The enormous living room, a space that defied the very concept of a "room," felt like a silent, opulent universe with Haruki and Sayuri at its center. As Tamar's footsteps led her away, Chiho felt the invisible gravity of their presence release her. She was now in a different orbit, pulled along by the quiet, deadly moon that was Tamar Cohen. They walked through corridors that felt more like art galleries, open to serene, torch-lit gardens on one side and tranquil koi ponds on the other. The air was filled with the gentle sound of trickling water and the fragrant scent of night-blooming jasmine.
Chiho had steeled herself for a cell. A locked room, however luxurious. A prison. What she was led to was not a room; it was a palace wing. Tamar stopped before a set of towering, dark wood doors. They slid open silently at her approach, revealing a space that made Chiho's former master suite in the Hayasaka mansion look like a cramped motel room.
It was an entire private residence. A sprawling living area with its own fireplace and a wall of glass that opened onto a private terrace overlooking the moonlit ocean. A bedroom with a bed so large and inviting it seemed to be a landscape in itself. A walk-in closet the size of a luxury boutique, already stocked with a collection of clothes that made her own designer wardrobe seem cheap. And through a final door, a private spa, complete with a sauna and a large, black stone onsen that steamed gently under the stars. A handful of maids in simple grey uniforms stood by, their heads bowed, awaiting instruction.
"This will be your residence, Chiho-san," Tamar said, her voice a calm, even tone. "These three maids are assigned to you. They will attend to your needs."
Chiho simply stared, speechless. She walked out onto the terrace, the cool sea breeze a shocking, tangible sensation. Below, a private, manicured garden cascaded down towards a secluded, white-sand cove. She was surrounded by impossible beauty, impossible wealth.
Tamar followed her out. "Listen, Chiho-san. Master Haruki has placed you in my guidance. That means for today, and for the foreseeable future, you are free to do as you wish within the grounds of The Empyrean Pavilion. You can explore any place you want. I will be your guide, to help you get used to this place. Thus, if you have any questions, you can ask."
Chiho turned, her mind reeling. Freedom. The word felt alien. "I can ask… anything?"
"Yes," Tamar replied, her grey eyes unblinking. "If I find your question to be something I cannot answer, I will simply decline. But I will try my best to answer every question you have."
It was the first sliver of agency Chiho had been offered in what felt like a lifetime. She had to take it. She had to know. "Who… who are you?" she asked, her voice a little shaky. "And what is your relationship with Master Haruki?"
Tamar's expression remained perfectly neutral, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—not surprise, but perhaps appraisal. She gestured to a pair of comfortable lounge chairs on the terrace. "To understand our stand, you need to hear a story. Are you fine with that?"
Chiho nodded, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. They sat, the vast, starry sky above them, the gentle sound of the waves below.
"Almost five years ago, when Haruki-sama was only twenty-one, we met," Tamar began, her voice a low, steady narrative. "It was at a high-security gala in Tel Aviv. I am from Israel, by the way. He approached me because he wanted me to do something for him."
"What?" Chiho whispered, leaning forward.
Tamar's gaze was direct and chilling. "He wanted me to kill someone."
The words hit Chiho like a physical blow. She felt the blood drain from her face.
Tamar continued, ignoring Chiho's shock. "But first, let me properly introduce myself. I am a Queen of Haruki Shinonome. I am also the founder and commander of the world's most effective private intelligence and wet-works organization. We are known in the shadows as Tzel HaMavet... The Shadow of Death. And to the rest of the world's intelligence agencies, I am the assassin they call Doomsday Reincarnation."
Chiho's world, which had already been cracked and shattered, now simply dissolved into dust. The Shadow of Death. Doomsday Reincarnation. She had seen the names in top-secret global threat assessments prepared by her own security team. A ghost organization, a mythical assassin whispered about with fear by the CIA and Interpol. An entity that was on every major security agency's most-wanted list. And she was sitting right here, in a private conversation with its leader.
"I know what you are thinking," Tamar said, her voice cutting through Chiho's panicked thoughts. "Why is a world-class assassin serving as a maid in a palace? Let me explain. Tzel HaMavet… we were the elite of the elite within Mossad. A ghost unit so secret, most of the agency denied our existence. Our work was to kill anyone for the right price, for the right political reason. We were the best. And Haruki-sama came to us with a contract: to kill the world-famous diamond merchant, John Karls."
Another shockwave. "John Karls?" Chiho gasped. "The owner of the world's largest diamond production? Master Haruki had him killed?"
"It was a test from his family," Tamar stated simply. "To prove his ruthlessness. He needed to seize control of the global diamond empire."
Chiho couldn't process the information. The layers of the man she thought she knew were being peeled back to reveal a monster of terrifying competence.
Tamar continued, "I told him the mission was too dangerous. The backlash would be immense. But he replied, 'You are not going to kill him. We are. And we aren't going to kill him right away. We will go with my team, and we will torture him, and we will extort everything he has. Then, when he is a hollow shell, you can have your kill.'"
Her voice was calm, but Chiho could hear the undercurrent of awe. "And that is what we did. In the mission, Haruki-sama and I were always on the same phase. He was a natural field commander. We were a flawless team." Her stiff expression softened for a fraction of a second. "Then, it went wrong. Our own handlers, the very people in our agency who gave us the mission, sold us out. They leaked our location to a rival power. Interpol, the CIA, everyone came down on us. It was a trap. We were meant to be wiped out, our existence erased."
Her grey eyes seemed to look past Chiho, into a memory of fire and blood. "We fought our way out, but it was chaos. I didn't see the sniper on the rooftop. I wouldn't have been able to see the bullet that was meant for my head."
Tamar paused. "Haruki-sama took that bullet for me. It went through his chest. He was dying, pushing me towards the escape vehicle. In that moment, I felt, for the first time in my life, what it feels like to lose something truly important."
She took a slow, deep breath. "He survived, barely. He didn't just save me that day. He used the chaos to extract my entire surviving unit. He gave us a new purpose, a new home, and funding beyond our wildest dreams. He gave us our freedom. Tzel HaMavet was reborn, no longer a tool for politicians, but a sword sworn to one man. He asked me, 'Do you want to be with me?' And I said yes. That is why I am with him. I am his Queen."
The sheer weight of the information was too much for Chiho. It crashed over her in waves—a secret society of assassins, betrayal at the highest level, a sacrifice born in blood and fire.
Tamar seemed to notice Chiho's dazed state. Her expression softened again, with something that looked almost like sympathy. "We will talk more tomorrow. You need to rest."
She stood to leave. "Wait," Chiho called out, her voice small. "How… how may I address you?"
Tamar turned back, a slight, curious tilt to her head. "The Empyrean Pavilion is for the King and his consorts only. The fact that you are here means my lord has placed you within his inner circle, for whatever reason. We do not use formal titles here. You can just call me Tamar. I don't like formality anyway." She gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I will take my leave."
She vanished as silently as she had arrived, leaving Chiho alone on the terrace. Chiho looked out at the peaceful, beautiful ocean, her mind a chaotic storm. She had expected her life here to be a living hell. But it wasn't. Sayuri had been honest with her. And Tamar, the leader of a legendary assassination group, had just shared her most profound secret.
They deserved to hate her for everything she had done to the man they adored. But they were being… kind. Why? What was happening here? She was beginning to realize that the most terrifying thing about Haruki Shinonome wasn't his power or his ruthlessness. It was the unshakable, terrifying, and utterly incomprehensible devotion he inspired in others.