Imagawa Ori bit her lip, unease spreading through her heart.
Could something have happened at the club?
Or had that new lowlife, Ishikawa Takakage, pulled some petty trick behind her back?
He had been eyeing the top spot all along, and his methods were despicable.
If he had stopped the car…
No, impossible.
The manager was a smart man. He knew Nakamori-san would never take a liking to any of the men in the club, and he knew she was the one in the club best at pleasing lonely women.
The cold wind scraped across her face like knives.
Imagawa Ori knew she couldn’t just keep waiting like this.
She turned and walked toward a tobacco and sundries shop not far behind her.
Shops like this usually had a public phone. Drop in a ten-yen coin, and you could buy three minutes of call time.
Enough to figure out what was going on.
Imagawa Ori pushed open the glass door.
She fished a ten-yen coin out of her handbag, inserted it into the pink public telephone, then turned the dial.
“Hello, Kagura Club.”
From the other end came the clamor of music in the background and the manager’s slightly weary voice.
“It’s me, Imagawa.” Imagawa Ori gripped the receiver tightly, suppressing both her voice and her anger.
“Where’s the car? Yamamoto still hasn’t come?”
“I’ve been standing here in the cold wind for forty minutes!”
“Do you want me to freeze to death on the roadside, or do you want Nakamori-san to get tired of waiting and leave?”
“Huh?” The manager was instantly stunned by her questioning and froze for a moment.
“Imagawa-kun, you haven’t gotten in the car yet?”
“I even specifically told Yamamoto that because of the snow and the slippery roads, he should get to the entrance of Matsunoya early and wait for you!”
“He drove the car out of the garage at eight-thirty.”
It didn’t sound like he was lying. Besides, at a critical moment like this, the manager couldn’t possibly be putting on an act.
Leaving the top earner standing outside?
Was he out of his mind, trying to sabotage the club’s takings?
Imagawa Ori took a deep breath and calmed herself down.
From Ginza-dori in Chiyoda-machi, where Kagura Club was located, to this ryotei, Matsunoya, it was usually only a ten-minute drive if you pressed the accelerator.
Even if the heavy snow had blocked the roads tonight, Yamamoto was an old driver with twenty years behind the wheel. He could have found his way across the bridge over the Tone River with his eyes closed.
“Has Yamamoto contacted the club?”
“No.”
“Then has Nakamori-san arrived?”
“She has. She arrived ten minutes ago. She brought two very large suitcases tonight, both full of cash.”
“Then stop wasting words and send another car over.”
“Th-that… there are no cars left at the club. They’re all being used to pick up and drop off customers. Even if I wanted to come get you, I can’t get away right now.”
As he spoke, the manager glanced into the club.
That glance was no small matter—it nearly made the phone in his hand fall to the floor.
Through the receiver, Imagawa Ori heard the manager’s breathing suddenly turn rapid, followed by a suppressed, “Bastard.”
“This is bad, bad. Something’s going to happen.” The manager’s voice was trembling slightly.
Then he spoke into the phone at top speed. “Ah, that idiot Ishikawa—he’s carrying a bottle of wine and sidling up to Nakamori-san right now!”
“Imagawa-san, hurry up and think of a way to get here.”
“I’m hanging up!”
With that, before Imagawa Ori could even ask a question, all she heard was the beeping tone of the disconnected call.
“Ah, damn it!”
She slammed the receiver back onto the phone, then turned and pushed open the door of the sundries shop.
The snow outside had grown even heavier.
A moment ago, it had still been fine, broken pellets of snow. Now it had turned into great goose-feather flakes, swept up by the wild wind and dancing all across the sky. Everywhere the eye could see was a vast, blinding white.
……
Inside Kagura Club, the crystal chandelier scattered a hazy light.
In the booth area, Ishikawa Takakage held a freshly opened bottle of Dom Pérignon, a smile he thought charming hanging on his face.
He straightened his bow tie.
His chance had come.
