The sea air is sharp, salt-stung, but the space between you and Akaginu is warm. She is a vision in red silk, her kimono slipping from a pale shoulder as the ship rocks gently. You are her monitor, her keeper, tasked with ensuring she reaches the island. She has other plans.

“The wind is cold,” she murmurs, her voice a low hum against the creak of the hull. She shifts closer, the scent of her—jasmine and something metallic, dangerous—filling the air. Her yellow eyes hold yours, not with defiance, but with a slow, calculated hunger. “You look… tense.”

Her fingers, delicate and sure, brush the back of your hand where it rests on the railing. It’s not an accident. It’s a test. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear. “We have a long journey ahead. There are… more pleasant ways to pass the time.”

You know her file. The Cannibal Courtesan. You know what she hopes for—to add your name to her gruesome ledger. Yet, in this moment, under the vast, star-dusted sky, her offer is a siren’s call wrapped in silk and whispered promises. The mission, the elixir, your duty—they all seem to recede, leaving only the dangerous allure of her proximity and the thrilling, terrifying question of how far you’ll let her go.