"Isn't it a little early to poison him?" the woman said, her tone as dry as overcooked turkey, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in suspicion.
Her eyes flicked meaningfully to the small crystal vial Ciry was tucking discreetly back into her designer purse.
"You just got here and you're already trying to kill him for his money? Most gold-diggers at least wait until after the honeymoon phase."
The dining room's overhead lights cast a harsh glow across the marble countertops, highlighting the jar of apple juice that sat between them—now containing a few drops of Ciry's mysterious concoction.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the tense silence, marking each second of their standoff.
Ciry blinked, momentarily startled at being caught, then calmly straightened in her seat like royalty preparing to deliver a TED Talk.
She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her silk top, taking her time to compose herself.
Her eyes flicked to the name tag on the woman's pristine uniform, noting the impeccable stitching and the way she carried herself with military precision.
A longtime employee, then. Someone loyal to Ryu. Dangerous.
"Ava," she said, with chilling politeness that could freeze flames, "I'll have you know I am very comfortable with my own money. I don't need this moron's inheritance."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder with practiced nonchalance, the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist catching the light as she moved.
"My own company alone is worth billions. This marriage is merely... a business arrangement."
She gestured at the jar, still smiling sweetly, her manicured nail tapping against the glass with a soft clink. The amber liquid inside sloshed innocently, betraying no sign of tampering.
"I didn't poison him. I merely added a drop of a little... inconvenience." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, as though sharing gossip at a high society luncheon.
"Just a little something specially designed for men with too much pride... and not enough performance." Her smile widened, sharp as a knife's edge. "It's designed for impotence."
The silence that followed was deafening, as they stared at each other, two predators sizing each other up across the savannah of polished mahogany.
Ava choked on her own gasp, her professional composure cracking for the first time.
Her hand flew to her throat, eyes widening with a mixture of shock and—was that amusement? "Wait—you're saying he doesn't—he can't—he's—" She struggled to find the words, professional decorum warring with gossipy curiosity.
Ciry leaned forward, her voice dropping even lower, forcing Ava to lean in as well. The scent of Ciry's expensive perfume—notes of jasmine—wafted between them. "My dear husband lacks the proper... equipment functionality, shall we say." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, the very picture of calculated innocence.
The kitchen fell silent again as they stared at each other, two predators sizing each other up across the savannah of polished marble. The refrigerator hummed in the background, filling the loaded silence.
Ava gave her a long, judging look, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the young wife's intentions.
Years of service to the Hoshira household had honed her ability to read people, to separate truth from deception. "So, if he drops dead and starts foaming at the mouth, you'll take the fall?"
She crossed her arms, her starched uniform crinkling slightly with the movement. "Because working for the Hoshira family means I know how to kill murderes and dispose of bodies discreetly, Mrs. Hoshira."
The threat hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. The chandelier overhead cast dramatic shadows across Ava's face, highlighting the steel in her gaze.
"Fully," Ciry said, placing a hand dramatically on her chest, not intimidated in the slightest. Her diamond ring caught the light, throwing rainbows across the ceiling.
"Honor among saboteurs." She winked, the gesture somehow both playful and dangerous, like a cat toying with its prey.
Ava sighed, almost impressed by the young woman's audacity. In all her years serving the Hoshira household, she'd never encountered a wife quite like this one.
"I'll check on him in the morning. If he wakes up cranky but breathing, I'll know your alchemy works."
She turned to leave, heels clicking ominously against the imported Italian tile floor, the sound echoing through the cavernous dining room.
At the doorway, she paused, turning back with the precision of a ballet dancer. "But I've got my eyes on you."
The unspoken message was clear: cross the line from mischief to malice, and there would be consequences.
The threat lingered in the air like the last notes of a somber melody, even after Ava had disappeared around the corner, her footsteps fading down the hallway.
Ciry let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly from their perfect posture.
Just as she was contemplating her next move, Ryu strolled in—looking unbothered and vaguely expensive, as if he'd just stepped out of a luxury menswear catalog.
The dining room's lights highlighted the sharp angles of his jawline and the cold calculation in his dark eyes.
He'd changed into a black turtleneck and jeans that hugged him like they had unresolved feelings, the casual outfit somehow making him look even more intimidating than his earlier suit.
His presence immediately filled the room, commanding attention without saying a word—the unmistakable aura of a man accustomed to power.
He nodded at Ciry, a barely perceptible acknowledgment that somehow managed to be both polite and dismissive simultaneously.
His cologne—notes of citrus and something distinctly masculine—wafted through the room, mingling with the rich aromas of dinner.
Ciry was already at the table, digging into a generous plate of lasagna and beef stew, with a fruit salad on the side to balance out the guilt.
She kept her eyes deliberately fixed on her food, as though the intricate pattern of the fine china held the secrets of the universe.
The silverware clinked softly against the plate, the only sound in the otherwise silent kitchen.
Ryu sat down and served himself a mountain of food, adding a hearty scoop of beef stew like a man who believed gravy solved problems.
His movements were efficient, precise—a reminder of the disciplined control that had made him such a feared figure in the underworld. The apple juice pitcher sat innocently beside his plate, untouched for now.
They ate in silence. Ciry was composed, chewing with the air of someone who'd just pulled off a small crime.
She occasionally glanced at the juice pitcher, then at Ryu, her expression carefully neutral despite the anticipation bubbling inside her like champagne.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine times, its deep tones reverberating through the mansion.
The tension between them was thick enough to cut with the sterling silver knife resting beside Ciry's plate. Outside, crickets began their nightly symphony, a stark contrast to the loaded silence within.
When she finished, she dabbed her mouth with a crisp linen napkin, rose elegantly from her chair with the grace of a dancer, and announced, "I'm going to sleep."
Her voice was honey-sweet, betraying none of the mischief she'd orchestrated. She smoothed her skirt, adjusting the gold bracelet on her wrist with deliberate casualness.
Ryu nodded, eyes glued to his phone as he absentmindedly scooped food into his mouth.
The blue light from the screen cast an eerie glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.
He didn't even look up as she departed, seemingly engrossed in whatever business demanded his attention, unaware of the trap set for him.
Ciry walked away, her steps measured and unhurried until she was out of his line of sight.
The plush carpet of the hallway muffled her footsteps as she moved through the sprawling mansion, past priceless artwork and antique furniture.
She crept behind the balcony that overlooked the dining area, her eyes narrowing with the focus of a cat stalking a particularly juicy mouse.
The ornate railing provided perfect cover for her surveillance operation. Heart pounding with anticipation, breath held in suspense, she stood behind the wall, just out of view, and peered through the gap between the decorative columns.
From this vantage point, she had a perfect view of Ryu at the table, still engrossed in his phone, the pitcher of doctored apple juice sitting tantalizingly close to his hand.
Mission accomplished, she thought with a sly grin that would have made any movie villain proud. Her pulse quickened with anticipation, palms slightly damp as she waited for her plan to unfold.