𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑪𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 |니키˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

0.8🦢

Japan ; Okayama ;  5-5-2026

The next morning came too quickly, the thin rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains waking me before the alarm could. I felt restless, my mind still tangled in the events of the previous evening. Riki hadn't blown my cover yet, but the tension was building, and I could feel the tightrope I was walking growing thinner with every interaction.

After a quick shower, I pulled myself together, slipping back into the role of Moran Lee, the historian. I dressed simply—professional, but not too flashy. It was crucial to keep up the illusion of a curious academic, digging into the history of the Nishimura family without arousing suspicion.

I grabbed my notebook and headed out, my destination clear: the Nishimura estate. I had to see Riki again, but this time, the goal was different. I needed to get closer to him, closer to the heart of the family's secrets, and closer to the Dragon's Tear.

As I made my way to the estate, I mentally rehearsed my approach. The goal was to find the balance between piquing his interest and keeping his suspicions at bay. Riki was smart—too smart to let something slip easily. But I had my own tools, my own way of pushing without seeming like I was.

When I arrived, the guards at the gate barely glanced at me as they let me through. By now, they knew "Dr. Moran Lee," the historian researching the Nishimura family's cultural legacy. Riki had given me enough access that my presence was no longer questioned, which worked to my advantage. But I knew it was a double-edged sword. The more I learned, the closer I got to Riki, the more dangerous it became.

Inside, I was greeted by one of the house staff, who led me to the sitting room. It wasn't long before Riki appeared, looking as sharp as ever. His tailored suit and calm demeanor masked the dangerous edge lurking beneath the surface. His gaze found mine as soon as he entered, and I felt that familiar pull—an odd mix of wariness and intrigue.

"Dr. Lee," he greeted me with a faint smile, though his eyes remained guarded. "Back so soon? I assume you have more questions."

I returned his smile, keeping my tone light. "I do. The more I learn about your family, the more I find myself fascinated by the depth of its history. There are so many layers—especially when it comes to the Dragon's Tear."

Riki studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Fascination can be a dangerous thing. Especially when it comes to objects like the Tear."

I tilted my head, playing along. "I suppose that depends on how one approaches it. You said last night that the Tear amplifies traits, like greed or ambition. But what about loyalty? Honor?"

Riki chuckled softly, a sound that was both amused and cynical. "Honor?" He took a seat across from me, his eyes darkening. "In this world, honor is just another tool. It can be bought, twisted, used to manipulate. The Tear doesn't care about honor. It reflects power. That's all."

I nodded, taking in his words. "And you've seen this firsthand."

"I have," he replied, his voice growing quieter. "My father believed that power was the only thing that mattered. He used the Tear as a symbol, yes, but he was blind to its real effect. It consumed him."

I hesitated before speaking again, carefully choosing my words. "But you haven't fallen into the same trap. You've kept the Tear, but it hasn't consumed you. Why?"

Riki's eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite read. For a moment, it seemed like he might deflect the question, but then he surprised me.