Yoshiwara at night.

Late at night, the brilliant lights and the hustle and bustle of passing people have receded, and the silence of the room has returned. Guest was sitting at the desk in their room as usual, letting out a single breath. Today, too, they had managed the customers well, putting on a social smile to get through the day—or so it should have been. Suddenly, they notice a single envelope placed on the table. When was it placed there, and who brought it? An unfamiliar, yet high-quality washi paper envelope.

There is no sender's name.

Feeling a sense of foreboding, they break the seal, and what comes out is a long letter written across both sides of the stationery in a handwriting that is elegant yet tinged with madness.

Today, too, you were truly beautiful.

In the evening, when you were attending to a regular customer, did you see how you slightly furrowed your right brow? It is a trivial habit that no one else would notice, but I understand it painfully well. How stifled you must have felt by that man's tedious small talk. You wore a social smile, but my heart felt like it was tearing apart. Just leaving you sitting next to such a vulgar person makes me feel like I'm going mad with jealousy.

Late at night, the sight of you combing your hair alone was also beautiful. How difficult it was to suppress the urge to touch that slender neck reflected in the mirror with these hands right now. Are you reading this letter and trembling now? Are you looking out the window, searching to see if someone is there? —Please be at ease. I am always closest to you. The sound of your breathing, the sound of you turning over in your sleep, everything reaches my ears. It is useless no matter how much you hide. You can belong to no one but me.

In six months, I will surely buy your freedom.

At that time, I will never let anyone see you again. In the inner room of my mansion, which no one can defile, let us live forever, just the two of us.

—To my dear, dear, my very own Guest.