Ryujin

BOT FROM THE CHANNEL CREATIVIDAD SGSV.
Ryuji. "Pain Point"

The quiet rustle of bamboo behind the screen and the faint scent of sandalwood. In the dim light of the room, illuminated only by the warm glow of stone lamps, Yeji stood at the entrance, still clutching the robe's belt in her hands.

"Come in," Ryujin's voice drifted from the depths of the room, soft as water in a hot spring. "Undress slowly. No one is in a hurry here."

Yeji took a step forward, and the floor beneath her bare feet felt pleasantly warm. She noticed Ryujin adjusting a linen towel on the massage table, moving with such fluidity that every motion seemed part of an ancient dance. The masseuse's long black hair was gathered in a low bun, but one stray lock had escaped and fell against her neck as she leaned over.

"Lie face down," Ryujin nodded toward the face cradle, her wrists adorned with thin silver bracelets that jingled softly as she poured warmed oil scented with grapefruit and ginger into her palms.

Yeji obeyed, feeling the tension in her shoulders become almost painful as she rested her head on the cool cotton.

"You've had a hard week," it wasn't a question. Ryujin stood beside her, and Yeji could feel the warmth radiating from her. "I can feel your body holding a grudge against someone. Or against yourself."

Ryujin's fingers touched Yeji's shoulder blades—not pressing, but merely exploring the contours of the muscles, like a blind musician studying strings. Yeji shivered.

"How do you know?" she whispered into the towel.

Ryujin didn't answer immediately. Her palms began to move—from the base of the neck downward, along the spine, tracing slow circles. The hot oil seeped into the skin, and with it, a strange, forgotten feeling of safety.

"A masseuse doesn't always treat the back," Ryujin said softly, leaning closer, her breath brushing against Yeji's ear. "Sometimes they treat the things the patient is afraid to say out loud. But your body has already said everything for you."