Author's Note: I should be all strategic and withhold this chapter in order to stick to a more consistent update schedule like Responsible Writers do... but I feel like I can't fully devote myself to the next chapter until I post this one. So here you go! Enjoy!

Why is it that the look of another person looking at you is different from everything else in the Cosmos? That is to say, looking at lions or tigers or Saturn or the Ring Nebula or at an owl or at another person from the side is one thing, but finding yourself looking in the eyes of another person looking at you is something else. And why is it that one can look at a lion or a planet or an owl or at someone's finger as long as one pleases, but looking into the eyes of another person is, if prolonged past a second, a perilous affair? ― Walker Percy, Lost in the Cosmos: The Last Self-Help Book

Miyu had expected to awaken in the wee hours of the morning due to her early bedtime, but she was surprised to find it was almost six o' clock once she pulled open the blackout curtains to let in the gray morning light. She went so far as to crack the window open to let in the cool air. It smelled of summer. If only it would be sunny today, so she could explore the grounds and maybe even venture outside the front gate.

She had an urge to go out and wander the garden in the morning dew like some sort of bohemian nature child, but quickly thought better of it when she considered that Subaru might see her and fly into a rage over her careless curfew violation. It was safer to stay in her room. She indulged her bohemian fantasy in a more constrained way by putting her hair into an elaborate fishtail braid and pinning it over the top of her head - it struck her as rather Heidi-esque. If she wasn't allowed to wear makeup, at least doing her hair nicely would bolster her confidence a bit. She idly examined it in the mirror and wondered if she would run into any of the patients today.

With nothing else to do and half an hour remaining (she really needed to ask about Internet access), Miyu began paging through the book on traditional medicine that Mr. Sakamaki had lent her. As much as she wanted to avoid thinking about him, she ought to look up any information she could find on the Metal Sheep to formulate a strategy for handling him.

She started by checking the index for the Metal Sheep birth years. Since there was no possible way that Mr. Sakamaki could have been born in 1871 or 1931 (although that might explain his ridiculous obsession with manners), apparently his birth year was 1991. That would make him 32 years old. He looked younger than that - if she was honest with herself, he looked closer to 21, her own age - but Miyu supposed he wouldn't be a full-fledged traditional medicine practitioner if he was still in his early 20s.

The information on the Metal Sheep looked correct at first glance, but it seemed to put an unreasonably positive spin on him. Miyu forced herself to read about his strengths first. Although she would prefer not to acknowledge that he had any positive qualities at all, she grudgingly agreed that he did indeed seem intelligent, reliable, tidy, persuasive, and hardworking. She was less convinced that he was a deeply loyal, self-sacrificing, artistically minded animal and nature lover.

When it came to his weaknesses, she wrote down every single one in a neat list - "domineering, jealous, overprotective, insecure, vain, secretly vulnerable, internalizes pain and negative emotions, fearful of criticism, perfectionist, represses true feelings, meddlesome." She was already keenly aware of many of these traits, but several puzzled her.

Mr. Sakamaki was always picking her apart, and seemed like the type to simply ignore others' criticism, so why would he fear it?

He was always telling her exactly what he thought about this and that, with no filter except for his faux politeness - so what was this about repressing true feelings?

And "jealous" didn't seem to fit at all. From what Miyu could tell, Mr. Sakamaki's sense of superiority over others meant he would never feel envious of anyone. Unless the book was referring to jealousy in a romantic sense... but she found even that hard to imagine. He was so self-assured. He probably would hardly even notice another man chasing his woman, or dismiss it as a ridiculously lame attempt to steal what was his. And jealousy would imply that he had the capacity for actual feelings towards other human beings, other than pure disdain.

Miyu mulled over the list of weaknesses for a bit, trying to think of some coherent strategy to employ against him, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps she needed information more tailored to their particular situation. A quick scan of the index revealed that she could look up relationships between different zodiac animals and elements, and she eagerly turned to the section on the Sheep and Horse.

They were listed as not only highly compatible, but so-called secret friends: "a pair of zodiac signs who will offer unfailing support and protection to each other." Miyu had to double-check to ensure the book really was referring to the Sheep and Horse. Based on their interactions thus far, she had expected them to be listed as mortal enemies.