Nakamori Sachiko had already been here for ten minutes, while Imagawa Nao—her stage name—still hadn’t shown so much as a shadow.
This was the moment for him to slip in while there was an opening.
Everyone else in the club said Nakamori Sachiko was only interested in Imagawa Nao, who dressed as a man, but he didn’t believe it.
A woman was still a woman.
There was no such thing as an absolute orientation. It was simply that she had yet to meet a man who could conquer her—especially someone like Nakamori Sachiko, who was right in the prime of her desires.
Ishikawa Takakage had confidence in himself.
Nakamori Sachiko was sitting in the booth, her expression extremely ugly. On the table in front of her were two aluminum alloy cases used to hold money.
At that, no one could resist swallowing hard.
“Good evening, Nakamori-san.”
Ishikawa Takakage bent slightly at the waist, putting on a gentlemanly posture.
He lowered his voice, adding a touch of magnetism to it. “Imagawa-kun may have been held up by something. I was afraid you’d be lonely, so shall I accompany you for a drink?”
Nakamori Sachiko lifted her eyelids and glanced at him coldly.
She was in a foul mood.
Tonight, she had originally planned to use money to dazzle Imagawa Nao senseless and fulfill the wish she hadn’t been able to achieve last time. Once her desire was satisfied, she could find a new favorite again next year.
The women she had cast aside had been abandoned precisely because she had already obtained them.
But what was the result?
Imagawa Nao still hadn’t come even now, just leaving her sitting here like this?
What was the meaning of this?
Did she think Nakamori Sachiko’s money was so easy to earn that there was no need to put any thought into maintaining her favor?
The humiliation of being so recklessly neglected and set aside had been circling in her heart, making her grit her teeth.
And yet, for some reason, it instead sent an indescribable tingling numbness through the insides of her thighs…
She couldn’t help clamping her legs together.
Of course, on the surface, Nakamori Sachiko still wore an expression of irritation and impatience.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Ishikawa. I’m new here.”
Ishikawa Takakage was not frightened off by her coldness. Instead, he moved another step closer.
“Nakamori-san, getting angry will give you wrinkles.”
“Tonight should be a happy occasion. Why not let me serve you?”
As he spoke, he raised the bottle of wine in his hand, indicating that he wanted to pour.
Nakamori Sachiko narrowed her eyes and looked at the attendant in front of her.
Indeed, he had a decent face, a little like a popular idol star. He was probably very good at pleasing women, and ordinary women would likely find it hard to refuse the words that came out of his mouth.
It made her feel nauseated.
What she liked was the cool, aloof air Imagawa Nao had, that faint sense of distance, that abstinent quality as if she stood apart from the mortal world.
Not this sort of trash that came sniffing over like a male dog in heat.
“Oh?” And yet she beckoned with her hand. “Since you want to serve me so badly, come over and pour.”
Ishikawa Takakage was wild with joy inside.
As expected!
The rumors were all fake!
Only likes women? It had to be Imagawa Nao? What a joke!
As long as he took the initiative, wouldn’t a resentful woman like this be easily taken in?
“Yes, it would be my honor.”
He quickly stepped forward, knelt on one knee on the floor, leaned in, and filled the glass with champagne.
His movements were very proper, and very attentive.
“Nakamori-san, please enjoy.”
Ishikawa Takakage picked up the glass and offered it over with both hands, his gaze deep and affectionate.
Nakamori Sachiko took the glass.
She looked at the bubbles constantly rising in the cup, then looked at the expectant face before her.
It really was disgusting.
So she raised the glass and flicked her wrist.
Splash—
The entire glass of cold champagne slowly poured over Ishikawa Takakage’s head.
The pale golden wine flowed down from the hairstyle he had so carefully arranged, running along his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and his cheeks all the way down.
“Nakamori… san?”
Ishikawa Takakage was completely stunned.
But Nakamori Sachiko merely parted her red lips and coldly spat out a few words.
“You think you’re worthy?”
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