Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

“You are waiting,” Kimura Hiroshi said softly, “but not waiting for me to come and stay, but waiting for… a certain moment. For someone.”

A wind rose, and the moonlight on the sea shattered into countless silvery scales. The steam from the hot spring pool was dispersed by the wind, then gathered again, drifting through the corridors of the mansion.

Hiroshi Kimura stood up and picked up the lantern. It was time to rest; he had to get up early tomorrow to change the water in the hot spring, prepare breakfast for the cats, and check every corner of the residence to ensure everything was in top condition.

“Let’s go,” he said to the cat, “it’s time to sleep.”

The older sister jumped off the stone bench and walked gracefully toward the main house. The younger brother followed behind, but halfway there he turned back to look at Kimura Hiroshi to make sure the old man was keeping up.

Five minutes later.

The gale arrived without warning. One moment it was a peaceful spring night, the next, a violent gust of wind descended from the sky like an invisible giant hand, slamming heavily into the courtyard of the Blackstone Mansion.

The three-hundred-year-old cherry tree shook violently, its branches instantly shedding all its blossoms. Pink petals were swept into the air, swirling, fluttering, and scattering. It was as if a cherry blossom snowstorm was falling in the garden, except that this snow was flying from the ground into the sky.

Hiroshi Kimura was walking along the corridor carrying a white lantern when a sudden gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance. He stumbled a few steps and grabbed a pillar for support; the lantern's flame flickered wildly, almost going out. He looked up.

A black helicopter swept past the roof of the official residence, so close that the rivets on its belly and the reflective strips in its paint were almost visible. The huge rotor churned the air, producing a deafening roar that was unlike the hum of an ordinary helicopter, more like the growl of a wild beast.

This had happened before. Young Coast Guard personnel, intrigued by the mysterious mansion perched on the cliff, often used patrols as a pretext to fly low over it in helicopters. They probably wanted to see who lived in this legendary general's residence, and whether socialites bathed in the hot springs, just like in the movies.

But each time, all he did was leave the garden covered in fallen flowers, only increasing Kimura Hiroshi's workload.

"Here we go again!" Kimura Hiroshi shouted angrily, waving his hand. "Gentlemen! Can't you fly a little higher? Cleaning the yard takes a lot of time!"

His voice was completely swallowed up by the roar of the helicopter. The black helicopter didn't care and continued to circle along the outline of the mansion, the wind whipped up by its rotors turning the cherry blossoms into pink vortexes, before it suddenly landed deep in the garden, where the hot spring pool was located.

Hiroshi Kimura was stunned. Wait, landing?

Coast Guard helicopters have never landed before. They just fly over, show off their skills, and then leave. But this time, not only did the helicopter land, but it landed in the garden inside the official residence?

A chill crept up Kimura Hiroshi's spine. It wasn't the Coast Guard. Then who could it be? Who had the authority to land in the gardens of the Black Stone Mansion? And who would dare do such a thing?

He suddenly remembered what the driver had said ten years ago: "They were brought to Japan in a private plane."

Private jet. Private helicopter. Could it be...?

Kimura Hiroshi's heart suddenly raced. He listened intently, and after the gust of wind, he heard a faint sound of water coming from the depths of the garden. It wasn't the sound of a fountain, nor the sound of the wind rippling the water in the pool, but the sound of someone entering the water.

People are bathing in the hot spring pool.

This realization sent a rush of blood to Kimura Hiroshi's head. How could this be? Under his strict management, no servant would ever dare use the master's private hot spring bath. If a thief were to sneak into the mansion, they would be after the valuable antiques, not risk coming in just to soak in the hot spring.

Having eliminated all the impossibilities, what remains is the truth.

The master has arrived.

The black helicopter that flew over the rooftops wasn't from the Coast Guard; it was the owner's personal aircraft. The owner had parachuted directly into the garden and was already taking a bath.

Ten years. A full ten years.

Kimura Hiroshi's hands began to tremble, the lantern swaying in his grasp, the firelight casting frantic shadows within the paper shade. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but adrenaline still surged through his veins. Ten years of waiting, three thousand six hundred and fifty days and nights of vigilance, filling and draining the hot spring pool every morning and evening, wiping the utensils that would never be used, talking to his two cats every day—all of this was finally coming to an end.

No, it's not a period. It's a colon. The wait is over, the service has begun.

