Though they had already set off from the house, Kazuma still wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to intervene in this situation.
Was he really just supposed to march in after Butler Suzuki, barge into Matsunoya, and dramatically declare:
"Grandfather, please listen to me!"
Wait, no—"Grandfather" this time, not "Grandmother."
And after the speech, what next? Cue a dramatic musical intro? Launch into a full-on aria: "My family's distant cousin, too many to count—"
If this were a game, it'd be simpler. He'd just choose a dialogue option, maybe play a round of Gwent first, then pick the persuasion choice…
But this was real life. No opera stage, no game menu, no tidy "debate mode" to switch into.
So when the moment came, what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to steer the conversation?
Kazuma couldn't come up with a good "opening move" no matter how he thought about it.
Did Butler Suzuki have a plan?
"Up ahead," the old butler suddenly said, turning his head. "That's Matsunoya."
Kazuma followed his gaze.
A building straight out of a fantasy—it radiated an aura like the Aburaya bathhouse from Spirited Away, a towering piece of traditional Japanese architecture.
Night had fallen. The neon lights of Tokyo blazed all around, yet it was as though a barrier enveloped this one building, cutting it off from the city's gaudy glow.
Elegant lanterns glowed faintly. The place felt like an otherworldly realm.
Kazuma couldn't help asking, "This Matsunoya… bet there are a lot of urban legends about it, huh?"
"Indeed," Butler Suzuki replied with a slight pause. "Plenty of magazines shooting paranormal features like to use this place as a backdrop. After all, most ordinary people will probably go their whole lives without ever dining here, so few get to witness this scene."
Guess I count as one of those ordinary folks, Kazuma thought. Maybe I should swipe a souvenir while I'm here. Won't be many chances for a visit like this again.
Butler Suzuki pulled the car into the parking lot and stepped out.
"We'll go in through the staff entrance," he said. "The Nanjo family reserved the whole place tonight. If I bring someone in through the front, the staff will notify them immediately, and Hiroshi will figure out who you are."
Kazuma noted that the butler had just called the Nanjo family patriarch by name.
He glanced at the old man.
Sure enough, a temporary status tag appeared above Suzuki's head:
Shared Hardship
Memories of struggles weathered together, untouched by the passage of time.
Kazuma was becoming more and more convinced of the potential of his "cheat." Just like that, he'd gleaned the depth of the butler's relationship with Nanjo Hiroshi—despite having only spoken with him a few times, never anything deep.
This sort of intel on personal relationships normally wouldn't be so easy to obtain.
Maybe I can work with this, Kazuma thought. Play up the connection between Butler Suzuki and Nanjo Hiroshi...
While he was mulling this over, the butler was already striding briskly toward the staff entrance.
Kazuma started to follow—but just then, something smashed through a second-floor paper window at Matsunoya.
A body fell, first hitting the eaves, then tumbling to the ground along with some decorative tiles.
Kazuma got a clear look. It was a man in a suit, an earpiece clipped to his ear—clearly some kind of bodyguard.
Before he could process what had happened, a woman's hysterical voice rang out from above.
"Get out of my way!"
Men's voices followed in a flurry.
"Grab her! Don't let her jump!"
"Hold her waist!"
"Take the knife! Be careful—don't hurt the young lady!"
A man let out a scream.
Kazuma and Butler Suzuki locked eyes for a split second—then both bolted at once.
Kazuma sprinted toward the staff entrance—but the butler yanked him back by the collar.
"No time!" Suzuki barked. "Climb up through the window!"
Without another word, the old man grabbed Kazuma by the legs and hoisted him upward.
Kazuma caught the eaves and scrambled up in a few quick motions.
He turned, about to offer a hand to pull the butler up—only to see the old man using a nearby trash can in a move straight out of a Jackie Chan film, vaulting smoothly onto the second floor.
"Holy crap," Kazuma muttered in awe.
"What are you spacing out for? Let's go!" the butler growled, grabbing Kazuma and hauling him through the broken window into Matsunoya's second floor.
Some time earlier, before nightfall.
Matsunoya had set aside a private room that evening to serve as Nanjo Honami's dressing room.
After all, she was tonight's key "apology gift" to the Asakura family—she had to be presented perfectly.
The maid in charge of her appearance finished the final touches, glanced at Honami's lifeless expression, sighed, and quietly packed up her tools.
As the door clicked shut, Nanjo Honami's expression immediately came back to life.
Yes—her days of despair and submission had all been an act.
She had fooled the maids who attended her daily, even stirring their sympathy.
But the truth was, she had never given up. Not for a moment.
As for whether Butler Suzuki would keep his promise—while Honami believed the old butler could be trusted, she wasn't pinning all her hopes on that.
Even if it's just me… I'll escape this marriage myself.
A brave sea swallow fears no storm—only longs for freedom.
From the moment her grandfather had announced her confinement, Honami had begun her "performance," biding her time.
She moved quickly now to check her preparations.
First, her wallet. She touched her chest to make sure it was still tucked safely between her breasts, packed with crisp ten-thousand yen bills.
Sneaking it past the maids' eyes had taken considerable effort.
Next, she patted her left upper arm. Through the kimono fabric, she felt the hard shape of a men's wristwatch strapped to her arm.
Good—that was in place too.
She'd lifted these from Nanjo Masahito's collection during one of her "repentance" visits.
Selling them would be her startup fund—enough to survive until she found a job.
Besides the men's watches, she also wore an expensive ladies' watch today.
And she had chosen an extravagant necklace and rings.
All necessary "travel funds" for her flight to freedom.
Having double-checked everything, Honami began searching for an air vent—surely a building like this would have one, right? That was her intended escape route.
But to her dismay, Matsunoya's main building was a traditional Japanese structure. Though the interior had been modernized, it didn't have something as advanced as a central ventilation system.
No vents to crawl through.
Honami clicked her tongue in frustration.
Am I really going to have to go with Plan B? Start a fire and escape in the chaos? But… if innocent people get hurt, I couldn't live with that.
She resolved: that route would be a last resort.
But if she didn't escape tonight, getting out from under heavy guard back at home would be even harder.
At that moment, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Instantly, Honami slipped back into her lifeless, puppet-like expression.
(End of Chapter)