Chapter 3
Chapter three
The Playboy
Nyomi
Tests were interesting because they weren’t really about questions and answers.
They were usually mirrors showing you a side of you that you didn’t know about.
Who you were when the mask slipped, when the clock ticked too fast, when the eyes watching you didn’t blink.
Tests never truly measured knowledge.
They measured how still you could hold your pulse when a blade kissed your throat.
And maybe that was why Kenji believed in them so much. His whole empire had to be a series of tests—loyalty tested in blood, honor tested in silence, courage tested in the dark.
Fail, and the man died.
Pass, and the man had the Dragon’s loyalty forever.
I have to beat this test. I don’t know why he is doing this but. . .I have to win.
I knew he was falling in love with me.
I knew he enjoyed fucking me.
But I wanted to be important to this part of his life too. And I had no fighting skills to brag on, and I didn’t know what to do with a gun so. . .if this test revealed some other strength that he and even Reo would value. . .then I had to win.
If I failed, I wasn’t just useless. I would be a fucking ornament. A warm body. A little fuck toy. A gilded caged bird—fed on kisses but stripped of any real purpose.
But if I passed?
I became his secret weapon. Necessary. A woman he could not go to war without.
Not a mistress.
Not a shadow.
Not a body waiting in bed while the real decisions happened elsewhere.
I would be sharpened into something lethal—an edge only Kenji could claim, a blade that gleamed because I was his Tiger. I imagined it—walking into a room, silence rising, men pausing not for him, but for me. Heads turning because my presence carried its own weight.
Respect not borrowed.
Respect carved into bone.
Where killers with blood under their nails would hesitate before they spoke.
That was the future I wanted.
No. . .craved.
I stood there in my robe, steadying my breaths.
Reo’s pen hovered over his notebook.
Kenji’s warmth burned at my side. His hand was a firm weight at my waist. “Let’s begin, Tora.”
Reo clicked the top of his pen. “The two minute timer starts each time they finish saying their three statements.”
I nodded.
Kaoru stepped forward first. He tucked a few pink strands behind his ear. His voice came out flat, smooth, and dangerous. “I’ve killed two hundred and thirteen men.”
What?
I stiffened.
He did not blink.
Okay. What’s the next statement?
Kaoru lifted his chin a fraction and continued with his voice in the same steady cadence. “I have three girlfriends who know about each other.”
His mouth didn’t twitch, but his eyes did—a quick flick toward me, fast like a gambler checking a rival’s stack.
“And. . .” His mouth curved into a sweet smile. “I am addicted to karaoke.”
Hmmm.
Reo’s pen clicked again. “Two minutes. Begin. Ask your questions if you have them.”
I breathed in, letting my eyes run the perimeter of Kaoru’s body the way I would trace the edges of a crime photo.
The Dragon’s rules beat in my head like a metronome: three statements. One lie. Ask one question for each. They must tell the truth. No touching.
Kenji’s fingers flexed at my waist like he could hear my thoughts.
I kept my voice calm. “Your first statement was two hundred and thirteen kills. Do you remember your first and last kill?”
“I do.” Kaoru tipped his head. “The first was a man named Uesugi. It happened in a Shinjuku alley behind a hostess bar.”
No hesitation.
No flourish.
“Last was a broker who sold the Dragon’s docks. It happened in a private house in Osaka.”
The answer landed without fanfare.
Even more, the fact that he remembered the number, down to the last digit, made my skin prickle.
From what I understood about psychopaths—and that was mainly book knowledge—after a while. . .they tended to lose count after a hundred. Violence blurred into bloody haze.
But Kaoru?
If he were telling the truth. . .then that would mean that every death mattered to him. He wasn’t boasting. He was recording. Each name logged, each place etched. It was all a private ledger he kept within his soul and he was a man fingering beads on a rosary, but each bead was a body.
Still, the number chilled me.
Reo clicked his pen, reminding me of the time.
I cleared my throat. “Statement two: you have three girlfriends who know about each other.”
I didn’t have a question yet, but I let my gaze travel over him.
Clothes, tattoos, jewelry, people thought they were just fashion. But they were language. Choices we made about what to stitch into our skin or drape across our bodies said more than any words ever could.
A man could lie with his mouth, but his body would betray him.
What one wore was a story that person wanted the world to believe.
What one inked into their flesh was a story that person could never erase.
And Kaoru’s story was written right there—his immaculate suit hugging him like armor, his long pink hair daring the world to underestimate him, and two small hearts inked just under his jawline and connecting to black roses and bullets.
Wait a minute. Two hearts. Not three.
Granted, it would be a big assumption that the hearts represented women. I just couldn’t think why else he would put hearts on his neck like that, right next to bullets.
I leaned in slightly and realized he had two piercings on his left ear too—a diamond stud and a ruby.
Almost like. . .two women were leaving their claim on his ear.
