Satou Saiki K Novels & Stories

“Just us.” Breakfast waited in the same serene dining room as before. Low table, floor cushions, the gentle clink of porcelain against lacquer. Sakura wore pale lavender today, her hair pinned with a single jade comb shaped like a crane. Haruto sat at the head in quiet charcoal, already reviewing something on a slim tablet while sipping matcha. Dante,black cashmere sweater, dark jeans, sleeves pushed to his elbows, settled beside me, one hand resting casually on my thigh beneath the table the moment we knelt.

” “Yes, ma’am, you did.” “This is Adonis's good friend Aiko, visiting us from Japan. She heard he had made it back from London and was here in the States visiting for business, so she dropped by to welcome him home. Aiko, this is Safira.” Aiko strolled up to Safira checking her out from head to toe. “Yes, I know who she is. Adonis spoke about you when he visited me in Japan. Nice to meet you, Safira.”

Author's POV Satou Hiroshi was a name known throughout the world for his technological prowess, the owner of a giant technology company that had become a benchmark for founders of similar companies. He was still in his early forties, wears glasses, and has a tall, sturdy build that made him admired not only for his quality of life but also for his physical appearance. However, people’s admiration was not directed specifically at his good looks, but rather at his position as the world’s leading technology mentor.

he corrected, glancing pointedly at her name tag as if to emphasize his familiarity with formalities. Dryzza’s lips curved into a small, almost mocking smile. “Hmm,” she hummed nonchalantly, brushing off his correction with practiced ease. Sai took the opportunity to step forward, offering a polite smile to diffuse the subtle tension building between them. “Good evening, Dr. Takahashi,” he greeted warmly, extending a hand. “I’m Detective Saito Hamada. We’ve met before—at your house, if you recall.” Takumi accepted the handshake with a polite nod. “Ah, yes. Good evening, Detective Hamada.”

Meanwhile, Karina just surrendered when Susan pulled her. Inside the building, everyone was already sitting in their respective chairs. Karina took a seat in the far corner. Susan had already walked over to Saka who was sitting with Edo. Edo was Saka's old friend. Edo was as nerdy as Saka. The difference was, Edo never glowed up. The man still wore thick glasses with his shirt tucked in. “Hi,” said Susan, sitting next to Saka. Her eyes lit up as if she had met her future husband. “I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”

She was not letting Jun go. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming under such short notice. The Satou Clan is honored to be having your friendship and support especially during these hard times where we were shocked with such shocking acts of betrayal and tragedy…” Akagi-sama began talking and there was a wave of whispers around the rooms probably wondering why would the clan’s head be mentioning something taboo so openly and in the presence of strangers within the gathering,

The Kimono looks awfully familiar though. “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I wouldn’t be here if the matter isn’t important.” The guy said. Saeko didn't falter. “The Young Lord Fudo of the Shizuka family.” Saeko said with a serious business-like tone. "It is quite rude to enter the Heir Apparent's residence without prior notice." She said. “Tell your master that I am here to fulfill a promise that Shiratori Ryusaki has promised to fulfill.” “What promise? Ryusaki-sama has died years ago. There is no promise he can fulfill.” she said.

A name. Sakava.

Carlino did not slow. His thumb brushed once against my back. A silent warning. We approached a long semicircle of seats at the front of the hall. Five men already sat there, each one radiating authority in a different, dangerous way. I recognized them from the names I had overheard. Kenji Sato sat with perfect posture, hands folded over a silver-topped cane. His expression was calm, unreadable, like a man who missed nothing. Beside him was Ruggero, mid thirties, thick-shouldered, his scarred hands resting on the table in front of him like blunt weapons.