Whispers of Shikiban:The king walks among us-Chapter 68 --

8th Floor – "VIP" Lounge, Kabukicho Hotel

10:43 PM – Red Light District Ops

The room was a mess of tired luxury. Velvet curtains hung like they'd given up, swaying weakly as the air conditioner hummed a death rattle. The scent of cheap roses mixed with stale smoke, clinging to everything like some kind of apology.

Souta leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he was at a high school reunion he didn't want to attend but somehow managed to make cool. His silver hair fell just enough to cover both eye, giving him that "I'm too good for this" vibe. And he knew it.

Next to him stood Reika, as still as stone. Her crimson kimono was a tightrope walk between tradition and something more... dangerous. The slit rode too high. The sleeves hid her clenched fists, but her face? A mask of calm and controlled chaos.

Her brain, on the other hand? I will skin this man alive and use his bones to stir my tea.

Across from them sat Remi, looking like she had walked straight out of a high-fashion nightmare. She didn't so much sit as she melted into the seat, the queen of this miserable circus. Her red lipstick was borderline aggressive, and her smile screamed, I've broken laws just for fun.

Souta smirked, breaking the silence. His voice was smooth—like he was selling ice to an Eskimo.

"Remi-san, thanks for meeting with us. This is Yuri Shimizu. She's interested in working here."

Reika blinked. Yuri Shimizu? That wasn't even close to her alias. She'd signed up as Mayumi. This man was making up fake names like it was some kind of high-stakes karaoke.

Remi's eyes slid over her, slow and calculating, like she was deciding if Reika was worth her time. Then—without warning—Remi's hand reached out and brushed Reika's cheek.

"Flawless skin," she purred.

Reika's eye twitched, but her smile stayed perfect. "Touch me again and I'll rip your hand off and sell it on the dark web."

The room went still for a moment, as if everyone had suddenly realized they were in the middle of a bad reality show.

Remi jerked her hand back like she'd just touched a live wire. "Huh?"

Souta chuckled, the sound barely a laugh. "She's a little nervous. First time."

Reika's fists were so clenched.

Remi didn't flinch. "Room 79. Customer will be there in five minutes."

Reika's brain short-circuited. Customer?

Souta didn't wait. He just walked out, hands in his pockets like he had nowhere better to be.

Once they were out of earshot, Reika hissed under her breath. "You said infiltration, not escorting."

Souta didn't even look at her. "I didn't say you had to pretend."

Reika glared at him for a solid second. She could easily kill him. Bury the body. Say he got eaten by a Zai. No one would ask questions.

7th Floor – Meanwhile in Chaos-ville

Daigo was sprinting through the hotel hallway like a man who'd just been told the vending machine was free for the next five minutes. His shirt was half-buttoned. His sneakers? Untied, naturally. His vibe? Running on pure chaos.

"YEAGA?! ISHIGO?! YEJI?! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

He kicked open a door. Screams. A half-naked couple gawked at him mid-makeout.

"Oh my GOD, LOCK YOUR DOORS. THIS IS WHY THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING EARLY."

He slammed the door. Next room.

And there it was. The sin-stained pit.

Yeaga was lounging on a velvet couch, looking like a male model who'd been dropped into a bad soap opera. Three women surrounded him, feeding him peeled grapes like he was some kind of demon prince. One was even massaging his scalp. Yeaga? Total zen mode.

Daigo stood frozen, his face a perfect picture of confusion and rage. "BRO. WHAT. THE. HELL."

Yeaga barely glanced up, raising a hand lazily as if greeting his underlings.

"They're soft, alright? And I was hungry."

"You're into girls now?!"

"I'm into being adored."

Yeaga stood, readjusting his collar like he was about to conquer the world. He grabbed Daigo's wrist and yanked him down the hallway.

"Come on. I've got something. Zai-10? His name's Enzo."

Daigo blinked. "You found intel while being fed grapes?!"

Yeaga winked. "I multitask."

6th Floor – Ishigo's Very Bad Night

Ishigo sat on a futon in a corner of the room, trying his best to blend into the background. Which, of course, was impossible. Four girls were gathered around him like he was a goldfish at a pet store. Each one too perfect, like they'd all passed a mirror test that had absolutely no flaws.

One leaned in, sniffing his neck. "Mmm. You smell like steel. I like it."

Ishigo backed away, blinking fast. "I'm legally underage in three prefectures. Please don't."

Another girl cupped his face like it was a priceless vase. "Such soft skin."

"I WILL CALL HR," Ishigo muttered, inching closer to the door.

Then—

SLAM!

The door exploded open. Yeji. Sword halfway drawn, eyes burning with that "I'm about to ruin your life" look.

"Step away from the awkward introvert," he barked.

The girls froze. One of them smiled wide, her fangs dropping like she'd just found her next snack.

"Fresh meat," she purred.

Ishigo's eyes went wide. "WHY does this keep happening to me?!"

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The closest vampire lunged at him. Yeji didn't waste a second. he blurred forward like a damn bullet—his sword slicing through the air, cutting the vampire's arm clean off. Blood sprayed across the room like a bad joke.

Ishigo snapped to action. He dove for his katana, hidden in the futon like it was a collectible action figure.

Another vampire rushed at him, claws out.

He dodged, spinning, and brought his blade up—CLANG—catching her wrist in midair. Then he twisted, ducked, and drove the sword right through her ribs.

She screeched like an old dial-up modem.

"THEY'RE SHIKIBAN!" he yelled, backing up.

The third vampire charged at him, and he didn't hesitate. He dropped low, swung up—and SLASH. Her head flew clean off her shoulders, dropping like a doll with its strings cut.

"Okay," Ishigo muttered, looking at the mess on the floor, "yep. This is definitely my Kageshiki arc."

The last vampire was trying to make a run for it, but Yeji had already flicked her wrist.

"Invincible Ring."

A translucent dome shot into existence, trapping the girl mid-air.

"Talk," Yeji ordered, his sword now trained on the vampire's throat.

The girl snarled, her fangs flashing. "You won't stop him."

Yeji didn't even flinch. he tightened the ring with a simple flick.

The girl screamed, her bones cracking like dry twigs.

"ENZO! IT'S ENZO! HE OWNS THIS PLACE!" She screamed in desperation.

"Thanks," Yeji said coolly, smiling with a hint of satisfaction.

POP.

Blood burst from the girl like a broken ketchup packet.

Yeji wiped his sword clean, looking over at Ishigo.

He was sitting on the floor, still holding his katana, wide-eyed like he'd just stumbled into a horror movie.

"I want to go home," he muttered, his voice tiny. "I want apple juice. I want... therapy."

Yeji extended a hand.

"Get up. You earned Pocky."

And across the room, someone watched.

A man, seated with a bowl of blood simmering on the table before him, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. He looked over at the chaos like it was a performance.

"So... fresh meat," he murmured, taking a slow sip from his bowl. "Kageshiki, huh? The one with the silver hair... looks like the strongest."

His eyes narrowed slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. "No matter. I'll kill the newbie first."