The Birth of Venus

By eighteen, Hime had honed her abilities. Observation, deduction, and manipulation became second nature. Her mind was a weapon, sharper than any blade. Doc, ever the cautious guardian, warned her repeatedly of the dangers she was inviting.

"They'll see you coming a mile away if you're reckless," he would grumble, cigarette smoke curling around his head. "You're smart, Hime, but intelligence isn't invincibility."

She had dismissed him with her usual calm, her sharp tongue biting back, "Intelligence is my shield. I don't need invincibility."

It was arrogance, she realized later, but at the time, it felt like confidence. By the time she was twenty-one, the name Venus had become a whisper in Kyouten's underworld—a ghost-like entity that held the city's secrets in her grasp. Her true identity was unknown, her methods feared. Some said Venus was an organization; others swore it was a singular, elusive figure. Hime cultivated the myth carefully, knowing that the truth was far more fragile than the legend.

..........................

That same year, she set her sights on Lysander Vorn 1st, the infamous chairman of the Vorn Group. His reputation as a predator who manipulated and exploited the vulnerable preceded him. Hime had no illusions about the man; he was vile, powerful, and untouchable—or so he believed.

The ball at Takeda Manor was her opportunity. Under the alias "Clara," she disguised herself with a golden blonde wig, styled to perfection, and an elegant, form-fitting gown that radiated naive sophistication. Her aim was to be seen, but only as an object of fleeting interest—a pawn, never a threat.

As soon as she entered the grand ballroom, she felt his eyes on her. Lysander Vorn 1st, tall and imposing, exuded an aura of self-assured dominance. His greying hair was slicked back, his sharp suit tailored to perfection. But it was his gaze that set her teeth on edge—a predator sizing up his prey.

"Miss Clara, isn't it?" he drawled, his voice oily and over-familiar as he approached her.

Hime feigned a shy smile, her fingers brushing a loose strand of her blonde wig behind her ear. "Chairman Vorn," she replied, her voice lilting with an air of innocence. "It's such an honor to meet you."

He took her hand, holding it a second too long. "The honor is mine, my dear. And please, call me Lysander."

Her stomach churned, but she kept her composure, allowing him to lead her through the crowd. He paraded her like a trophy, drawing envious glances and hushed whispers. Hime played her part to perfection, laughing at his unremarkable jokes and leaning just close enough to encourage his delusion of control.

But while he flaunted his supposed conquest, Hime observed. She noted the key players he interacted with, the subtle power dynamics that played out in hushed conversations and stolen glances. Every word he spoke, every gesture, was a thread in the web she was weaving.

Later that evening, as the ball began to wind down, Lysander grew bolder. His hand brushed her lower back, his breath too close to her ear as he murmured promises laced with innuendo. Hime endured it, her mind a storm of calculations. She had gathered what she needed.

"I must say goodnight," she said finally, her voice sweet but firm. "But I do hope to see you again, Chairman."

He smirked, his hand lingering on hers. "Oh, you will, my dear. You will."

Hime left the ball with a mixture of triumph and disgust. She had what she came for—enough information to dismantle the man piece by piece. But as she slipped into the shadows, the memory of his touch made her skin crawl.

..........................

Back at her safehouse, Hime combed through her findings. Lysander's arrogance had been his greatest weakness. Among the secrets she had uncovered was a damning connection to Belligium Inc., whose chairman nursed a deep, personal vendetta against Lysander. Years ago, Lysander had courted the man's daughter, a much younger woman, and her tragic death under suspicious circumstances had been swept under the rug.

Hime made a single call from a burner phone, her voice altered but her words precise. "Tomorrow night, 9 PM, Takeda Manor. The time and place of his downfall. Consider it a gift."

She hung up before the man on the other end could respond. The simplicity of it was almost anticlimactic. All she had to do was provide the seed; the chaos would bloom on its own.

The day after tomorrow, the news broke: Lysander Vorn 1st, chairman of the Vorn Group, had died in a tragic accident. The details were murky, but the whispers were not. Power had shifted, and Venus had been the silent hand guiding the fall.

Hime had smiled faintly at the news, but unease lingered. The rush of power was intoxicating, but the cost weighed heavily. It was the first—and last—time she orchestrated a direct reckoning. She vowed never to cross that line again.

..........................

Hime's eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming with soft, diffused light. The room slowly came into focus—a delicate interplay of muted tones and warm shadows. The faint scent of cedarwood and cologne wrapped around her like a fragile tether to the present, grounding her against the remnants of her fractured memories. She knew this place immediately: Kazuki's mansion. Its understated elegance and precise order were unmistakable, just like the man who owned it.

A quiet voice cut through the haze, low and steady, brimming with unspoken relief. "You're awake."

Her head turned slowly toward the sound, and her gaze found his. Kazuki sat beside her, his frame tense yet still, as if he had been there for hours without moving. His dark eyes bore into her with a sharp intensity that made her chest tighten, their depth revealing not just concern but a storm of emotions he wasn't ready to voice. The sight of him—so steady, so present—sent a rush of warmth through her, momentarily easing the ache in her body.

Hime tried to speak, her voice a whisper that barely escaped her lips. "I thought…"

Kazuki leaned closer, his expression softening in a way that felt almost out of character. "You're safe now," he said, his words carrying a quiet reassurance that seemed to settle in her very bones.

The weight of those words hit her like a wave, and she let her head fall back against the pillow. The mattress beneath her felt impossibly soft, an indulgent contrast to the chaos she had escaped. Her body, battered and worn, begged for rest, but her mind raced, replaying the flood of memories and the events that had brought her here.

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the cedarwood that clung to the air. Relief coursed through her veins, unfamiliar and disorienting. She didn't allow herself to feel this way—vulnerable, reliant. And yet, Kazuki's presence, his quiet, unwavering strength, was an anchor she hadn't realized she needed.

"I thought I'd lost it," she murmured, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

"Lost what?" Kazuki asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Control," she admitted, her tone tinged with weariness and a hint of something else—fear. "I never lose control."

Kazuki's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over hers before finally settling lightly atop it. The warmth of his touch was grounding, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone in this moment.

"You don't have to hold everything together all the time," he said quietly, his words both gentle and firm. "Not here."

Her breath caught, and she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze once more. There was something in his expression that left her undone—a softness she hadn't expected, a care that felt too heavy to bear but impossible to dismiss. Relief, warmth, and a strange sense of safety filled her, emotions so foreign she didn't know how to name them. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she simply held his gaze, letting the silence say what she couldn't.

Kazuki remained by her side, his posture tense yet protective, as though he could shield her from everything that had led them here. The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn't empty. It was charged, heavy with everything they wouldn't say aloud.

As Hime let her eyes drift shut once more, her breathing evened out, the tension in her body slowly ebbing away. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to let go, to feel the fragile comfort of another's presence.

Kazuki didn't move, his sharp eyes never leaving her face. Relief flickered in his chest, but it was accompanied by something deeper—something he wasn't ready to name. Watching her now, vulnerable yet still so undeniably Hime, he felt a quiet resolve settle within him.

The storm outside had passed, but both of them knew the quiet wouldn't last. Still, for now, there was this moment. And it was enough.