Then again, this only proved how unreasonable Mr. Sakamaki was, she thought grimly. If their personalities were supposed to be compatible, shouldn't they naturally get along in the workplace? How could the man be so insufferable as to single-handedly override their zodiac compatibility? After briefly wallowing in her outrage, she began a careful perusal of the section.

"The Sheep's benevolent nature helps them to overlook the self-centered tendencies of the Horse..."

"The calm and patient Sheep is well-equipped to handle the Horse's negative attitudes and impulsive behavior with loving redirection..."

"The stability and domesticity of the Sheep offers the chaotically wandering Horse a safe haven in a harsh world..."

Miyu wondered if Mr. Sakamaki had somehow edited the book to make the Sheep look better.

"The Sheep may feel the Horse's optimism is misguided, while the Horse may perceive the Sheep as passive-aggressive..."

Interesting. She wrote it down. If a continual barrage of polite optimism would drive Mr. Sakamaki slowly insane, she was all too willing to try it.

"The Horse has an intuitive ability to understand the Sheep's needs..."

Miyu snorted. If a death grip of total control over all things qualified as a need, then yes, she understood Mr. Sakamaki perfectly.

"Both must learn to compromise... mutual desire for adoration... differences drive them together rather than apart..."

Was there nothing negative? No section on how to deal with problems?

"Passionate and intense physical compatibility" - what? - ugh - she skipped the rest of that paragraph, but not before seeing the phrase "the Sheep's powerful sensuality" and shuddering involuntarily.

"Male Sheep in particular must make an effort to be less controlling and possessive, and give Female Horses the independence they need to thrive."

"Yes!" Miyu said out loud. She copied down the sentence verbatim and cited the page number. Maybe someday, somehow, she could find a way to convey this important fact to Mr. Sakamaki. Unfortunately, it was the only brilliant insight of its kind. This was the end of the section.

Perhaps reading about the Metal-Water relationship would yield more helpful results. She flipped through the book until she found it. Of course it started off by calling Metal-Water "an auspicious relationship." She wished she was surprised.

"As both elements are yin in nature, Metal and Water understand each other well. As a natural leader" - make that "dictator," Miyu thought - "Metal takes pleasure in nurturing Water, while Water takes pleasure in the sense of security that Metal provides. These two elements have the strength and compatibility to form a dynasty."

No. No. There would be no dynasty. What was that even supposed to mean?

"The feminine energy of a Water woman makes her particularly well-suited to be the wife of a strong-willed Metal man. The dominating and aggressive nature of Metal people necessitates a subordinate, self-sacrificing spouse."

Miyu cringed, trying not to let her thoughts get anywhere near where the book was headed. Why was this book so obsessed with love compatibility? Shouldn't there be pointers on coexisting in harmony with coworkers or friends or things like that? She closed the book without finishing the paragraph, wishing that she could somehow un-read every word.

And then she cringed even harder as it occurred to her that Mr. Sakamaki must have read all of it already, or some approximation of the same content in other books. He'd had plenty to say about her being a Water Horse, after all. And he'd practically bragged about his association with the Metal element that first night in his office. Did he think they were destined to be some sort of well-balanced dream team - the authoritative Metal Sheep boss who masterfully kept his unruly Water Horse subordinate in line?

She felt the twinge of a sudden, disconcerting thought: had he revealed his element and animal on purpose knowing that she would look up information on him? Was this his twisted way of controlling how she would react to him - by giving her access to a deliberately curated collection of data?

But then how was she to move forward? If she took action based on what she'd read in the book, he would know she was trying to manipulate him. And if she ignored it all and chugged forward obliviously, she might be inadvertently pushing all his buttons, which would doubtless make her life quite unpleasant. There was no way to win.

Should she try to forget about him and focus on herself instead? Build up a consistent persona that never wavered, regardless of his behavior?

But she was accustomed to being a chameleon. And if she reinforced his Yang Water Horse expectations of her, she would only become more predictable to him. If she did the opposite, he would know she was acting against her true personality. And he seemed to hate duplicity more than anything.

Miyu wished that she had asked Subaru more questions about Mr. Sakamaki. Subaru might have been reluctant to share information, but he didn't seem capable of outright lying, and his explosive nature oddly made Miyu feel like she could trust him. Unlike Mr. Sakamaki, whose impeccable self-control was concealing who knew what beneath the surface.

