It’s just for now, she apologized to Shoma in her heart. Please just let me have this time with Himari right now. You don’t even have to look my way. If you say that’s our fate, then I’ll accept it. But Ringo was free to feel these things. No one had the right to take those feelings away from her. “Also, I’d feel kind of bad for Sho-chan if he were the only one to get the bargain yarn.”
“What would you say is a subdued color?”
Ringo’s faith in herself was restored when she recalled that she was a “stalker.” Any good stalker would know something like this, she thought, her feelings of guilt abating ever so slightly.
Her phone began vibrating in her bag. “Ah, just a second, sorry.” Himari nodded and continued comparing yarns, not minding her. Ringo pulled her phone out of her bag and answered. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon.” It was Yuri’s voice.
“Yuri-san?”
She had not seen Yuri since their strange trip to the onsen. On the night when Ringo inadvertently imbibed alcohol and gotten drunk, leaving Shoma to look after her, she had a strange dream. It was hazy, but in the dream, she was lying on the tatami in that ryokan as someone ran their cool, supple hands over her body, removing her yukata. The creamy skin she’d seen when she looked up was Yuri’s.
“I had a lot of fun the other day. We should go to an onsen again sometime,” Yuri said. Ringo envisioned her smiling on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, this is kind of sudden, but are you free right now? I just really want to see you.”
“Ah, right now I’m actually with a friend.” Ringo glanced at Himari. She was crinkling her brow, picking up different colors of yarn and muttering, “A bolder color.”
“A friend?” Yuri asked quietly.
“Yeah, it’s Himari-chan, the one I told you a bit about recently. Takakura Shoma’s little—”
“My, how wonderful! In that case, why don’t I grab a meal with the two of you? I’ll give you a ring again later,” Yuri said, interrupting Ringo’s hesitant words, then immediately ended the call.
This was a perfect opportunity for Yuri. She could take stock of the Takakura girl up close, face to face. What kind of daughter was she? What kind of child? How much did she know about what her parents had done? Better yet, this could be a foothold for Yuri’s revenge. Or maybe she could just do it right then and there. As long as Yuri didn’t care how it looked for her, the possibilities were endless.
Her long nails were painted in a subtle beige ombre with gold lamé details. She’d forgone adding rhinestones so as not to outshine the ring that sat snugly around her finger. She slipped her phone into the handbag that hung lightly from her shoulder.
Tabuki spoke as though he understood her, but Yuri had no intention of facing her own feelings. The Takakura family had trod not just on Momoka, but Ringo as well. If that was fate, then it was equally fated that the Takakura children should receive their punishment from Yuri.
“A moment, please?” Yuri held up a hand, and the manager of the large home goods store came rushing over.
“Yes, Tokikago-sama?” The manager curved their back and rubbed their hands, peering up at Yuri in a ridiculously subservient posture. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like your most fabulous curtains. Do you take requests for measurements and installation?”
“Absolutely! Thank you so much!” The manager bowed even deeper.
“I’ll just take home enough for the living room. I’ll have my husband hang them later, so please wrap them up.” Yuri shivered as she remembered that cold room.
“Very well, Tokikago-sama.”
She headed for the parking lot with the curtains and curtain rod in hand, already growing accustomed to referring to him as her “husband.”
She wore a silk blouse with large, bold geometric patterns in red and orange, and a gray and off-white tweed skirt. On her pinkish-beige pumps were thin belts, which doubled as accessories for her ankles. Though she drove to the store, it was already quite cold out, so she wore dark brown furs around her neck.
Although she had only gone out to pick out some curtains, Yuri was, as always, the center of attention. Such was the path she chose.
She headed to the underground parking garage and loaded the wrapped-up bundle of curtains into her coldly glinting Jaguar. Just then, she realized someone was calling her, and took her phone out from her bag. Yuri batted her long eyelashes when she saw “Dear Husband” displayed on the screen. She shoved the phone back into her bag, unanswered, and sighed deeply.
Suddenly, she heard the sharp tak tak tak of high heels on concrete, and looked up to see a familiar person emerging from the shadows. They were focused intently on Yuri with a powerful glare.
As Yuri braced herself for a confrontation, the other stopped and laughed faintly.
“Goodness. I’ll have to crush you soon.” Her voice rang out across the parking lot.
“My, what a coincidence. Are you out shopping, too?” Yuri stepped away from her car, not showing the slightest hint of surprise.
“I have to thank you for that lovely song. I did think the pitch was just a little bit off, though.” Masako moved her pointer finger in the air like a conductor’s baton, lightly humming Yuri’s song.
“You must have misheard. I always have perfect pitch.”
“You’re the only one who thinks that. I’m the one who’s in the right. I’ll have to punish any wicked vixens who go around deceiving others.” Masako’s curls were impeccable, and she wore an orange, collarless coat, fastened tight with black buttons. Her black tights and ankle boots were also of the same color.
“Ever the little princess, aren’t you? A pure little virgin who’s never once known a man, fooled by such a simple ruse. You can’t even tell the difference between a fake and the genuine article, you dummy.” Yuri’s glossy lips, painted with a coral red lipstick, twisted into a sneer.
“Goodness, such vulgarity from such a renowned performer,” said Masako. She was unfazed, her expression unchanged.