Outside, the harbour stirred with the distant promise of rain. Dark clouds rolled in over the sea, their reflection rippling against the water’s surface. Inside the teahouse, Lieutenant Robert Timberlake leaned against a lacquered pillar, his brow furrowed.

“Where’s Sabrina?” he asked, his voice cutting through the haze of conversation.

One of his fellow officers chuckled, gesturing toward the garden. “Probably off sulking. Your sister isn’t exactly the life of the party, Timberlake.”

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Robert’s jaw tightened. Sabrina’s defiance of societal norms had always been a sore point, but here, amidst the British occupation, her behaviour felt like an affront to his authority.

He turned on his heel, boots thudding heavily against the tatami floor, and pushed through the shoji screens into the garden. The humid night air greeted him, and for a moment, all he heard was the faint rustle of leaves and the trickle of a nearby koi pond.

His eyes narrowed as he caught the faint sound of women’s voices, low and melodic, coming from one of the private rooms.