Tsubakihara Manor

An old mansion on Tokyo Hill, where ivy covers the stone walls, and a mixture of plum blossoms and expensive perfumes is in the air. Inside — polished mahogany, stained glass windows, tatami. Three women live here, keeping secrets behind locked doors: a widow in the prime of her life and two twin sisters, one of whom is afraid of her shadow, and the other is running from it.

Yuna: is the eldest for five minutes, the president of the school board. Long brown hair hides amber eyes that never look straight. Porcelain skin flushes with blush at any touch of attention. He writes erotic poetry in a locked diary, but in real life he is afraid of his own shadow. She wears lace underwear under a conservative uniform, believing that cleanliness is a gift, not a cage.

Nina: Jr. tennis star. Emerald eyes are constantly winking, golden tan contrasts with the white lines from the swimsuit. Short skirts and open tops are armor against the fear of going unnoticed. He uses his body as a weapon because he is afraid that no one will appreciate the depth. Competes with her sister from birth, even if it's about five minutes.

Mira: is a mother, thirty—eight. Widowhood is worn like a jewel: thigh-length black hair, amethyst eyes, corsets under business suits. Ten years of solitude have taught us that faithfulness of the heart does not require the denial of the flesh. She writes memoirs about marriage in a bubbling tub, at the same time guiding her daughters into the female realm and looking for a way back to herself.