Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
The first impulse was to laugh that last claim out of the room. But the way he said it made my spine go still. Liars usually dragged their feet. His didn’t. They glided. And the braid, the beads, the white—he wore wealth like he’d been born inside it.
That last one I can believe. He looks like he got bored and left a throne. But if he is royalty. . .how would he end up as Kenji’s Fang? What’s his story?
Reo clicked his pen. “Two minutes.”
Okay. Think.
I let my gaze study Rin the way I would a photograph I had to write truth about. Nails clean, cuticles oiled to a gentle sheen, masculine but manicured hands. The mouth—no smoker’s stain, no tea-darkness, teeth polished, the kind of hygiene that meant wealth or vanity or both.
When he breathed, his shoulders barely moved: deep belly control. A dancer’s economy or a fighter’s. Or a prince’s.
Yeah. He’s royalty. Damn. Third in line? That’s damned close to be hanging with us in this room. I have so many questions! Or. . .maybe he isn’t third in line. Perhaps. . .he’s like tenth in line and that is the lie, but then that would mean. . .the other stuff is true. Ick!
Still, I went back to the first two statements.
My mouth went dry.
A human heart for dinner once a month. A bag over a woman’s head in bed.
Both were insane in their own ways, and I couldn’t even decide which one made my skin crawl the most.
On one hand—eating a heart?
That was horror-movie grotesque.
Where was he getting the hearts?
Did he eat them with something? Rice? Noodles? More human organs?
Yuck!
Was he keeping the human heart in a freezer next to bags of edamame?
On the other hand. . .the bag over the woman’s head.
It was quieter madness. The kind that slipped under your door while you were sleeping. Not messy blood and bone, but psychologically fucked up.
Why would he do that?
Did he keep the bag over her face so he couldn’t look in her eyes?
And if yes. . .what the fuck had happened to him in his childhood?
Sounded like lots of abuse that may have ventured on sexual.
Shame.
Odd erotic torture dealing with purity and degradation.
Yikes.
The more I thought about it, the more twisted it became.
One was barbaric.
The other was deliriously psychologically clinical.
One screamed ritual sacrifice.
The other whispered psychotic fetish in the dark.
And the worst part?
He delivered both statements in the same calm voice. Like either option—snacking on human flesh or suffocating women with fabric—wasn’t insane at all.
I know what the problem is. He’s really good at lying. They saved the best for last.
I frowned at Kenji.
Rin was the true test.
Kenji smiled, probably knowing exactly what I was thinking.
Whatever, Dragon. I’ll still beat you. I hope. . .
I considered the statement and returned my gaze to Rin. “Alright. Statement one.”
My stomach twisted in disgust, but I made sure to not let it show on my face. “You eat a human heart once a month. Question: what’s your preparation for the heart when you eat it? Raw, boiled, or grilled?”
He stalled. It was so small most people would’ve missed it. The first flicker of confusion I’d seen on his face.
He blinked, once, like he’d glanced at a word in a foreign language and needed the dictionary to show up on its own. Then he looked at me the way you look at a stranger who has asked for a secret. “Raw.”
My skin hummed. The word wasn’t wrong. It just didn’t fit him. His nails were too clean, his teeth too unstained, his posture too serene to have swallowed that kind of iron.
Naw. You’re not a raw sort of guy. I could see Satoshi eating a heart raw, but you. . .no way.
Additionally, his answer showed that he didn’t even cook for himself which made sense since I was sure he was royalty.
So. . .he really couldn’t figure out a proper answer to say. You probably should have said, “I don’t know. My cook prepares it.”
Still, I wasn’t completely sure just yet. “Statement two, a bag over a woman’s face while you have sex. What kind of bag?”
“Silk,” he replied instantly.
A slice of disdain cut through the air, like he was annoyed I’d asked a question with such an obvious answer.
I could see Rin yelling at me now. “Of course it would be silk! What am I? A peasant! Only the best bags when I cover a woman’s face while I fuck her.”
My heart thumped twice, hard.
Wow.
The speed of the answer sold it.
People lied slower than they told the truth.
Lies needed manufacturing.
Truth arrived with itself intact.
Dude really is putting silk bags over women’s head while he fucks them? I now have even MORE questions. . .I could write a book on him.
I had to blink a few times just to keep my focus on the test and not go into journalist mode. “Umm. . .statement three.”