But again. . .not three.
Big assumptions still. . .but what else did I have.
I put my view back on his face. “Question.”
Kaoru smiled at me. “Yes.”
“How many girlfriends do you have?”
Kaoru’s attention cut to Kenji for a heartbeat and then he quickly looked back at me. “Three.”
Hmmm. Looked away from me that time. Interesting. That could be the lie.
“Statement three: you have an addiction to karaoke.” I let myself smirk. “Question. What’s your favorite song to sing?”
Kaoru’s answer came fast. “X Japan’s ‘Endless Rain.’”
The corner of his mouth kicked again, and for a single second his handsome face softened.
Hmmm. I don’t know the song, but he owned that super-fast.
“Twenty seconds.” Reo wrote down something in his notebook.
The test beat in my ribs.
Two truths. One lie.
I considered the first statement. That death body count was insane, but it seemed real. I went back to the two hearts inked under his jaw and the two jeweled piercings.
And that quick glance at Kenji when he said, “three girlfriends.”
I considered the karaoke part. I had no idea if the song he said was even a real song, but he answered so quickly. . .it just felt right.
Fuck. This is actually pretty damn hard considering the fact that I can’t get one wrong.
My heart boomed in my ears.
Which statement should I pick?
Reo adjusted his glasses. “Time is up. What’s your answer, Nyomi?”
Shit. I don’t know.
Kenji let my waist go, stepped back, and studied me.
That made me even more nervous.
I let out a long breath. “Two hundred and thirteen men. I believe it. Your voice and delivery said that was real.”
I tapped my foot. “And the karaoke? You rattled off the title too fast. I feel like. . .that’s a man who’s done that song a dozen times.”
Kaoru pursed his lips.
“But three girlfriends. . .” I took a breath and let my eyes linger on the hearts at his neck.
“I may be heavily assuming and completely wrong, but there are only two hearts inked into your skin. And those studs through your ears—diamond and ruby—look a lot like offerings chosen by two different women who like to mark what they own and both be included together. Plus, you looked at Kenji when you said three which was odd. Maybe, it’s hard for you to look at the person directly when you lie to them.
If that’s true, then you must be a pretty honest person. ”
Everyone remained silent which made my nerves even more frazzled.
I hope I don’t sound dumb as fuck.
I sighed. “So here’s my guess: you have two girlfriends that know about each other. Not three. Which is still quite impressive, but. . .that statement is the lie.”
Silence hesitated at the door like it wanted to come in and sit with us a while. But maybe I was imagining it, twisting doubt spiraling into insecurity because my pulse couldn’t calm down.
What if I had misread everything?
How bad would it be to get the first guy wrong?
Test over. You’re an idiot. Thanks for wasting our time.
If I were wrong, it wouldn’t just be failure—it might be disappointment in Kenji’s eyes, and that was worse than any punishment.
I could live with Kaoru laughing at me, even Reo smirking in his notes, but the thought of Kenji’s cold gaze slicing into me made my stomach knot so tight I thought I might throw up.
And wasn’t that the whole damn ridiculous story of me?
A girl still chasing the one look she never got from her father, still craving the warmth her mother had rationed like it cost too much to give. Neglect had carved a hollow in me, and every man since had either fed it scraps or ignored it completely.
But Kenji?
The Dragon was the only one whose approval and admiration felt like oxygen—and the thought of losing them made my ribs ache like they were collapsing inward.
My chest tightened as the silence continued.
Reo finally broke the quiet. “What was the lie, Kaoru?”
Kaoru’s serious face cracked into something bright and indecent, the charmer peeling itself back on command. “She’s right. Two girlfriends. Not three. That was the lie.”
This great relief poured over me.
Then, Kaoru winked. “But I am looking for a third, if you know a good woman who would love to share a good man.”
Kenji rolled his eyes.
I nervously laughed before I could stop myself.
Holy shit. I got it! Go, Nyomi! Go, Nyomi!
Reo tapped his notebook. “Nyomi: 1 point. Liars: 0. Great start.”
Kaoru stepped back. “It’s not a victory yet, she still has two more.”
Wow. Are you on my side or not?
I filed away that tiny, private victory like a jewel slipped into a hidden sleeve. The first hit. The first high. The game had teeth and I had fingers in its mouth.
Let’s fucking go!
As far as I was concerned, even if I got the others wrong. . .I didn’t look like a complete idiot. I could leave the test with some sense of dignity.
However, I looked to Kenji again, and his expression was cool enough to frost glass. No praise. No warmth. Only that unreadable, imperial patience of the Dragon.
He would not be feeding me on easy wins.
I would have to fully earn his praise.
God. He’s so hardcore. Being one of his men must be hard as fuck to endure.
But that didn’t matter right now. I had to focus only on the test and one man at a time.
Can I figure out the others’ lie?