"Calm down! Calm down!" he shouted to himself. "You are Kimura Hiroshi, you are a butler certified with the Golden Key, you have served countless celebrities, you cannot lose your composure in front of a sudden master!"

But his brain was already racing, thinking about what to do next.

What should I wear to greet them? A kimono or a suit? A kimono would be traditional and dignified, befitting the Blackstone Mansion. A suit would be more formal, in accordance with international etiquette. Should I quickly wake the sleeping maids? It's the middle of the night; they're probably already asleep, but if their master requires it, they must be dressed and present in their designated positions within five minutes.

Should we prepare a late-night snack? The host has traveled a long way and must be hungry. Japanese ochazuke? A Western-style sandwich? Or perhaps warm a pot of sake to accompany some fresh seasonal sashimi?

Too many questions, too many choices. Kimura Hiroshi never dreamed that his master would arrive in this way, at this time. No notice, no appointment, just like a gust of wind, coming without warning.

Wait, the wind...

Hiroshi Kimura realized something. If the host's first action was to soak in the hot spring, it meant he wasn't one for pomp and circumstance. Soaking in a hot spring was a leisurely enjoyment, a time to relax the mind and body; a large group of people running around serving him would only disrupt that tranquility. But obviously, no one serving him wouldn't do either; someone had to prepare the eggs for boiling in the hot spring, someone had to hand him towels, and someone had to warm the sake.

Chapter 458 My name is Su Enxi

"Let's go take a look first," Kimura Hiroshi said to himself, "and adjust the service according to the owner's needs."

He took off running towards the garden, his movements so swift that they seemed nothing like those of a sixty-seven-year-old. The lantern swayed in his hand, its light casting his running shadow on the walls of the corridor.

On the corridor leading to the hot spring pool, Kimura Hiroshi suddenly stopped. He saw clothes. Not neatly folded clothes, but clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor, as if someone had taken them off and thrown them away one by one in a hurry or in a relaxed state.

The first thing that catches the eye is a pair of pointed-toe stilettos, black patent leather, with the iconic Christian Louboutin red soles. The shoes are casually kicked at the corner of the corridor, one standing upright and the other leaning to one side.

A few steps further, there was a crumpled-up suit, dark gray, with excellent tailoring. Kimura Hiroshi picked it up and unfolded it, seeing the tag inside the neckline: Christian Dior, size 2. This was the smallest size, usually suitable for women around 165-170 cm tall and weighing around 50 kg.

Next to the skirt suit were black stockings, Wolford brand, top quality, as thin as a cicada's wing, but now they lay on the ground like shed snakeskin.

Further along, near the wooden door leading to the hot spring pool, Kimura Hiroshi spotted even more intimate clothing: black lace lingerie, La Perla, also in the smallest size. Next to the lingerie were sunglasses with tiny letters on the temples; Kimura Hiroshi leaned closer to see that they read "CARTIER".

Finally, a bronze key was hanging on the handle of the sliding door to the hot spring pool.

It's the key to the main gate of the Black Stone Mansion, bronze in color, with the Tokugawa family's three-leaf hollyhock crest engraved on the handle. There are only two of these keys; one hangs on Kimura Hiroshi's waist, and the other was sent ten years ago along with that Swiss bank draft and has never been used.

Until tonight.

Hiroshi Kimura stood amidst the scattered clothes, his mind racing through the information. Christian Dior suit, Christian Louboutin high heels, Wolford stockings, La Perla lingerie, Cartier sunglasses—all top international brands, all women's products, all styles chosen by young, capable, and wealthy urban women.

His image of his master underwent a complete 180-degree turn in his mind.

Over the course of ten years, Kimura Hiroshi imagined his master's appearance countless times. Initially, he envisioned him as the chairman of a multinational corporation, a middle-aged man in a suit and tie, with a serious expression. Later, upon learning that his master bought anime merchandise, he imagined a young, wealthy man obsessed with anime, perhaps dressed in trendy brands, wearing extravagant headphones, and exuding an aura of "I don't care about worldly opinions." Eventually, he simply gave up imagining, thinking that his master was probably just an eccentric person who couldn't be fathomed by common sense.

But he never imagined that his owner would be a young woman.

