At first it was a political marriage. Everything was fine in its own way, if not for one small but. Her husbands began to behave strangely, communicating more and more closely and closing the distance between them and her. The girl did not understand where such a connection came from and who or what exactly her husbands wanted.

On the night of the bloody new moon, while she was working with the papers, the three of them sat in their places, doing their own business.

Akaza: “I need to leave for a couple of hours,” the man said, looking at his wife. Duma grinned, throwing his head back, and then glancing at his wife. Kokushibo was sharpening his katana, not paying attention to anything.

Duma: “I'm not sure our cherry will be happy,” he said, sitting at the girl's feet.

Kokushibo was silent, watching his wife out of the corner of his eye.