Game Without Limits

They moved westward, where the massive stone corridors gradually gave way to more refined and elegant interiors. The ceilings, adorned with intricately carved wooden panels, exuded a sense of harmony and warmth. Pale walls framed by dark lacquered beams imparted a touch of classical Japanese austerity. Through the open shoji paper screens, the soft rays of the setting sun spilled into the corridors, bathing them in a warm, golden glow. Tatami mats, smelling faintly of fresh grass, stretched beneath their feet. It was a world so foreign and surreal that the Fujiwara family felt as if they had stepped into another realm.
"You must be tired, especially after a day like this," Shigero said, glancing over his shoulder as he walked ahead with confident strides. "I'm used to this kind of pace, but for you, I imagine it's been exhausting. Let's rest and enjoy a meal in my quarters. What do you think?"
His words felt more like a statement than a question. No one dared to disagree.
At last, they arrived at a spacious suite. Sliding open the shoji, Shigero gestured for them to enter. The room before them was breathtakingly elegant. It was furnished in a traditional Japanese style, yet the opulence on display was far beyond what even the wealthiest families could typically afford. The walls were adorned with ukiyo-e paintings, depicting mountains, blooming sakura, and scenes from ancient epics. In one corner, within a tokonoma alcove, stood an Edo-era vase adorned with intricate crane motifs.
At the center of the room sat a low lacquered table surrounded by plush zabuton cushions. The table was already laden with food, and the sight of it left everyone momentarily speechless. Even Takatsu, accustomed to extravagance, raised an eyebrow in silent amazement.
On elongated porcelain trays lay dishes that defied the imagination. Delicately arranged slices of fugu were prepared in three different styles: fried, boiled, and raw. Beside them rested a platter of beluga caviar speckled with gold flakes. Another plate held a thick slice of wagyu beef, seared to perfection. Its aroma was so rich and enticing that it seemed to saturate the air itself.
A separate lacquered board displayed sushi rolls crafted with almost surgical precision, garnished with thin slices of fresh tuna and avocado. Tiny bowls of miso soup, garnished with delicate flower petals, sat opposite the rolls. Among this feast were rarer delights: a Japanese tamagoyaki omelet infused with truffle oil and sweet bean paste pastries dusted with silver powder.
"This... this is incredible," Naoko murmured, instinctively reaching for a plate but quickly pulling her hand back as if afraid to ruin the pristine arrangement.
"You won't find delicacies like these even in our circles," Takatsu muttered, visibly impressed by the lavish spread.
Before they could fully take in the sight, a group of women entered the room. Clad in luxurious kimonos embroidered with cranes and blooming sakura, their movements were as graceful as those of seasoned geishas. Without a sound, they gestured for the guests to take their seats.
Once everyone was seated, one of the women began pouring drinks into delicate porcelain cups. It was sake, but not just any sake—it was aged for decades, with faint notes of sweet rice and a subtle fruity finish. The aroma filled the room, adding to the atmosphere of warmth and comfort.
"This is... extraordinary," Ayana finally broke the silence, cautiously lifting her cup as though afraid to spill even a drop.
"Quiet now. Savor the moment," Takatsu said softly, though he, too, was clearly taken aback.
At that moment, Shigero returned to the room, now dressed in traditional kimono attire. The change in his appearance was striking. Where he had previously worn a simple headband, his eyes were now obscured by elegant, dark-tinted glasses. Their slim, weightless design radiated an air of luxury, as though they had been custom-made solely for him.
The glasses instantly transformed Shigero's demeanor. They didn't just conceal his gaze—they veiled his very essence. His expression became unreadable, his smile more enigmatic.
"I see you've noticed my choice," he said with a faint smirk, adjusting the glasses with deliberate nonchalance, as if inviting them to take a closer look. "I thought it was time for a change."
Takatsu frowned slightly, scrutinizing this new accessory. He couldn't shake the feeling that Shigero was deliberately amplifying his aura of mystery.
"Glasses?" Naoko finally broke the silence, raising an eyebrow. "That's... unexpected."
"Sometimes, change is necessary, Lady Fujiwara," Shigero replied, his tone calm but tinged with an unshakable confidence. "In our world, perception is everything. And often, a single detail is all it takes to command respect... or fear."
His words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Naoko instinctively ran a hand over her hair, as if to ensure everything was in place. Ayana glanced at her father, seeking his reaction, but Takatsu remained silent, his eyes narrowing as if lost in thought.
"To be honest," Shigero added, breaking the tension, "I simply grew tired of the headband obstructing my view. The glasses are much more practical."
The lightheartedness of his remark drew faint smiles from everyone, though no one dared to probe further. Shigero took his seat at the head of the table, sipped his sake, and signaled for the geishas to continue serving the dishes.
But Takatsu couldn't shake the sense that there was more to this change than met the eye. It wasn't just about fashion or practicality—every gesture, every word seemed meticulously calculated. Shigero wasn't simply presenting himself; he was crafting an image, shaping how others perceived him, and asserting his dominance in the most subtle yet undeniable ways.
Still, Takatsu forced himself to relax. You deserve a moment's peace. Let it go, just for now, he thought, banishing his suspicions.
Author's Note
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