She glanced at the legacy Subaru had left in her room - the dented wall and torn pillowcase (when was she going to mend that?) - before her gaze fell on the alarm clock. It was quarter to seven, almost time for breakfast. She set the book and her handwritten notes aside. If she survived the morning acupuncture session with Mr. Sakamaki, she would head to the library and borrow books on every potentially useful topic she could find - the zodiac, general psychology, "The Art of War," and anything else that might give her a fighting chance against him. That was her self-assigned homework for the day.

She came to the dining area a few minutes early in the hopes of seeing the kitchen staff setting out the meal – any non-Sakamaki face would be welcome, really – but she was greeted with the tall form of Mr. Sakamaki sitting at the already-loaded table, reading a thick book. Although she walked loudly on purpose to make her presence known, he did not acknowledge her until she said good morning to him. He looked tired.

Miyu lacked the courage to immediately employ her strategy of grating optimism, and settled for being as polite and unobtrusive as possible. They ate breakfast in complete silence after she thanked Mr. Sakamaki for the food. He kept glancing over at his book as though he would rather be reading than eating. Upon the conclusion of the meal, he gave her a small earthenware bowl of mud-colored herbal medicine and demonstrated how to heat it indirectly by placing it in a larger bowl of hot water. She had never tasted anything so much like dirt in her life, but Mr. Sakamaki's unrelenting gaze motivated her to choke it all down quickly. He informed her that from now on, she would be taking a dose of herbal medicine after every meal, and then invited her into the kitchen.

"You are expected to wash your own dishes as a daily practice of personal responsibility," he said. "I originally intended to show you proper dishwashing procedure yesterday, but did not due to the delay in the schedule caused by your late waking. Thus, I will demonstrate for you today."

"Thank you," Miyu said. Maybe if she thanked him for anything and everything, it would put him in an agreeable mood.

"Doubtless you have noticed the lack of visible staff," he said. "This facility was originally designed as a private residence in the 19th century, with a network of separate corridors and staircases to ensure that servants stayed out of sight and out of the way. This kitchen is actually the renovated butler's pantry, which explains its small size. It connects the breakfast room, where you have been dining thus far, with the formal dining room, which is currently off limits."

He motioned to a bed-sized alcove in the wall, lined with narrow shelves. "Over a hundred years ago, the butler used to sleep there to guard the silver cutlery. After all, the difficulty of procuring trustworthy employees is an age-old problem." He cast Miyu a glace that suggested she numbered among the untrustworthy. She schooled her face into the most naive expression she could manage.

"This kitchen is merely for the recreational use of the patients," he continued, opening the refrigerator to reveal a motley assortment of foods. "As you can see, individual ingredients are labeled with their owners' names. You are not to touch or consume food that belongs to the patients."

Miyu peered inside to see pudding cups labeled "Kanato," a package of multicolored pastel macarons labeled "Laito," and a plastic basket overflowing with various small packages, the basket itself labeled "Ayato" in horrible handwriting. Two shelves, labeled "Shu" and "Subaru," were empty. Reiji appeared to be some sort of gourmand, as he had the bottom drawers and the entire door to himself.

On top of Ayato's pile was a bag of red pickled ginger that looked exactly like the one Subaru had given her. Miyu leaned in for a closer look, but Mr. Sakamaki cleared his throat and swung the door shut.

"The functional kitchen, fully staffed and in charge of actual meal preparation, still operates out of its original basement location. These dumbwaiters" - he motioned to two square doors in the wall - "are used for transporting meals up to this level, and dirty dishes and leftover food back down to the basement. Meal dumbwaiter on the right, dirty dish dumbwaiter on the left. Do not confuse them."

He opened the door on the left to reveal an enormous dish rack. "After loading the dumbwaiter, ensure that the doors are closed securely" - he closed them with a rattle - "and press the appropriate button." After he pressed it, a faint clattering emanated from behind the doors. "Do not open the doors while the dumbwaiter is in motion. It could result in serious injury. Also, I should not need to tell you this, but attempting to enter or ride the dumbwaiters is strictly forbidden."

He seemed to want a response. "I understand," Miyu said. She longed to ask whether anyone had attempted to ride the dumbwaiters before, but concluded that it might give him the wrong idea of her intentions.