A young woman dressed in a Christian Dior suit, Christian Louboutin red-soled shoes, and Cartier sunglasses. She sounds more like a Wall Street financier or the heiress of a family business—rigorous, sophisticated, and meticulous.

How could someone like that do something so crazy as to "buy a historical building in fifteen minutes and then leave it idle for ten years"?

Hiroshi Kimura crouched down, carefully examining the clothes. The skirt suit was of excellent quality, a new style for the season, and cost at least 500,000 yen. The heels of the high heels had slight wear, indicating that the owner wore them frequently. The stockings were brand new, worn for the first time today. As for the underwear, he looked away, unwilling to look.

From these clothes, Kimura Hiroshi can sketch out a general image: in his 20s, 165-170 cm tall, weighing around 50 kg, with a slender but well-proportioned figure, extremely wealthy, with a taste that leans towards classic rather than trendy, and a personality that may be rigorous or even rigid, at least in appearance.

But what about inside? Inside, there might be someone who would spend a fortune on Rei Ayanami body pillows and Chun-Li figurines.

"Schizophrenia," the driver's joke from ten years ago suddenly echoed in Hiroshi Kimura's mind. Perhaps it wasn't a joke. Perhaps the man truly did have two completely different faces. By day, a Wall Street elite; by night, a die-hard anime otaku. Or perhaps the other way around.

He shook his head, dismissing these chaotic thoughts. Regardless of what kind of person his master was, his duty now was to fulfill his role as butler.

Hiroshi Kimura straightened up, adjusted the collar and hem of his kimono, then took a deep breath and stood by the door of the hot spring. He bowed slightly and said in a clear and respectful voice:

"Welcome to the Blackstone Residence, Butler Kimura Hiroshi!"

A soft laugh came from inside the door, like wind chimes tinkling in the night breeze.

"Oh ho ho, it's great that someone's still awake so late at night," the young woman said, her voice clear and slightly languid. "Do you have any eggs? I'd like some hot spring boiled eggs."

Boiled eggs in hot springs. A classic Japanese pastime while soaking in hot springs. Eggs, still in their shells, are placed in a net bag and submerged in the hot spring water, where they are slowly cooked using the heat. By the time you're sweating profusely, the eggs are perfectly cooked. Peel them open to reveal a smooth egg white and a semi-solid yolk. Enjoy them with chilled sake for the ultimate indulgence.

However, the hot spring water at Blackstone Mansion is around 42 degrees Celsius, so boiling eggs takes a long time. Guests usually inform the staff in advance, and the butler will prepare a small charcoal stove by the pool to boil the eggs in the hot spring water.

“Yes! I’ll go get the eggs right away, please wait a moment!” Kimura Hiroshi replied immediately.

He turned and strode quickly toward the kitchen, his mind racing. The master wanted boiled eggs in the hot spring, but clearly didn't want to wait too long. He'd use the kitchen stove to partially cook them first, then put them in the hot spring to keep them warm. The sake should be chilled, but not too cold, or it would upset his stomach. The sake set should be that antique celadon set from the Edo period, fitting the atmosphere of the official residence. The tray should be made of cypress, with its natural fragrance.

Less than a minute later, Kimura Hiroshi returned to the outside of the hot spring pool carrying a tray. On the tray were two soft-boiled eggs, a small jug of chilled Kubota Manju sake, a pair of celadon sake cups, and a white towel.

He was slightly out of breath, but spoke calmly: "I also brought a bottle of sake, along with eggs."

"Bring it in," the voice inside said.

Through the washi paper covering the sliding door, Kimura Hiro could vaguely make out the silhouette of its owner. She sat by the pool, her body slender and graceful, stretching, her arms raised above her head, her waist relaxed.

"Yes, ma'am." Kimura Hiroshi opened the sliding door and carried the tray into the hot spring area.

This was a place he knew all too well. The stone-built hot spring pool was about five meters square, and the water was a natural hot spring drawn directly from underground, maintaining a temperature of 42 degrees Celsius year-round. The pool was surrounded by smooth pebbles, and several old cherry trees grew out of the cracks in the rocks, their branches drooping towards the water. At night, the candlelight from the stone lanterns reflected on the water, and cherry blossom petals drifted into the pool, swaying with the waves, creating a scene of otherworldly beauty.

But tonight, there's one more person by the pond.

