The Yakuza’s Mute Bride novel Chapter 89

Chapter 89

Knock Knock..

Tadashi-sama, Oguri sama has arrived”

Sato’s voice came from the doorway, calm and respectful, as thegh he were announcing nothing more dangerous than a scheduled test meeting. The words themselves, however, felt like stones dropped into still water, sending ripples through the

Tadashi did not look away fron

Not immediately

His gaze remained fixed on my face, dark and intent, as though were something he needed to memorize before it Vanished. I felt it settle over my skin like weight, like an invisible and pressing against my chest, steady and unyielding.

I turned my head slightly and gave Nato a small smile, one I hope looked polite and composed rather than fractured by the thoughts racing through my mind. Sato nodded in response, his expression warm, gentle, and observant in a way that reminded me painfully of Shun-sama.

Tadashi, however, did not soften.

“What does the old man want now?” he asked, his voice low, edg with irritation, still watching me as though the answer might be written across my face.

Sato bowed his head slightly, “It is regarding the Yamasaki and Watanabe clans”

The words struck something deep inside me.

Yamasaki… My breath caught before I could stop it.

Reiko Yamasaki.

The woman who had litted a rifle with cold intent. The woman whose bullet had been meant for Tadashi’s heart but had torn through my shoulder instead. The woman whose hatred ha felt personal, intimate, as though she believed my existence itself was an insult.

I felt a chill crawl slowly up my spine.

Tadashi finally broke eye contact with me and exhaled throughs nose, the sound sharp, controlled, and heavy with finality.

“Tell him I will meet him,” he said.

Then he paused.

The room seemed to hold its breath with him.

“And tell him,” Tadashi added calmly, turning his gaze back to 1 as though he were delivering the information directly into my soul, “that Reiko Yamasaki is dead. I made certain of it.”

The word echoed inside my head.

Dead.

I gasped before I could stop myself, my hand flying to my mout as if that might contain the shock spreading through my body. The finality in his tone terrified me more than the information itself.

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17:28 Thu, Jan 22 GDD .

Chapter 89

There was no anger in his voice.

No cruelty.

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No hesitation.

He spoke of her death as one might speak of a closed account, aesolved inconvenience, a loose thread cut cleanly and discarded.

I watched him turn away and walk toward the waiting guest, his footsteps steady, confident, unburdened.

Death, to him, was not a tragedy.

It was a procedure.

I stood frozen where I was, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.

This man.

The man I loved.

The man who had once brushed my hair back with reverent care who had held my hands as though they were something

sacred.

This man was still Tadashi Masayoshi.

But he was not the Tadashi I had known.

And that realization hurt more deeply than the memory loss itself.

“Are you all right, Naomi-san?” Sato’s voice pulled me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts.

I turned toward him slowly and nodded, though the word “all right” felt distant and almost inappropriate given the storm of emotion inside me.

“I am fine,” I whispered softly.

Sato studied my face for a moment, the way someone does when they see more than what is being said. Then his expression softened.

“I remember,” he said gently, “that you like matcha.”

I blinked, surprised.

“Matcha?” I repeated, my voice still faint but steadier than it had been moments before.

He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small, fond smile. “The chef prepared something special today. A matcha cake. I thought you might enjoy it.”

The gesture was simple.

Small and yet it reached into me with unexpected force.

This place…

This mansion…

The halls still carried echoes of Shun-sama’s presence, of warm now, despite the danger and tension thickening the air, the hous

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layered beneath formality, of care disguised as duty. Even remembered kindness.

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Chapter 89

And for the first time since arriving here, I allowed myself to breathe.

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Sato guided me down the corridor, away from the direction Tad shi had gone, his steps unhurried, his presence grounding. The floors creaked softly beneath our feet, the sound familiar, conforting, almost nostalgic.

As we walked, my thoughts drifted back to Shun-sama.

To the old man who had looked at me not as an inconvenience or a weakness, but as something necessary.

He had known.

I was certain of it now.

He had known that Tadashi was capable of great love and equally capable of great destruction. He had known that without something human anchoring him, Tadashi could become the very monster he feared.

And so he had brought me here.

Not to weaken Tadashi.

But to save him.

The irony tasted bitter now.

Because without his memories of me, Tadashi had reverted to instinct and dominance, stripped of tenderness but not attachment.

And that made him more dangerous than ever.

We entered a smaller sitting room warmed by soft lighting and the faint scent of tea. The chef’s dessert had already been prepared, placed delicately on the table like a small offering of peace.

I sat down slowly, my body still recovering despite appearances, and wrapped my hands around the warm porcelain cup Sato placed in front of me.

The bitterness of the matcha was familiar, grounding.

For a moment, I allowed myself to simply exist.

But my thoughts inevitably returned to Tadashi.

To the way he had said her name.

To the way he had said she was dead.

And to the way his eyes had never truly let me go.

I knew, with unsettling clarity, that he did not see me as a stranger.

He saw me as a problem he could not solve.

As a presence his body recognized even if his mind refused to cooperate.

And that unsettled him deeply.

Which meant I was no longer simply a woman he once loved.

I was now a variable in his world of control.

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Chapter 89

A risk.

A possession.

And perhaps… a threat.

Somewhere in the mansion, doors closed softly.

Voices murmured.

Politics shifted.

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And while Oguri-sama and Tadashi discussed the remnants of old blood feuds and clan politics, I sat quietly with my tea, knowing one undeniable truth: This house was no longer just a place of memory. It was a battlefield.

And whether Tadashi remembered me or not, I was standing at the very center of it. Still loving him. Still fearing him.

And still, inexplicably, hoping that somewhere beneath the steel and shadows, the man who once chose me was still fighting to come back.

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