"I hope for your own sake that you do understand. Let us move on to your dishwashing lesson."

After Miyu ferried all the dishes from table to sink, Mr. Sakamaki began with a lecture on how pure silver cutlery needed to be dried immediately with a non-abrasive cloth to prevent water stains, noting Miyu's negligence to do so the day before. Then he gave her a comically long apron and a pair of rubber gloves. A second lecture commenced, in which he laid out a three-point argument for using a silicone brush instead of a sponge (the main takeaway being that sponges were filthy breeding grounds for bacteria). After a review of the correct order in which to wash the dishes, and a stern reminder of the consequences of carelessness, he stepped back to let Miyu start her task.

Miyu's mother, who viewed housework into a hard science, had taught her how to wash dishes as a young child. Miyu thus considered herself an experienced hand. But scrubbing with a brush was quite different from scrubbing with a sponge, and Mr. Sakamaki was clearly dissatisfied. He looked on, giving terse directions, gradually inching closer and closer, until at last he gave up and let out a theatrical sigh of disapproval.

"Stop."

Miyu looked back at him questioningly. He had removed his glove and jacket, and was in the process of rolling up his crisp white shirtsleeves.

"I cannot believe you are incapable of understanding my verbal instructions, and actually require a physical demonstration. This is terribly bothersome."

If it was so bothersome, he should just leave her to her own devices, Miyu thought. She moved to one side to allow him to stand at the sink, but he took up more space than she'd anticipated, planting himself in the very middle instead of sticking to his own side like a normal, accommodating person would. She was slightly off balance now as she stood just a bit too far from the sink at an awkward angle, stretching to reach the dishes properly without accidentally brushing against him. Couldn't he tuck his elbows in a bit? She didn't understand how someone with such a slim profile could suddenly occupy the same amount of real estate as a sumo wrestler.

"Why are you standing all the way over there?" he scolded. "Do not try to escape your duties. I did not say I would perform this task instead of you. I am merely demonstrating."

She edged a bit closer to him to gain better access to the sink, telling herself that it was no different from standing next to a stranger on the subway. Anytime she rode during rush hour, she was jostled by shoulders and crammed into backpacks. Her face was at armpit level for the sweaty salarymen clinging to the handholds that dangled too far above for her to comfortably reach. Mr. Sakamaki was just a salaryman during rush hour.

Except that he wasn't sweating. She was. The rubber gloves made it worse.

Mr. Sakamaki took the brush right out of her hand, as well as the dish she was scrubbing. "Look," he said. "You are being terribly inefficient, aimlessly scrubbing back and forth. You need to use brisk, circular motions." He handed her another dish. "Now try again."

As he spoke, she felt his breath on the top of her head and was terribly conscious of the fact that he was a head taller than her. At least it made it easier to avoid eye contact. She took the brush and dish and tried swiping the brush around the edge the way he had, but in the process, she lost her grip, and the dish would have gone crashing into the sink had Mr. Sakamaki not clasped his hand over hers.

"You are truly impossible," he said. "Please make an effort not to destroy these antique dishes."

"I'm sorry." She expected him to let go of her hand, but instead he grabbed the other one as well. Not her hand exactly, but her wrist - the one that Subaru had bruised. She let out an involuntary little gasp of pain, and he let go in an instant.

"Is there a problem?" he asked sharply. "You seem quite jumpy."

"No." She wasn't about to let him know about yesterday's incident. "No, you just startled me-"

Before she could finish, he had taken both her hands again and began controlling her like a puppet, guiding the brush over the dish she was holding. Suddenly she was quite relieved to be wearing gloves. A thin layer of rubber between her and Mr. Sakamaki was better than nothing at all. His hands felt strangely cold even in the hot water.

"Must you be so clumsy?" he asked, steering her hand to set the dish on the drainboard.

"I don't usually wear gloves when I wash dishes," she said, trying to ignore the firm pressure of his fingers on her own. She added, "You're not wearing gloves."

"Gloves are a necessary precaution to protect your skin. Even minor afflictions, such as dry skin caused by dish soap, could have a subtle impact on the quality of your blood."

