I'm done blackmailing her.

You exhale and shake your head, too tired to think. The **** with Sasha feels pointless in the face of Mikka and Sachio, and your interest in Akiko is more than just a fling. She shifts her weight, her annoyance sparking your own.

Beneath the room’s dim light, her ponytail sways, her brown eyes glaring. “No,” you say, voice low and final. “I’m tired of you.”

Sasha flinches, your hostility cutting deep. “Over?”

“Yes, we’re through. This ends here,” you slump onto the bed, neck craning. “This just blocks what I’m doing.”

She nods, eyes darting aside. “Going to chase proof on Mikka without a break? Unless you’ve found another girl to burn off steam.”

“Something like that,” you murmur, meeting her gaze. “Still don’t believe me?”

All she does is frown and shrug, unsure. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she speaks. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to imagine one of our own preying on dancers. Especially from you, the **** king.”

“You’re a cheater,” you snap. “On someone decent, no less. And you’re surprised another RTE guy might be up to no good?”

Sasha’s eyes blaze with hate. “And you’re a contractor with a sudden moral code. Will you still chase Mikka when his offers get juicy? If this is true, I bet you’ll flip and play dumb.”

“That’s rich,” you growl, looking away.

“What if Mikka offers you a deal with the girl?” She scoffs. “Contractors love forbidden flesh, don’t they?”

Akiko flashes in your mind, but you stay stone-faced, her blind jab missing the mark. “Any love in this line of work is forbidden,” you say, locking eyes. “Anyone you love becomes a target, leaving bad news for everyone.”

Sasha gives no tell. “You sound soft.”

“I know from experience,” you murmur, old losses flickering—Delilah’s teal eyes at Tiny’s, a friend not lover, still alive somewhere, but others before her, dead and gone. “Don’t bother me again, unless you’ve got something useful. Got that?”

“Big words from someone who could get fired. If RTE cuts you loose, you’re no contractor—just a stray. Easy to kill, easy to dump. Got that?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Careful how you tread. I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t dirty RTE’s name. If you chase Mikka, don’t get caught—strays get no shield.” She storms out, door slamming.

The slam reverberates in your head, even as you flop back on your bed with your eyes closed. After a few breaths, you squint at your Mauser and Jäger nearby, then beside your nightside nightstand is the Glock. Your new work sidearm reminds you of Akiko and all the weight that involves her. Mikka, Sachio, Kenji—all of it. Then you exhale sigh. “Delilah,” you whisper, missing her conversations and then thinking what could have been. You feel guilty for leaving her behind at Tiny’s Tavern. Maybe you had gone soft.

“Forbidden loves,” you exhale murmur, rolling to your side, recalling Delilah and the other faces. Some dead. Others gone. Akiko deserved better.

Morning breaks, and you roll out of bed for a day at work. Katana Arts Studio hums with more routine. You patrol hallways and occasionally watch the troupe’s practice, sometimes making eye contact with Akiko as she smirks after doing a flawless run—the clash of Western classics with the Japanese perfection.

Akiko glides center stage. She’s angelic as everyone watches. The soft thumps, joined by the music, create a strange silence in the room, the stigma of “gaijin" is lost to even among peers. Sachio’s slender frame lingers closely nearby as she rests with the others, watching. However, when When you see her, you tense and look around your side of the room, off the stage—the guards were lean against chairs, smoking and chatting, if not watching.

You spot Kenji lingering near the edge of the box seats above, barely a shadow in his suit as he watched the performance Perhaps distracted from his original patrol or his own agenda.

The other dancers join Akiko for the next scene, disrupting the room with more stomps on the stage. The music suddenly jumps in speed as more instruments join the classic, nameless tune. You go back to resume your job, getting back on track focus sharpening.

As dusk falls, the studio starts to empty. Akiko catches you on your way out, but keeps it casual; the desire in her eyes matches yours. You want to throw away your professionalism aside and invite her for drinks, make plans, or even dare a visit to sneak to her room. But you don’t. You **** yourself with small talk, and pretend there was no sex, and there are no feelings.

During dinner, you sit at a table. You’re joined briefly by Kenji, he asks if you noticed anything or have gathered more information, but when he learns you haven't he nods and leaves. Then McKinley shares some banter with his unfaithful wife, The room narrows out, leaving you to eat uninterrupted peace until Scarlet suddenly slips into your booth. She looks expressionless and dull. Her sharp blue eyes were are colder than the snow outside.

“Well?” you say, after a whole minute goes by passes without a word.

“Nothing,” she says. “I followed him around in at the studio. Followed him around outside the studio. Nothing.”

“You going to give up then and say there’s no need to worry?”

She makes a face. “Of course not, just keeping you posted.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, poking the last cut of meat on your plate. “Did you hear anything unusual?”

“I said nothing, didn't I? I think you ought to do something to spark some kind of activity push him. Maybe speed up the process? Get Mikka to trip up somewhere. Something to get him to try something Flush him out.”

“And what do you propose?” Your brows knit as you chew.

Scarlet leans forward, her blonde hair catching dim lamps. “Mikka’s too careful,” she says. “He’s playing clean since you turned down his bribe. But contractors are seen as greedy. Go back to him, fake taking his bribe. I doubt he’s broadcasting his desires—that much you got wrong.”

A flash of faces crosses your mind—Akiko among them, the risk if this backfires. Sasha’s “strays get no shield” warning from last night snags, dirtying RTE’s name a **** sentence. “That’s risky,” you say after a swallow. “What if it backfires and I’m gutted?”

Scarlet shrugs, her blue eyes flicking across the room. “Either you try, or we let this smolder and worsen while we sit. Sachio’s young and naive—she might wander alone, no telling what she’ll stumble into.”

“I’ll consider it,” you sigh, not ready to fully agree. You’d rather find other options, ones less likely to burn yourself. “Anything else?”

Scarlet shakes her head. “No. Means little overall—make of it what you will. Keep your head straight, yeah?”

Just as she came, she slips out fast. Leaving you to finish your dinner, now cold… You trudge back to your room, thoughts churning, organizing your gear.