Chapter 5 THE MIYUKI THEATER Part 3

— Mei POV

Sachi leads us into a small, cozy room with two couches facing each other and a low table in between. Someone has already arranged a tea set, ceramic cups in a neat row, and a pot sending up gentle steam.

I drop onto the closest couch, wedged between Declan and Emeka, and immediately feel my body relax. Sonja takes the far end, crosses her legs, and sets herself up like she’s about to be photographed. Cal, Xiao Shen, and Ren take the couch across from us.

Of course they do.

I glance down at my cup and let myself breathe for a second.

Naomi moves quietly around the table, filling each cup without a word. When she gets to me, she gives a small, neutral smile. I return it and wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, grateful for the heat.

Across from me, Cal takes a sip, and I watch his shoulders relax just a little. I’ve learned to read his moods in tiny shifts. Two degrees of relaxation is actually a lot for him.

Sachi drags over a chair, flips it around, and straddles it backward. The move is so dramatic it almost seems normal for him.

“I might as well begin before she arrives,” he says, dropping his voice lower. Everyone immediately goes quiet. Even Sonja stops checking her nails.

“And by she,” Sachi continues, pausing just long enough to build anticipation, “I mean Miss Toki Miyuki.”

The name just hangs there.

I know that name. Anyone from the city does. Mr. Miyuki built the whole theater chain from scratch and was beloved in the arts community before he died. When he left everything to his daughter, it was front-page news for weeks.

“Mr. Miyuki’s daughter?” Sonja asks, leaning forward. “What does she have to do with this?”

Sachi wraps both hands around his cup and sighs, deep and tired. “Everything. Mr. Miyuki’s death was sudden, as you may know. In his will, Miss Miyuki got everything—the fortune, the properties, all of it.” He puts his cup down. “And now she wants to close the theaters.”

Cal’s eyes sharpen.

“Mr. Sachi. When we spoke on the phone, you reported a haunting. You’re not about to tell me you think the ghost responsible is—”

“Mr. Miyuki himself.” Sachi cuts in, voice unexpectedly firm. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I saw him with my own eyes. We were very close in life. I know his face. He’s come back to this theater because of what his daughter plans to do with his life’s work.”

The room goes quiet.

“I’ve seen him too,” Naomi says from the end of the couch. Her voice is softer, but it lands just as hard. She’s staring at her cup. “In my powder room. Twice.”

Cal fixes her with that steady look. “Twice?”

She meets his eyes without hesitation. “Twice.”

There’s something about the way she says it that makes me believe her, more than just the words. Naomi Stiles doesn’t fake things. What you see is what you get, and right now what she’s giving off is real discomfort. Whatever she saw in that room is still weighing on her.

“Nonsense.”

The word comes from the doorway.

We all turn.

The woman standing there looks about a year older than me. She has straight blonde hair that falls past her shoulders and wears clothes that could have come straight out of a magazine, completely out of place in a small town. Her arms are crossed and her expression is cool in a way that clearly takes effort.

Toki Miyuki doesn’t look like someone grieving. She looks like someone who’s decided not to be.

Sachi’s jaw hardens.

“Miss Miyuki. These are our guests. You’re being rude.”

“I’m being honest,” she says, stepping in. Her eyes sweep over us, quick and sharp. She lingers on Cal for a moment, then moves on. “You brought in a paranormal team. By definition, nothing will seem like nonsense to them. I’m just saying it first.”

Cal sets his cup down.

“We’re not offended, Miss Miyuki. TFP investigates for evidence, paranormal or otherwise. We follow the truth, wherever it leads.”

Sachi’s face flickers with an emotion I can’t quite read.

Toki nods, tight and businesslike, almost as if Cal just agreed with her without realizing it.

“Good. Because the only truth here is that there is no ghost. There’s a building that costs more to run than it earns, and two people who have every reason to keep it open.” She looks at Sachi, then at Naomi. “I’m not calling you liars. I’m saying you’re stalling.”

Naomi’s cup hits the table.

“You dare—”

“You dare accuse Joji?” Her voice stays low and controlled, which honestly feels more intense than if she’d yelled. “He would never use your father’s memory. Not for anything.”

“He would if it meant saving the theater,” Toki says, as if it’s just a fact. “And you know it.”

Sachi stands up.

“I’ve given fifteen years to this building. Fifteen years to your father’s vision. I would never—”

“You’ve convinced the whole town my father’s ghost is walking these halls.” Toki’s voice doesn’t rise. That’s what makes it so unsettling—she doesn’t need to shout to cut deep. “You turned a grieving community into your audience, using their love for him to stall what should be a straightforward financial decision.”

The air in the room feels tight.

“I’m actually glad you’re all here.” She fixes her eyes on Cal again and this time she doesn’t look away. “You’ll see through this. Then I can close the building and stop wasting everyone’s time.”

She leaves.

Nobody says anything for three full seconds.

Then Sachi sits back down, heavier than before, and for the first time since we arrived, the performance is gone. He just looks tired.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “That’s not how I wanted this evening to go.”

Naomi stares at the door Toki just walked out of, wearing a look I know all too well. It’s the look you have when there’s more you want to say, but you’re holding it back.

I glance at Cal.

His face is unreadable, but I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it too.

Someone in this room is telling the truth.

We just don’t know who it is yet.