He thankfully let go of her hands once she moved on to another dish. Miyu wondered how many more it would take before he trusted her to wash them without him hovering at her side. He kept reaching past her to adjust the angle of the brush, which meant she kept having to dodge his elbow lest it catch her in the sternum. Then again, the only way to resolve that would be for him to stand behind her and bring his arms around either side, like those commercials for rice cookers where the newlywed wife in the little apron would be washing dishes, and the husband would come up behind her and-

"You feel quite warm," Mr. Sakamaki commented, breaking her chain of thought. "Is the water temperature too high for you?"

"No, it's all right." If he could tell how warm she was, wasn't that a clear indicator that he should give her more space?

"And what about the water in your ensuite bathroom?"

"Pardon?"

"Is the water heater temperature set correctly, or is it too hot for you?"

Miyu froze. She felt herself walking into a trap. "It's fine."

"Is that so?" Just from the sound of his voice, she could tell he was smiling. "The water heater is functional?"

The trap had sprung.

"I asked you a question. Is it functional?"

"Oh. Actually, come to think of it... it's not." She picked up another dish and began scrubbing it more vigorously than necessary.

"Then why did you just describe it as 'fine'? Shouldn't it be repaired? Wouldn't a lack of hot water cause you a fair amount of discomfort if you are maintaining your personal hygiene at the level expected of you?"

He must be aiming to make her admit that she had been awake for his lecture yesterday, and that she knew about her water heater being turned off as punishment. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Has it broken before?" she asked with an innocent air. "Is that why you asked about it just now?"

"Answer my question first. Why did you say that nothing was wrong?"

"I didn't think of it." She began to put the soapy dish on the drainboard before realizing she needed to rinse it off first, and quickly moved it under the running water before Mr. Sakamaki could scold her.

"If it is such a small matter that it does not even come to mind when you are asked directly, perhaps repair is unnecessary. For the entire six-month duration of your contract."

Miyu gritted her teeth. "I'd appreciate it if the water heater were repaired."

"And I would appreciate a bit more honesty on your part. Why bother to lie when you know I am aware of the truth?"

She swallowed. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand." There was nothing left to wash but some serving spoons now. She took her time with each one, wishing there was a mountain of dishes so that he'd leave before she was finished.

"There was a fascinating study conducted at the University of Cambridge that may be of interest to you. Would you like to hear about it?"

Not particularly. "Yes."

"The researchers explored the well-known phenomenon in which young children cover their eyes with their hands and say, 'You can't see me.' Why do you think they do this?"

"Because they can't see the other people?"

"A common but incorrect assumption. When asked, the children said they knew their heads and bodies were still visible. So why would they say 'you can't see me'?"

Miyu waited for him to answer his own question. She was down to the final spoon.

"The researchers hypothesized that children believe there must be eye contact, or a meeting of the gaze, for people to truly see each other. The principle of joint attention – the necessity of a shared experience – applied to the concept of the self." He let out a quiet laugh. "The eyes are the windows of the soul, after all."

Miyu began aimlessly rinsing out the sink with the sprayer, as if she were deeply concerned about any crumbs that might be left behind.

"You are aware that I can see through your flimsy pretenses – or, in the parlance of the study, that your head and body are visible. And yet you deny the plain truth and hide your eyes. You're not even that afraid of me seeing your lies, are you? You're afraid of me seeing you."

He would never see her, Miyu thought. She wouldn't let him. She would never let anyone see the self nestled deep inside her, like the soft body of a snail, coiling down, down, down in its spiral shell. Snails died without their shells. She would too.

"Shut off the tap," Mr. Sakamaki said abruptly. "You are wasting water and not even cleaning the sink properly."

Miyu shut it off and tried to secure the sprayer back in place. She couldn't align it properly, and she struggled for a moment before Mr. Sakamaki reached over and did it for her.

"Turn around. It is terribly rude to turn your back on your superior and occupy yourself with inane tasks when he is speaking to you."

His voice sounded much clearer and closer now that the water was off. Miyu turned to face him - or rather, to face his shirtfront. He had pulled a towel off its hook and was slowly drying his hands, methodically pulling the towel over each of his long fingers one at a time. There was something hypnotic about his movements, and she watched the tendons in his wrists as they tensed and loosened, and the ridges that appeared and disappeared in the muscles of his forearms.

When he had finished his slow torture of the towel, he handed it to her. "Remove your gloves."

