Abomination Contract Loving The Enemy - Chapter 25

POV: Takamori

As an enormous creature waking up from its slumber the Phoenix Nest awakes at night, many red round lamplights shining and floating like eyes on wooden posts or at the hands of one of my girls, illuminating the path for our guests that are sure to come soon, the white stone path guiding then in deeper into the bird’s nest.

Used to this nightlife style I’m already awake, only wearing one red layer of light clothing, the golden feathers sewed along over it, adding charm and fascination but not more than the skin that such short thin outfit let visible, especially the legs fully in display, the white barely touched by the sun skin alluring against the red and gold.

Sitting on top of a pillow I brush my black hair, looking at the mirror and staring at my yellow eyes, such quiet alone time could almost make me able to ignore the chaos that the world is in, the small comforting and peaceful action neutralizing my energy up and evening my breathing.

Up and down the comb goes, slowly for my once long hair is cut much shorter, my bright yellow eyes reflecting the ornamented room I’m in, my kin style; the Wilraine people, especially if from the citadel, seemed to enjoy this style the same as some would look at the jungle, a bewildering with the wild and animalistic, foreigner, almost as if we were beasts living in the wild for them, almost as if they were visiting a zoo.

I brush my hair, up and down..

I like this style however, especially with so many tones of red and dark oak wood, is warm and comforting, the wooden ceiling, the paper doors opening sideways, the furniture on the floor, no chairs, only pillows, all in the most traditional way of my people, the Shinzaki.

And to add to the… oddity as one may say there are the girls, or rather, the boys, a place to taste something new, something out of the ordinary, something much more… mystical, wild, different.

We lay on four for a tip of their money.

I put the brush down, fingers reaching out for the incenses on the side, like a reader on a library brushing along their labels until I chose one of them, and as soon as I light one a sweet flowery smell drifts in the air.

Only after walking around the room and letting the smoke coat the wood with its smell I put it down inside a phoenix statue on the side, making so that smoke came out from its beak from the inside, giving life to the cold stone.

I stop once more in front of the mirror to use some perfume, but once I push the lapel aside a frown appears on my face as my fingers reach out and trace a bite mark that I had not seen on my neck, but before I could inquire more one of my girls calls out to me, the outline of a kneeling person appearing right behind my door.

“A black card has arrived Madam.” I blink away from the mirror and walking towards her.

“Thank you, you girls know what to do, chop chop.” I say before taking it from her hands and shushing her out with the letter, closing the door soon after.

The card itself has nothing special in it, only the texture of a phoenix engraved over without a color, no need to call unwanted attention, even more because of what it was used for.

I can imagine who send it, even more after last night, but still I go to my drawer and take my blindfold off, choosing the red one among the others and covering my sight in a familiar manner, walking out of my room and strolling with confidence along these walls until the backroom, every turn, every corner known of me for long.

The guest is already in, I can tell by the breathing, and as I close the paper door behind me the shishi odoshi, the bamboo fountain, fills with water and with a bang hits the stone underneath it, a peaceful constant sound at the background.

“Welcome to the Phoenix Nest honorable guest. Would you fancy some tea?” I ask, softly motioning with my hands where I knew the tea set had been prepared, but I do not wait for an answer as it was normal for this type of VIP anonymous guest to not want to show their appearance nor speak, having their identities completely nameless, even more for having a separated room, entrance, and only blindfolded girls walking around.

I sit down.

Pulling my clothing under my kneels I knell down in front of the set, the heat from the kettle indicating me where it is as I reach out for my wooden tools, firstly taking the warm lid off from the kettle with a small cloth and filling with the warm water one of the tools that had a little bucked like part at the end, only to drip the water softly inside a bowl.

At first I take and mix the water inside, discarding that water soon after, all smooth and harmonious with the intention of getting rid of any impurities, inside their bodies as well as in the instruments used, a ceremony of purity and clarity.

I reach for another instrument, this time scooping up a green powder made by us previously, and releasing it in the bowl, only to scoop more hot water for it, this time mixing the powder with the liquid until they are completely mixed together, bubbles rising with the smell of fresh-made tea, an art on itself, a traditional ceremony of my people, adapted to serve the most exigent costumers, and trained to exhaustion by their blinded hosts.

“Hope you enjoy our fresh green tea.” I say, cupping the bowl with my hands and bending forward in a half bow as I deliver it to our guest, feeling the weight leave my hand as I go back to my previous posture.

“…You can take the blindfold off.”

I would be taken back if any of my other costumers said such words, especially after retiring from the servant’s life and taking charge of the place, making small exceptions with only the most powerful and important guests that wanted to speak to me directly.

Or with friends.

With a smile I reach for the cloth and take it out, revealing a kneeling sitting figure in front of me, as always so stern and straight, his blue eyes shining against the soft mixture of darkness and light that adds to the coziness of such inviting place.

“As good as is it seeing an old friend, I bet you have something you wish from me to come without notice like this…” I say, pouring one bowl of tea for myself since I knew he probably came here to have some sort of information, not calling him by his name as a rule we have with special black card guests; even the walls won’t know who walked by them. He sips his tea first, then says:

“I want to know about your attack last night.”

I put the bowl down, tasting the aftertaste of the tea before saying with a smile:

“This will be a long conversation then.”