She was bent forward, her forehead pressed to the carpet and her hands folded in front of her knees in a proper Fusang-style kneeling bow.
On the sofa before her, Yongye lounged against the backrest, both legs propped on the edge of the coffee table. He held an iced Coke in one hand, while the other rested atop Himiko's head, his fingertips idly toying with the plain white cord tied at the ends of her hair.
An utterly languid smile hung on his lips. He looked like a cat that had just eaten its fill, every bone in his body radiating an ease so infuriating it made people's teeth itch.
Himiko knelt on the carpet with her back perfectly straight, but a faint flush colored her ears. Her pale gray eyes were lowered, her lashes casting a small, fine shadow over her cheekbones.
A moment later, she began polishing Yongye's leather shoes.
A polishing cloth lay on the edge of the coffee table. She gripped one corner with her left hand and rested her right on Yongye's boot, rubbing the toe through the cloth with slow, attentive strokes, as though performing something of utmost importance.
Her movements were practiced, carrying the effortless familiarity of a maid helping her master dress, a skill ingrained in her bones.
Diana's pupils widened to their limit in that instant.
Her facial muscles froze. Then indescribable shock and disbelief erupted in her pale blue eyes. She stood in the doorway like a frozen statue.
The queen of Yamatai.
Takamagahara's first-generation Divine Envoy.
A Demigod-level Heroic Spirit who had lived for over a thousand years, then cultivated for another thousand after death.
Kneeling to polish shoes.
Diana's lips opened and closed, then closed and opened, until a dry, broken whisper finally escaped her throat.
"You... you..."