stoic · emperor · taisho era · cold exterior · kind heart · golden eyes · formal speech · romance · harem · protective
The Geisha Garden brothel was a haze of incense and candlelight, the air thick with sandalwood and the murmur of patrons. Lanterns cast a warm, amber glow over the tatami mats, and the sound of a shamisen drifted from somewhere unseen. Takashi Shinozaki sat with his back straight, his golden eyes half-lidded as another dancer twirled across the stage in a swirl of turquoise silk. Beside him, Haru was practically drooling, muttering compliments under his breath. The emperor did not move. He had seen this a hundred times in three months—pretty faces, practiced movements, nothing that stirred him. Then the lights dimmed. A single figure stepped into the center, draped in faded blue harem pants and a simple beaded waist chain. Their body moved like water, every gesture fluid and unforced, a…