She pulled them off with some difficulty, as the gloves clung to her damp fingers, and then she dried the sweat off her hands. He watched. When she had finished, she made a show of going to replace the towel on its hook - a good pretext for getting away - but he shifted in front of her, blocking her path.

"We are in the middle of a discussion. You ought not walk away while I am speaking to you."

She clutched the towel a bit tighter.

"The results of your personality test indicated you have a near-pathological fear of authority figures," he said, as if relaying an interesting bit of trivia. "Do you know why that is the case?"

Miyu opened her mouth to respond, but he held up one finger to silence her. "Please. That was a rhetorical question. The answer is simple. You are ashamed of yourself."

She began twisting the towel into a wad.

"You are afraid those in authority will find out the truth about you. That you will fail to measure up to their standards. That they will realize you are hopelessly inadequate. That no matter how hard you try…" He let out a short laugh. "They will never truly approve of you. And so you fear them."

He knew. All of it. As if he'd stepped inside her mind. How? The personality test hadn't been that detailed. Miyu felt slightly sick with a kind of irrevocable dread, as if Mr. Sakamaki had read her diary or a private letter that she'd intended for someone else.

No, she told herself, maybe he only thought he knew. Maybe he was only guessing. If she acted like it wasn't true, he would never know for certain.

"That is why you are avoiding my eyes now," he said. "It would be one thing if you kept your eyes lowered out of deference. But I do not believe that is the case. I suspect that while you want to give one impression, you are afraid that your eyes will reveal a different story. Do you realize you have not made eye contact even once over the course of this entire conversation?"

Miyu responded with a token millisecond of eye contact. Except it wasn't eye contact, not really - she just took a fleeting look at the bridge of his nose.

"Emotional disturbances manifest in physical imbalances. Chronic fear has a negative impact on the kidneys in particular. In traditional medicine, the kidneys transform your jing, or vital essence, into blood. Weak kidneys will lead to blood deficiency." He paused as if to emphasize the weight of his statement. "Now tell me. What is your job here?"

"To provide blood," Miyu said. She had begun ever-so-slightly edging her way backwards.

"Correct. Which means blood deficiency could result in a failure to uphold your end of the contract."

"It would be unintentional." Another tiny shuffle backwards.

"Regardless of intention, the results would be the same. Which is why your evasive attitude will need to be addressed." He took a step towards her, erasing all the distance she had gradually been putting between them. "Look me in the eye."

Miyu dared to glance at him, but it was like touching a hot stove and she could not sustain it.

Amusement crept into his voice as he said, "That was a rather... prematurely truncated attempt. Three - no, four seconds will suffice."

Miyu stared at his Adam's apple and counted four seconds in her head. It wasn't so long. She could do it. She looked up to meet his waiting eyes. Their mutual gaze clicked into place, and she stared at him, determined to show no weakness.

One. The first count of four seconds pounded in her head like a languorously slow drum.

Two. The world shrank down into the space between them. He blinked, and so did she.

Three. His eyes were fixed on hers, burning, threatening to illuminate her insides.

Four. His pupils were dilated. She saw something quicken and come alive inside him.

She tore her eyes away and settled on something safe - the clean dishes glistening wet on the drainboard.

Mr. Sakamaki was silent for a moment before saying, "It is good to grow accustomed to one's fears, don't you think? Next time, five or six seconds may be possible."

Next time, Miyu thought, she would stare him down until he was the one forced to break eye contact.

"Do not be mistaken," he said. "Fear itself is not the issue. You are right to fear me as your superior, and it pleases me to see that you have a sense of self-preservation. But your deceit and insubordination amplify your fear to an excessive degree. And on that note, I suppose we must come to the heart of the issue."

He reached out and pulled the dishtowel out of her hands, setting it beside him on the counter. "You do not want to admit the truth about the water heater because it would mean admitting that you were awake when I spoke to you yesterday. You are ashamed to acknowledge that you feigned sleep in my presence. And to acknowledge that, in an effort to maintain your facade, you gave me permission to do this."

He stepped towards her and stroked the top of her head like one might do to a pet. She was startled enough to lurch backwards, only to find that she had backed up all the way into the counter. He took a half-step closer.

