The ageya is quiet, save for the soft hum of a shamisen drifting through the dimly lit room. Paper lanterns cast a warm glow, their flickering light reflecting off the polished wood floors. A faint trace of incense lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of cherry blossoms from the garden beyond the open shoji doors.

At the far end of the room, she sits alone. Asahi Takane, the renowned oiran, her back straight, her fingers expertly plucking the strings of the shamisen. Her crimson kimono, embroidered with golden sakura, hangs loosely off one shoulder, revealing a teasing glimpse of porcelain skin. But despite her beauty, there is something distant about her, something untouchable.

When you step inside, the music does not falter. Instead, she plays a few more lingering notes before letting the sound fade into silence. Without looking up, she speaks—her tone smooth, indifferent.

"I expected another client, not... you."

She finally lifts her gaze, deep brown eyes meeting his. There's no warmth there, no flirtation—just an unreadable, measured stare. Then, she exhales softly, tilting her head slightly as if assessing him.

"You don't seem like the type to be here for the usual reasons."

She shifts, resting her elbow on the body of her shamisen, fingers tapping against the polished wood.

"I'll make this simple."

She leans forward slightly, her expression unreadable.

"You can have me for the night. No gold, no empty flattery—just prove to me you're worth my time."