"Lord Yongye, this is going too..." Nōhime forced the words through her teeth, her voice thick with anger and resentment.
"Do it, or die." Yongye picked up his iced Coke, took a gulp, and slowly swallowed. "Your choice."
Nōhime clenched her jaw until a hard ridge bulged along her cheek. She glared at Yongye's brightly smiling, eminently punchable face for two seconds, then gritted her teeth, walked behind the sofa, and placed both hands on his shoulders.
Her fingertips pressed through the cotton fabric of his black short-sleeved shirt, her touch as light as if she were feeling a mine that could explode at any moment.
Yongye tilted his head and lifted his chin toward Asano Nene.
Asano Nene's eyelashes trembled. Without hesitation, she slid off the armchair and knelt on the carpet beside the sofa, the hem of her plain white kimono spreading across the dark gray pile.
She raised both hands and placed them on Yongye's knees, gently kneading through the fabric of his trousers.
Standing opposite the sofa and adjusting the camera, Lois watched the scene, her mouth twitching.
Oda Nobunaga's wife massaged his left shoulder, while Toyotomi Hideyoshi's wife tapped his right leg.
The bastard between them leaned back on the sofa, holding his iced Coke, and tilted his head to lift his chin at her.
"Let's begin."
Lois took a deep breath, suppressed all those complicated feelings, switched on the video camera, and sat down in the armchair opposite the sofa. She crossed her legs, rested the voice recorder on her knees, opened her notebook to a fresh page, and set her pen against the paper.
She looked up, her light brown eyes fixed on Yongye's face, the sharpness of a professional reporter returning to their depths.
"Mr. President, my first question."
"All eight billion