The light in the study was different from the tatami room yesterday.
The tatami room relied on natural light, which filtered in through the shoji paper, soft and directional.
The study had a desk lamp on, its light source positioned at the back left of the desk, illuminating half of the desktop while the other half remained submerged in shadow.
Satsuki sat behind the desk.
She wore a dark navy cardigan, with a sliver of her white shirt collar visible at the neckline.
Her hair was not tied up but draped over her shoulders, with a lock of hair on the right side resting against her collarbone.
She held a fountain pen in her hand.
Several sticky notes were spread out on the desk, covered in ink.
Chizuru knelt at the doorway and bowed.
Her hands were spaced a fist's width apart, and her forehead rested three inches above her fingertips.
"Sit." Satsuki's voice was flat, just like yesterday.
Chizuru stood up, walked to a position three feet from the desk, and knelt down.
Satsuki placed the fountain pen into the pen tray.
She leaned back into her chair, folded her hands over her abdomen, and fixed her gaze on Chizuru's face.
She said nothing, merely watching Chizuru.
Chizuru waited for two seconds, immediately realizing that these two seconds were meant for her.
"What Chizuru said yesterday, I shall present again today."
"Speak."
"Chizuru's mother, Matsumuro Shizue, worked as a maid in Yuriko's maiden home when she was young." Chizuru's voice was very low, her speech slightly slower than yesterday. "My mother was clumsy and inarticulate, but Yuriko never looked down on her. They were similar in age, and she treated my mother like her own sister."
She paused.
"After Yuriko married, my mother was forced to resign from her position as a maid and return to her hometown because my father had passed away and the family was in debt. Yuriko learned of this matter."
Satsuki remained silent.
"She used private funds from her own dowry to pay off all of my mother's debts. She also arranged for someone to find my mother a job as a packer at a tea factory in Uji."
Chizuru's gaze remained fixed two inches below Satsuki's neck.
"She only gave one instruction: 'Raise your daughter well.'"
"My mother passed away when I was thirteen," Chizuru said. "A month before she passed, she told me something. She said that in her entire life, she only owed a debt of gratitude to one person. That person's name was Yuriko."
Satsuki's fingers rested on the armrest of the chair, not moving.
"After my mother left, Yuriko entrusted me to the old matriarch of the Kujo family. Since I was thirteen, I have worked as a maid for the Kujo family. Washing dishes, sweeping floors, brushing the cat. Four years as a menial worker, three years as a regular maid, and then promoted to a personal maid. Including this year, it has been eighteen years in total."
She stated these years in a dry tone, as if these experiences had nothing to do with her.
"In addition, the old matriarch of the Kujo family also had me undergo systematic combat training. I was trained by an instructor from the Kujo family who was a retired Self-Defense Force member."
She did not elaborate on the content of the training.
Nor did she say what she could or could not do.
"That is all." Chizuru lowered her head again. "Chizuru once again implores you, Miss, to allow Chizuru to remain by your side to serve you."
After listening, Satsuki was silent for about five seconds.
Then she stood up.
"Come for a walk with me."
Under the veranda of the courtyard.
In Tokyo in November, the sun just past nine in the morning was at a very low angle, light slipping quietly through the treetops from the east, landing on the wooden planks of the veranda in patches.
Satsuki stood on the edge of the veranda, facing the courtyard.
Chizuru stood a step and a half behind her.
Under the silver osmanthus tree, a bird was pecking at something on the ground.
It pecked twice and flew away.
"Chizuru."
"Yes."
Satsuki did not turn around.
"You want to serve me because you owe my mother."
"Yes."
"But the person you owe is Yuriko." Satsuki's voice was very soft, carried by the cold air in the courtyard, not traveling far. "I am not Yuriko."
Chizuru did not reply.
Satsuki turned around.
The morning light shone from behind her, leaving half of her face in shadow.
"What if I do not accept?"
Chizuru's right hand rested by her knee, her fingertips touching the fabric of her plain-colored kimono.
"Chizuru will return to Kyoto to report back," she said.
"And then?"
"Then I will continue to work as a maid at the Kujo family until the day you need someone, Miss."
"What if I never need you in my entire life?"
Chizuru looked at Satsuki.
Her gaze shifted up a little from the spot two inches below her neck—shifting to her jawline.
"Then Chizuru will wait forever."
The corners of Satsuki's mouth twitched.
The movement was very slight; it was unclear whether it was a smile or something else.
"Second question," she said, walking westward along the veranda, "What makes you think you can gain my trust?"
This time, Chizuru's silence was longer.
"I have nothing to rely on," she said, following at Satsuki's side, shaking her head slightly.
Satsuki's eyebrows raised slightly.
"Trust is granted by the master." Chizuru's speech was half a beat slower than normal. "What Chizuru can do is stand where you can see me every day, do what you instruct, and neither slack off, lie, nor hide anything."
She paused.
"If enough time passes, you will naturally have your judgment."
"A very honest answer," Satsuki said, her tone neither praising nor criticizing.
They walked slowly, arriving at a camellia tree at the west end of the veranda.
The flowers had not yet bloomed, and only a few tightly closed buds hung on the branches.
Satsuki stopped there, reached out to touch the nearest bud, and slowly turned her head to look at Chizuru.
"Third question—" Her gaze swept down from Chizuru's face, pausing for a moment near the knot of her obi. "As you can see, I am not short of people around me."
