A maid entered the room, carrying a simple tray of food. Her expression was tinged with worry as she glanced at Nanjō Honami. In a soft voice, she said, "Ojou-sama, please have a little something to fill your stomach."
Though there would be a banquet later, chances were she wouldn't be able to eat much there.
It was perfectly normal to have a small meal in advance.
Honami glanced at the tray, then, adopting a petulant tone, said, "I want steak."
The maid blinked, momentarily stunned. After all, Matsunoya was a traditional Japanese restaurant—steak wasn't even on the menu.
Looking flustered, the maid replied, "I... I can try asking the kitchen at the main house to prepare one and have it delivered… or perhaps I could call a Western restaurant nearby and see if they can prepare it for you."
Normally, Western restaurants didn't offer takeout, let alone delivery—but if the client was the Nanjō family, that was another story entirely.
Honami's expression darkened. She looked every bit the spoiled young lady. "I don't want to wait! I want it now! I want it served in twenty minutes!"
"M-my apologies, Ojou-sama… that really isn't possible," the maid said, bowing her head apologetically.
"Then take me to the kitchen. I'll see if there's anything there I'd like to eat." With that, Honami rose to her feet, still playing the role of a sulking young lady.
The maids had grown rather sympathetic toward her in recent days. That sympathy now won out. With a resigned sigh, the maid said, "Very well. I'll inform the SPs."
In this case, SP meant bodyguards—but this was Japan, where foreign loanwords were often used as-is, including abbreviations like this one.
The maid stepped out briefly. When she returned, she told Honami, "The SPs will accompany us."
"The head chef at Matsunoya isn't pleased about this, so he may not treat you very kindly. However… he has agreed to let you into the kitchen and to let you sample any of the dishes that are already prepared."
Honami nodded.
"Then let's go."
The maid led the way out of the waiting room.
The bodyguards stationed outside the door immediately fell in behind them.
Silently, Honami began memorizing the layout of Matsunoya's interior. Even a young lady like her didn't visit this restaurant often, so she had to learn the terrain on the spot.
When they reached the kitchen, the head chef greeted them with a sour expression. Still, he ordered the staff to lay out the completed dishes on a long table for Honami to choose from.
But Honami ignored the prepared food entirely and headed straight for the fresh ingredients.
"I want sashimi!" she declared loudly, approaching the prep station. And when no one was paying attention, she quietly slipped a small kitchen knife into the wide sleeve of her kimono.
Perfect. She had a weapon now.
The next step was figuring out when and how to make her escape.
Relieved, she was about to turn when the head chef grabbed her shoulder and forcibly turned her around.
"Hey! I don't care if you're the Nanjō heiress—you can't just do whatever you want in my kitchen!" he bellowed.
Honami's sharp eyes noticed something beneath the cuff of his chef's uniform: a faint glimpse of a tattoo.
Combined with the man's fierce appearance, she quickly surmised that he was probably an ex-yakuza.
The fact that the head chef of one of Tokyo's top Japanese restaurants was a former yakuza... Honami couldn't help but be a little shocked.
One of the bodyguards stepped forward. "Release Ojou-sama."
"Hah?" The head chef turned and glared at him, his face twisting into an even more menacing scowl. "Who the hell do you think you are? Just because you're wearing a black suit and an earpiece, you think you're some Hollywood super bodyguard?"
"Protecting Ojou-sama is my duty. Please remove your hand from her—"
"That's enough," Honami interjected. While a fight between the bodyguard and the chef might create a chance for her to escape in the chaos, she didn't want to drag innocent people into her plan.
"I'll just pick something from the prepared dishes," she said calmly.
With that, Honami walked over to the long table and deliberately chose the dish that looked highest in calories.
She needed the energy—and the sugar boost—for her escape.
Just as she was about to take a bite, the maid hurried over. "Ojou-sama, it's improper to eat here. Allow me to bring it back to your waiting room. Please come with me. If you're away too long, I fear Master Nanjō will be upset."
Honami nodded.
Her objective in coming to the kitchen had been achieved. She had secured a knife. There was no need to alarm her grandfather.
A short while later, she returned to the waiting room, quietly eating her food while making sure the knife was better concealed.
The kimono she wore today was a very formal furisode, with multiple layers—perfect for hiding things.
As she ate, she maintained her expression of defeated despair.
At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Judging by the sound, they belonged to a man.
Then came the voice of a bodyguard stationed at the door. "Halt, Asakura-san."
A moment later, Asakura Yasuzumi's voice answered. "I've come to see my fiancée. Is that not allowed?"
"I'm sorry, sir. Master Nanjō gave strict orders. We cannot let you enter."
A few seconds of silence followed, then Asakura let out a heavy snort. "Still playing these games at this point? Fine, whatever. She'll be mine by tonight anyway."
With that, his footsteps faded into the distance.
The maid sighed. "Ah, Ojou-sama… how did you end up engaged to someone like that?"
Honami let out a soft, mournful sigh of her own, playing along—and deepening the maid's sympathy even further.
At the same time, she steeled her resolve.
Tonight, she had to escape.
If she couldn't… she would rather die than let someone like Asakura defile her.
If it came to it, she would bite her tongue and end her life.
Just like the princesses of old, in the Sengoku period, who chose death over dishonor.
Of course, Honami didn't want to die. The thought of it terrified her.
That was all the more reason she would fight with everything she had to make her escape succeed.
Finally, it was time for the banquet to begin.
Accompanied by bodyguards and maids, Honami was "escorted" to the banquet hall.
On the way, she noticed something unexpected: the old restaurant had been equipped with state-of-the-art fire alarm systems—the exact same model used at Etsukawa Girls'.
At school, she'd served on the disaster preparedness committee and had learned the system's workings inside and out.
A brilliant plan formed in her mind.
She would trigger a false fire alarm and use the ensuing chaos to escape.
For the best chance of success, she should wait until the banquet was well underway—after the guests had loosened up with drink.
As she plotted, Honami entered the banquet hall.
Her eyes immediately landed on Asakura Yasuzumi, already seated.
He was staring at her openly, his gaze shamelessly lingering on her chest.
A girl like Honami was acutely aware of such leering attention. She knew exactly which parts of her body were being ogled.
She wanted nothing more than to turn and flee.
But the bodyguards' watchful eyes were fixed on her. There was no chance of escape yet.
She would have to bide her time until the banquet reached its later stages.
Then, using the excuse of going to the restroom—she would act.
Honami steadied her expression into one of hopeless resignation and sat down beside her so-called "fiancé."
Last Friday, she had faltered for lack of patience, throwing her plan into disarray.
She wouldn't make that mistake again.
This time, she would handle it wisely—just like her late grandmother would have.
(End of Chapter)