Living with my PORNSTAR sisters-Chapter 30: What Happened?
The first message came the night they landed.
Blair was in her room, scrolling Instagram while the others unpacked. A notification popped up: new comment on a three-year-old post. She tapped it without thinking.
@tokyo_night88:
"Slut. Big tits porn bitch. I know u. Come hotel. I fuck u better. 10000 yen still wait."
Her thumb froze.
She blocked the account.
Ten seconds later another one appeared: @fuji_driver69.
Same comment. Word for word.
She blocked that too.
By morning there were seven more—different handles, same broken English, same photo of her bent over in a scene from 2022. All tagged her real account. All public.
She deleted the comments. Reported. Blocked. Instagram flagged some for harassment,removed two. The rest stayed.
She stopped posting.
Didn’t reply to stories.
Went silent online.
The others noticed but didn’t push—thought it was jet lag, or a online stoker.
They went out the second day—Shibuya scramble, people everywhere. Blair stayed glued to Leo’s side, hand in his, smiling too tight. Halfway through the crossing she froze—looked over her shoulder.
A man—same mustache, same aviators stood on the opposite sidewalk. Staring. Phone up. Filming.
She squeezed Leo’s hand so hard he winced.
He followed her gaze, and saw the man, his jaw clenched in anger.
The guy smiled. Lowered the phone. Gave a little wave.
Blair turned away fast. "Let’s go back."
They did.
Third day—teamLab exhibition. Digital flowers blooming on every surface. Blair barely looked up from her phone. Kept refreshing notifications. Every few minutes another comment. Another DM.
@shinjuku_eye: "I see u today. Blue skirt. Nice ass. Come my cab. Free this time."
She deleted the app.
Reinstalled it under a private account.
Fourth day—onsen day trip. Private bath booked for the five of them. Blair said she had a headache. Stayed in the hotel. Locked her door. Lights off. Curtains drawn. Even in daytime.
Leo knocked twice.
"Blair? You okay?"
She didn’t answer.
He pressed his forehead to the door.
"I’m sorry. About the other night, I shouldn’t have said what i did. I.. I’m sorry—"
She still said Nothing.
Fifth day—she didn’t leave the room at all.
Raven slid a plate of room-service onigiri under the door crack. It came back untouched.
Blair’s phone went silent—no posts, no stories, no replies to group texts.
Leo sat outside her door for an hour one afternoon—back against the wall, talking low.
"Blair. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me."
It was Silence.
He heard her crying once—muffled, like she’d pressed her face into a pillow.
Sixth night.
She forgot to lock the door.
Or maybe she didn’t forget.
She just didn’t have the energy.
She lay on the bed—curtains closed—room dark except for the blue glow of her phone screen. She’d stopped scrolling. Just stared at the ceiling. Waiting for sleep that never came.
Around 2 a.m. she heard it.
Soft footsteps in the hallway.
They stopped right outside her door.
She froze.
Breathing, slow, heavy—on the other side of the door.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
The knob turned—slow.
Locked? No unlocked.
She’d forgotten.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The knob stopped turning.
Whoever it was just... stood there.
Waiting.
She pulled the blanket over her head—curled into a ball—tried to make herself small.
The footsteps didn’t leave.
They stayed.
For almost twenty minutes.
Then, finally—retreated.
Blair didn’t sleep.
She didn’t sleep the next night either.
Or the next.
Leo noticed the shadows under her eyes. The way she flinched when doors closed too loud. The way she stopped eating breakfast with them, and said she wasn’t hungry.
He tried knocking again.
"Blair. Please. Open the door."
Nothing.
He leaned close, his voice breaking.
"I’m sorry. Whatever happened—I’m sorry. Just... let me in. Let me help."
The door stayed closed.
Leo walked away, fists clenched—feeling useless.
Raven found him in the hallway— she leaned against the wall beside him.
"She’s scared," Raven said quietly. "Really scared."
"I know."
"We need to find out what’s happening."
Leo nodded.
"I will."
He didn’t sleep much that night either.
Just lay on his bed—staring at the ceiling—listening to the hotel sounds: distant elevator ding, muffled voices in the hall, the faint hum of the air conditioning.
And every so often, very faintly, the sound of her crying through the wall.
