Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 87: Paradise (11)

Dragon Raja 3

“You’re not left-handed, so wielding a knife in your right hand should be convenient.” Sakurai Kogure whispered in his ear as she handed Nakamura the drawn knife.

Nakamura stood there blankly, staring at the woman he had once loved enough to die for—the woman who had ruined his family. His face contorted in a grotesque and terrifying manner, alternating between looking like an enraged demon and a wronged child. Sakurai Kogure and the black-clad man stepped out of the room, locking the door behind them. Nakamura listened as her crisp high heels clicked away, and soon, it was just him and his wife. His mind was filled with red and white: red from his mother’s blood as she coughed on her deathbed, and white from the pure wedding kimono his wife had worn at their wedding.

“I really wish we could have left that Nakamura Hideki in that room as well,” the man whispered behind Sakurai Kogure.

“Don’t harm customers unless absolutely necessary! They’re our golden geese,” Sakurai Kogure said sternly.

“Understood, I will restrain myself. It just disgusts me to see such cowardly men. Betrayed by a woman to the point of losing everything, yet willing to risk his life to take revenge on everyone except the real culprit. If there was no love from the start, the only thing he clings to is that woman’s body,” the man said. “Men like him, after we leave, will probably throw the knife aside, tear off the woman’s clothes, and beg her for affection, right?”

“No, he will kill her. I’m certain of it,” Sakurai Kogure smiled.

“Are you that confident, Miss Sakurai?”

“When he made his request, he was still a weak man, but now he has seen the beauty of power. He used to grovel before that woman like a slave, but when he realizes that she is now the one at his mercy, her life and death in his hands, he won’t care for her anymore,” Sakurai Kogure said calmly.

They walked a few more steps before the sound of a woman’s dying screams echoed behind them, reverberating endlessly down the narrow hallway.

“Oh my, is Mr. Mitsui here again? Please allow me to serve you tonight.”

“And Mr. Daita is also here! Was the money you won last time not satisfying enough? I see you’ve brought an even larger money box tonight.”

“Prepare two servings of Shirakawa whiskey for Mr. Ichimura, with a single ice cube.”

Stepping out of the elevator and back into the casino hall, Sakurai Kogure instantly became the center of attention. She trotted forward, greeting familiar patrons with a sweet smile on her face. It was as if she were running her own tavern, the charming young proprietress. The regulars knew that getting on her good side could earn them special treatment, and Kogure was so captivating that they couldn’t help but fall under her spell. They said Sakurai Kogure was like chilled sweet wine—you could never dislike her, and eventually, you’d find yourself lost in the depths of her cool sweetness.

“The Tokyo stars have come out tonight to show their support. Perhaps one of them might catch your fancy? If so, Elysium House will make your wish come true.” Sakurai Kogure whispered with a charming smile to Masuda Shigeru, the executive director of Mitsubishi Heavy Industries.

Masuda Shigeru gently stroked Sakurai Kogure’s hand. “I’m not really interested in celebrities. What I do want, though, is time alone with the proprietress.”

“Me?” Sakurai Kogure laughed alluringly. “I’m merely working behind the scenes. How could someone like me be worthy of being one of your wishes?”

“But I do have a soft spot for women in uniforms,” Masuda Shigeru said, emboldened by the alcohol he had consumed.

“Women like me work until late at night. If you’re still sober then, Mr. Masuda, I could invite you to ‘Thousand Cherry Blossoms’ on the second floor for a late-night snack,” she replied coyly.

“Miss Sakurai, you are as cunning as a red fox.” Masuda Shigeru wisely released her hand, noticing the black-clad man behind her had veins bulging on his forehead.

At Elysium House, there were a few wishes no one dared make, apart from something as ridiculous as “a night with the Prime Minister.” One such untouchable wish was “a night with Kogure.” Everyone wondered how such a young girl had managed to take charge of such a lavish casino, and they couldn’t help but think she must have been worth an astronomical price. Would making such a wish lead to an outrageous cost being quoted, or would the person simply vanish from the world? No one knew.

“Miss Sakurai, an urgent fax from the General.” Her secretary weaved through the crowd and handed her a black document.

Sakurai Kogure’s smile suddenly vanished. She politely bowed to the prestigious guests and walked toward the elevator in the center of the hall, its door adorned with gold leaf. The elevator required a keycard to open, and there were rumors about where it led—some said it went to the most luxurious suite, others claimed it led to the casino’s vault, while others still believed it went to Sakurai Kogure’s own bedroom.

The elevator door opened, and Sakurai Kogure stepped into the Japanese-style suite on the top floor of Elysium House. She removed her high heels inside the elevator, her footsteps silent on the tatami mats.

The suite had a tatami-covered floor and was separated into sections by traditional white paper screens. The windows were open, allowing moonlight to flood the room. By a pale wooden screen stood a few small tables, with a white porcelain vase on one of them. In the vase was a single unbloomed branch of peach blossom. A pale, almost translucent hand reached for the blossom, securing it into long, glossy black hair like a hairpin, revealing a neck as white as jade.

“Fatigue, fatigue, a hairpin as proof,

Gifted in the past by the Emperor;

Memories of affection,

Only to repay him for a fleeting favor;

Returning the hairpin, I leave my worries to Linqiong,

As the weak waters of the Three Rivers flow east,

The clouds and sunset turn red once more;

The moon’s reflection has long since disappeared,

And the road ahead is filled with obstacles;

The way back is lost,

A glance behind leads only to emptiness.”

The figure moved through the moonlight while singing, the voice like an ancient painting. Draped across the figure’s shoulders was a deep crimson kimono embroidered with large spider lilies—Manjushage, as they are also called—red as fresh blood, stark against his pale white skin. The song was that of a woman, but it was sung by a man. When he moved, his waist appeared as slender as a white cord, and his shoulders were so delicate that his gender was easily forgotten. It was a traditional Japanese kabuki performance, though the play was the Chinese-themed “Yang Guifei,” and the lyrics were in Chinese. It was first performed by Bando Tamasaburo, the renowned kabuki actor, who played the role of Yang Guifei.

Contrary to popular belief, real kabuki performances are only performed by men, with men who play female roles called “onnagata.” Kabuki, created by the miko Okuni from Izumo, originally had female actors, and the Edo period’s “prostitute kabuki” involved prostitution. Later, the “youth kabuki,” where young boys played female roles, was associated with homosexual relationships until the advent of “male kabuki,” which turned the art form into a genuine performance. Since then, only adult men could perform. The onnagata spent their lives studying, observing, and imitating women, understanding the beauty of women even better than women themselves—much like how some art critics understand paintings better than the artists who created them. Without relying on beauty, with just their voices and movements, they could enchant audiences.