The girl, Kimura Hiroshi was now certain, was a young woman sitting by the pool. She wasn't actually bathing; she was just dipping her calves in the water, kicking them slowly. She wore a pale white silk bathrobe, which clung to her body, outlining her slender yet curvaceous figure. But Kimura Hiroshi hesitated to use the word "sexy" to describe her; it was an inappropriate word for her.

She stood with her back to Kimura Hiroshi, facing the sea. Her long hair cascaded down her back like a black waterfall, the ends curling slightly as it rose and fell gently in the night breeze. Her posture was relaxed, yet carried an indescribable air of authority, like a queen sitting on her throne, gazing upon her domain.

"Just put it on that stone table over there," the girl said without turning around, simply pointing to a low stone table by the pool.

Kimura Hiroshi placed the tray on the stone table as instructed. He noticed an empty glass with amber liquid remaining at the bottom—whiskey? Beside the girl was a small silver flask, its body gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

“My name is Su Enxi,” the girl finally turned around and smiled slightly at Kimura Hiroshi. “My friends call me Enxi. Good evening, Mr. Kimura.”

Her face was fully exposed to the interplay of moonlight and candlelight.

Chapter 459 The Sea and Sky Meet

Hiroshi Kimura has seen many beautiful women. In his more than thirty years of service, he has met countless female celebrities, socialites, and ladies of high society. But Su Enxi's beauty is different. It is not the carefully crafted beauty of the entertainment industry, nor the pampered beauty of the aristocracy, but a clear and profound beauty.

Her features were delicate but not ostentatious, her skin had a porcelain-like luster in the moonlight, and her eyes were dark brown, with pupils that would slightly dilate or contract as the light changed, as if they could absorb all the light.

What was most striking about her was her eyes. They held a calm beyond her years, a complex mix of worldly wisdom and a lingering curiosity. Kimura Hiroshi had seen similar eyes in the eyes of some octogenarians, but never in the eyes of a girl in her twenties.

"So ENXI is just the pinyin of a Chinese name," Kimura Hiroshi said suddenly. "No wonder I couldn't figure it out no matter how many times I tried to guess it using Hebrew, Latin, and French."

Su Enxi smiled gently, but Kimura Hiroshi dared not relax; instead, he became even more cautious. Having served many powerful and influential people throughout his life and witnessed the difference between the ostentatious nouveau riche and true aristocrats in high society, he understood.

People who have just gained power are very arrogant, eager to show off their achievements to the world—look, I have so much! After a while, they become authoritative without being angry, speak less, but when they do speak, they are full of authority—you must listen to what I say.

However, this is only half-baked knowledge; those in real power are generally quite lazy.

Su Enxi's eyes held the languor of someone at the pinnacle of power.

But she's only in her early twenties. At her age, even if she comes from a wealthy family, she should still be in the early stages of her career, still striving to prove herself. How could she already be tired of power?

“I flew all the way from Hong Kong to see the tides,” Su Enxi said, turning back to gaze at the sea. “My schedule is very tight.”

Hong Kong. The flight from Hong Kong to Japan takes about four hours. Her statement about a "rushed schedule" likely means she just finished work in Hong Kong and flew to Japan overnight just to see the tides?

"You've worked hard," Kimura Hiroshi said, bowing slightly. "We are all your servants, ready to serve you at any time. There might be no high tide tonight; the weather bureau hasn't given any notice."

“There’s a high tide, in 5 minutes,” Su Enxi said, her tone calm but firm, “the tsunami will arrive here.”

Hiroshi Kimura was stunned. A tsunami?

He looked out to sea. Sagami Bay was calm tonight, the moonlight like silver foil, the water shimmering. In the distance, fishing lights twinkled, and nearby, the waves gently lapped against the black reefs below the cliffs. Everything was normal; there was no sign of an approaching tsunami.

“Not long ago, a massive underwater volcano erupted in Japan,” Su Enxi continued, as if she were talking about something trivial. “Look at the surface of the water.”

Hiroshi Kimura looked down at the hot spring pool.

Su Enxi stopped kicking the water, but new ripples appeared on the surface. These weren't ripples caused by the wind, but rather ripples that surged from the center of the pool, expanding in concentric circles. Fires were lit in the stone lanterns beside the hot spring pool, and the firelight reflected in the water; the once still spots of light now began to sway and shatter.

Gradually, water droplets began to rise from the center of the pool. One after another.