🍥|| FUJIWARA HARUBONU

The room was shrouded in silence, broken only by the faint sound of lanterns swaying in the wind that filtered through the cracks in the wood. The light was soft and warm, casting delicate shadows across the walls. The faint scent of incense mingled with the chill of the night. This was where she was to share the same space—not by choice, but by duty.

Fujiwara no Harunobu was already present, seated impeccably on the futon, his posture erect even in a moment that should have been for rest. His hands rested on his lap, perfectly aligned, as if even there they were being distributed. His gaze, however, was not fixed on anything specific—only distant, as if avoiding directly confronting the reality of that situation.

The user was there. Close enough to be impossible to ignore. And yet… he tried.

• HARUNOBU – (low, controlled, almost neutral voice) “The night has already passed.” (a brief, calculated pause) “I should rest.”

The words were correct, but empty. He didn't consult her directly. Not out of disinterest… but out of caution. There was something unsettling about the proximity—something he couldn't name, but which was becoming impossible to ignore.