his courage, his voice quiet but firm in the charged space between them, Haruka said, “Mama, is that not also a form of taming?”

“If you insist on understanding it that way, you are not wrong,” Lady Murasaki said, her tone as calm and matter-of-fact as if she were discussing the weather. “The interactions between people… are they not just a matter of taming and being tamed?” She added, a hint of amusement in her voice, “In that case, yes. I am taming you.”

Haruka despised such disrespectful, clinical words. If they had come from anyone else’s mouth, he would have been furious. But looking at Lady Murasaki’s beautiful, lonely face, he felt no disgust, only a strange, sharp pang of pity for her.

“Of course,” Lady Murasaki said calmly, as if reading his thoughts, “I believe I am ‘training’ you, not ‘taming’ you. No one else has that privilege.”

Haruka truly could not accept this twisted, suffocating way of thinking. He said, in a deliberately provocative tone, “Why is it that only you can tame me, Mama, and not the other way around?”

Lady Murasaki let out two soft, musical laughs. “Alright, alright. You can tame me, Haruka. You can tame me.”

Haruka could tell she was treating his words as childish nonsense, a kitten pretending to be a tiger. He buried his defiance deep in his heart and, for now, allowed himself to be led by her.

Kiyohime watched them, a pair of dark silhouettes whispering together. It’s only been a day, she thought, a sour ache in her chest. Why do Mama and brother seem closer than she and I have been in all these years?

Lady Murasaki arrived at Kiyohime’s side and, with the slightly pained expression of someone about to try a food she disliked, she held out her hand.

Kiyohime took it, a jolt of pure, surprised joy shooting through her. For the first time, she felt that her mother’s hand was warm and strong. It pulled her to her feet in a single, firm, undeniable motion.

Lady Murasaki led the “brother and sister” out of the room and down the long, silent corridor. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, the gloom and mist of the morning completely gone.

“Mama, where are we going?” Kiyohime asked curiously, her earlier discontent forgotten.

Lady Murasaki glanced at her, not wanting to answer. Haruka said to Kiyohime, “I imagine Mama is taking us to meet the guests.”

“That’s right,” Lady Murasaki said, her tone softening almost imperceptibly at Haruka’s perception.

They must be very important guests, Kiyohime thought, otherwise Mother wouldn’t be meeting them herself.

But Haruka’s thoughts went a layer deeper. Mama is bringing Kiyohime and me to meet this guest. This must mean she truly intends to accept us, to present us as a family.

The three of them walked for the time it would take to drink a cup of tea, arriving at another quiet, secluded part of the estate. Lady Murasaki slid open a paper screen door, revealing a purely traditional Japanese tea room—a stark, serene contrast to the other parts of the estate, which all had some Western elements.

The maids had already prepared everything and had all withdrawn. Haruka hadn’t seen a single one on their way here.

The three of them sat down. Lady Murasaki corrected Haruka’s posture slightly with a gentle touch, and he had just gotten used to the formal, restrictive position when he heard the door slide open again.

A man and a woman stood in the doorway, framed by the light.

Haruka looked at them carefully. They appeared to be in their thirties. The woman had her hair in an elegant updo and was quite beautiful, with a warm, lively expression. The man’s features were merely ordinary and well-groomed, but he had a comfortable, friendly aura about him, so much so that even their unannounced entrance seemed perfectly natural.

“Madam, it has been a long time,” the man said with a broad, easy smile.

“Oneesan, it’s been too long. You’ve grown even more beautiful,” the woman added, her voice like tinkling bells.

Lady Murasaki did not stand, but simply smiled and gestured for them to sit. After a few simple pleasantries, the man sat down casually, helping the woman beside him to settle. His gaze swept idly across the room.

For some reason, Haruka felt the man was like a large, squatting toad, his friendly smile a thin veneer. His large eyes suddenly locked onto Haruka’s. Haruka, who knew no fear, met his gaze for a moment, unblinking.

The man, genuinely surprised by the boy’s composure, said, “Madam, this girl must be your daughter Kiyohime, whom you often speak of. But this boy is…”

“He is my illegitimate son from the outside,” Lady Murasaki said with a calm, untroubled smile.

The man just laughed, unconcerned. An “illegitimate son” was a common occurrence in their world, not a source of shame, but rather a topic for amusing, whispered conversation.

The woman, seeing how handsome Haruka was, felt a sense of genuine fondness. “Oneesan, he has indeed inherited some of your looks. I wonder how many women he will captivate in the future.” She then teased him directly. “Little boy, do you know what you should call me?”

“Of course,” Haruka said without a moment’s hesitation. “I should call you ‘oneechan’.”

The woman couldn’t help but laugh, a delighted, musical sound. She turned to Lady Murasaki. “I thought he would foolishly call me ‘godmother’.”

The man laughed along with her, then asked in an easygoing, casual tone, “And what should you call me, son?”

“Ojisan,” Haruka replied, his voice even.

The woman laughed even harder. The man chuckled, and then, in an instant, the friendly mask fell away, revealing a bloody raw, predatory expression. “You call her ‘oneechan’, so why do I become ‘ojisan’?” he asked, his voice sharp as a shard of glass.

He had been testing Haruka from the very start.

Kiyohime saw that things were turning sour and wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. She could only look to her mother for help, but Lady Murasaki was calmly preparing tea, completely unconcerned, as if watching a play unfold. Before Kiyohime could think of a solution, Haruka smiled and said to the woman, “It is always better for a woman to be younger. Just like with my own mother, I wish she were several years younger. So, naturally, I must call you ‘onee-chan’. It’s a way of wishing you eternal youth.”

He then turned to the man. “But for a man, there are advantages to being older. I wish I were a few years older, to be as heroic and distinguished as you are, Ojisan.”

The woman was stunned by his words, her mouth slightly agape. The man’s human mask immediately slipped back on, and he slapped the low table and let out a long, booming laugh. “Hahaha, ‘heroic and distinguished’… Nobuna, did you hear that?”

The woman, Nobuna, gently patted the man’s back. “Alright, alright, don’t choke.”

“Madam, your son is truly a smooth talker,” the man said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.

Lady Murasaki placed the freshly brewed tea in front of them, her tone perfectly flat. “He is just a child speaking nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart, Mr. Koizumi.”

This “Mr. Koizumi” then asked, “What is your name, son?”

Haruka knew he couldn’t use his surname in front of such important guests. He didn’t care for himself, but he didn’t want to embarrass Lady Murasaki. “My name is Haruka,” he said.

Mr. Koizumi nodded. “Fujiwara Haruka?”

Haruka didn’t reply, but Lady Murasaki said, “He is not a Fujiwara. For now, his surname is Yukishiro.”

“Yukishiro Haruka?” Mr. Koizumi repeated, a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Why does he have someone else’s name?”

“He was raised by his ‘other mother’,” Lady Murasaki explained. “Out of gratitude for her care, he has not yet changed his name.”

“A filial child is more valuable to raise,” Mr. Koizumi said with a meaningful look. “As long as you are his birth mother, that is all that matters.”

Hearing the words “birth mother,” Haruka secretly glanced at Lady Murasaki, the ground beneath him shifting once again, still completely unsure of whose son he truly was.

Lady Murasaki’s narrow, beautiful eyes flickered toward Haruka. “The road is long and the task is difficult,” she said, her words a quiet, enigmatic statement.

Mr. Koizumi laughed. “‘A long road’ is better than having no children at all, like my wife and I. My father-in-law is still vexed by the matter.”