"Why should I add one more person in you? What is special about you?"
Chizuru's answer came faster than the previous two.
"I can go where Fujita cannot."
Satsuki did not press further.
"The bathhouse of a hot spring inn, the women's changing room of a restaurant, the bedroom late at night, the tea party at a girls' school."
"Men cannot enter these places."
Satsuki looked at her.
"In addition—" Chizuru's hand moved by her waist, her fingers touching a slightly raised spot under the folds of her clothes, then retracted.
"My hands, besides serving tea and folding quilts, can do other things."
After this sentence was spoken, the courtyard was quiet for about three seconds.
The bird flew back, pecked twice more under the silver osmanthus tree, then tilted its head to look in the direction of the veranda.
Satsuki smiled.
A little wider than the one in the tatami room yesterday; the corners of her mouth curved up.
"Not bad." She walked to the pillar of the veranda, reached out to pick up the dark red maple leaf from the crossbeam, and twirled it between her fingertips.
Then she stopped smiling.
"Last two questions."
Her voice suddenly deepened.
"To whom is your loyalty given?"
Chizuru's answer had no pause.
"To Yuriko's daughter."
"To Yuriko's daughter," Satsuki repeated, omitting the word "Lady." "Not to the Saionji family?"
"Family names can be changed," Chizuru said. "Blood cannot."
Satsuki's fingers stopped.
The maple leaf was held between her index finger and thumb, stem pointing down.
"Second—" Her gaze locked onto Chizuru's eyes. This was the first time this morning that their gazes had met head-on.
"If one day, the interests of the Saionji family conflict with what you believe is right in your heart. Which side do you stand on?"
Chizuru did not answer immediately.
The wind in the courtyard stirred, and the branches of the silver osmanthus swayed slightly.
The bird finally flew away, the sound of its flapping wings leaving a short trail of sound in the air.
About four seconds passed.
"I stand by your side," Chizuru said.
Satsuki waited.
"Right and wrong are for you to judge."
Satsuki looked at her for a long time.
Long enough for a patch of sunlight on the veranda to move from the third gap in the wooden planks to the fifth.
Then Satsuki smiled.
This smile was different from the previous ones.
The previous ones were just a curve of the lips, a matter of social temperature control.
This smile traveled from the corners of her mouth up to her eyes.
"Do you know," she said, placing the maple leaf back on the crossbeam of the pillar, "of all your answers just now, the one I am most satisfied with is the four seconds you remained silent."
Chizuru bowed her head slightly.
"I actually cannot trust people who answer without thinking." Satsuki turned to face the courtyard, her voice slightly softer. "You thought seriously, and then still chose me—this shows that you made a decision, not just a gesture."
She did not look at Chizuru again.
"However—" She paused for a beat. "You said your loyalty is to Yuriko's daughter."
The wind passed, and the branches of the silver osmanthus stopped swaying.
"I will make you loyal to me personally."
This was a statement.
It was neither a threat nor an enticement, as if she had no doubt whatsoever about whether she could achieve it.
Chizuru prostrated herself.
Her forehead lowered to three inches above her fingertips, performing a standard rite of entry.
Satsuki's footsteps were already heading back.
She did not stop when she passed by Chizuru's side.
"Get up and come back with me."
At study room.
Satsuki sat down behind the desk, picked up the small bronze bell, and rang it.
Fujita pushed the door open as quickly as he had yesterday.
"Fujita."
"Yes."
Satsuki picked up a pen and wrote two lines on a sticky note.
After finishing, she pushed the paper to the edge of the desk.
"From today, Matsumuro Chizuru is incorporated into the Saionji family attendant sequence."
Fujita's gaze swept over the paper, then lifted to glance at Chizuru, who was standing by the side of the desk.
Chizuru stood very straight.
Her hands hung in front of her, fingertips together, her gaze fixed on Fujita's collar.
"Position: Personal Maid (Miss's Attendant)." Satsuki put down the pen.
Fujita's expression did not change.
"She will concurrently handle external security and liaison matters regarding Kyoto," Satsuki said. "Coordinate with her regarding specific shift and movement arrangements."
"Understood." Fujita bowed.
Before he exited the study, he paused at the door again.
"Should Miss Matsumuro's room be moved from the east wing guest room to..."
"Move it to the small room next to my bedroom," Satsuki said. "Fujita, give her a key."
"Yes."
The door closed.
There were two people left in the study.
Chizuru stood in place.
Her right hand slightly tightened by her side, then relaxed.
The hilt of the kaiken under the folds of her clothes pressed against her hip bone.
Satsuki did not look at her.
She had picked up the pen again to write new words on the sticky note.
After writing for a few seconds, she suddenly stopped.
"By the way," she said, without lifting her gaze, "When you were eating in the cafeteria this morning, you placed your chopsticks according to Kyoto customs at first, then changed the direction."
Chizuru's breathing stopped for a moment.
"No need to change it." Satsuki turned a page of paper. "There are no Tokyo customs here."
She continued writing.
"Here, I am the custom."
Chizuru stood in the study, listening to the rustling sound of the pen tip on the paper.
Outside the window, the silver osmanthus tree in the courtyard stood motionless in the sunlight.
The last few clusters of flower stamens that remained yesterday evening had all fallen off by today.
The tree was bare, with only branches remaining.
But the scent remained.
If you get close, you can smell it.