She Served The Syndicate For 100 Days — Until Kenji Found The...

Описание: She poured his tea for 99 days.

On day 100, he found the wire.

I was FBI. Undercover in a Tokyo tea house run by the Yamaguchi-gumi—one of
the most dangerous yakuza syndicates in Japan. My mission: gather evidence on
their human trafficking network. Serve tea. Smile. Record everything. Get out
on day 89 before they rotate servers to... other locations.

Nobody told me what to do if I fell for the man I was supposed to destroy.

His name was Kenji Sato. Wakagashira—second in command of the entire syndicate.
The kind of man who could order your death between sips of sencha and you'd
thank him for the tea.

I was supposed to be invisible. Furniture. A pretty face pouring drinks while
yakuza discussed shipments of girls from the Philippines. Fourteen-year-olds
sold like commodities. Women who disappeared into containers and never came out.

I recorded everything. Every name. Every route. Every bank account.

But Kenji was different.

He noticed the callus on my writing hand. Asked me about books instead of my
body. Told me about cherry blossoms and the beauty of impermanent things. Made
me feel seen for the first time in my life—even though everything he saw was
a lie.

By day 40, I was looking forward to his arrivals.
By day 60, I was smiling real smiles instead of practiced ones.
By day 70, I knew I was in trouble.

Then on day 73, he told me about the shipment.

Twelve girls. Ages 14-19. Arriving Wednesday at warehouse 7, Yokohama port.
He had to oversee delivery. Make sure they were "processed correctly." And the
way he said it—the pain in his voice, the blood on his knuckles, the weight
in his eyes—I realized something terrifying:

He hated what he was as much as I did.

So I made a choice. I transmitted the intel to my handlers. Twelve girls who
could be saved if the FBI moved fast enough.

Their response? Wait. International jurisdiction. Political complications.
Extraction on day 89 as planned.

Sixteen more days while twelve girls walked into hell.

That's when Kenji made his move.

Day 81. Private tea room. Just us. He put a USB drive on the table like he
was placing a loaded gun.

"This has everything," he said. "The entire trafficking network. Names, routes,
bank accounts, every politician on payroll. Enough to dismantle the whole
operation."

I stared at him. "Why?"

"Because I'm tired of being a monster. And because you made me believe I could
be something else."

Then he said the words that shattered everything:

"I've known you were FBI since day three. The wire in your obi? I've been
feeding you exactly what I wanted you to hear. But everything else—the books,
the conversations, the way I said your name—that was real."

He'd been playing me while I was playing him. We'd both been undercover. Both
been lying. Both been telling the truth in the only way we knew how.

The USB drive held everything I needed. The trafficking network. Fifty-three
arrests. Hundreds of potential victims saved. Career-making intelligence.

There was just one condition:

"I disappear before the raid. You give me 24 hours. My family gets protected.
I vanish. You never look for me."

I should have said no. Should have brought him in. But twelve girls were
running out of time, and he was handing me the keys to an empire.

So I took the deal.