"You know in an intellectual sense that I am your superior," he said, running his hand lightly over her pinned-up braid. "If someone asked, you would respond correctly. But you have not embodied this knowledge. You are in denial. So I must speak to you physically."

He stopped touching her head but remained close enough to keep her from leaving. Miyu forced herself to stand still, her eyes downcast, the edge of the counter digging into the small of her back. She was seized with a sudden, irrational worry that someone might walk into the kitchen and see them like this, and misunderstand.

"Although custom and courtesy is important, someone as unrefined as you requires something more plain," he said. Perhaps it was because they were mere inches away from each other, but he was speaking softly now. "You need the language of instinct and gesture. Something that speaks to the part of you that lies beneath the surface."

He bent down to the level of her ear and whispered, "I hope you are not so conceited as to think that your hair is somehow special, or that I take anything but a superficial professional interest in it. I am being forced to resort to physical contact as the only form of communication that seems to resonate with you. Had you demonstrated a more cooperative attitude from the start, it would not be necessary."

When he stepped away, Miyu realized she had been holding her breath. He strode to the table and picked up the book he had been reading before the meal. "It occurred to me that you may absorb material better when read than spoken," he said, flipping the book open to a bookmarked page. "Please take a seat and read this."

Miyu smoothed down her hair with shaking hands - he hadn't mussed it up, but she wanted to erase his touch with her own - and came to sit down in the chair he had pulled out. He laid the book in front of her on the table and hovered just behind her, out of sight, in a manner that was uncomfortably reminiscent of that first evening in his office.

"Read the third paragraph."

She looked at the page and did a double-take - he actually wanted her to read that?

"Well?"

Apparently he did. She swallowed and began, trying not to let the words register in her brain. "Long, lustrous hair connotes female readiness for procreation-"

"Not that part," Mr. Sakamaki said quickly, slamming his hand down on the book so hard that Miyu nearly jumped out of her chair. Carefully covering the section she had begun reading, he pointed to a spot lower down on the page. "The third paragraph. Are you incapable of counting to three?"

Miyu started again. "Touching the top of the head or ruffling the hair, a gesture most commonly made by adults towards children, simultaneously demonstrates a hierarchical relationship of dominance, and a bond of trust or responsibility. In accepting this vulnerable position, the weaker party sends a signal to the stronger party that one submits to their authority while trusting them to do no harm. The weaker party may respond to the touch by tilting the head to the side, a submissive gesture that displays the vulnerable carotid artery on the side of the neck, while also indicating that the weaker party is actively listening to any verbal cues from the stronger party. See also: bowing the head, removal of headgear as a sign of respect, religious headcovering practices-"

"That is enough. Is it clear to you now, or was the terminology too difficult for you?"

Miyu's stomach was churning. She remained stubbornly silent before saying in a quiet voice, "I think it's possible to convey authority without physical contact."

Mr. Sakamaki sighed. "Your disregard for authority is evident when you respond in this way. I suppose it will take some time to correct your attitude. In the meantime, if you require an outlet for your childish expressions of rebellion, feel free to file a complaint with Human Resources."

She found it hard to believe that he would suggest such a thing. Was it a setup? "How does that work?" she asked cautiously.

"Complaints and requests may be submitted via the facility intranet."

"Is that the Sakamaki wi-fi network?" she asked, twisting around in her chair. She felt marginally safer being able to see him, even if she kept avoiding his eyes. "I was meaning to ask about the password."

"The password changes on a weekly basis for cybersecurity reasons. I will provide it to you later. It is a waste of my time to memorize gibberish." He reached over her shoulder to pick up the book, closing it with an air of finality. "You have a dedicated email account with a list of relevant contacts, including the official Human Resources email address. Please be aware that all electronic communication will be subject to monitoring. Messages that disclose sensitive information to outside parties - in violation of your contract - will be filtered or blocked."

"Wait, does that mean someone will read my emails?"

"I reserve the right to read them and redact sensitive portions before releasing them from the outbox. This was stipulated in the contract."

Lots of workplace email accounts came with restrictions, Miyu thought. She would just use her webmail, and avoid using the facility account at all.

"What about Internet?" she asked. She tried to push her chair away from the table so that she could stand up and converse at Mr. Sakamaki's level, but he was resting his hands on the back, and it did not budge.

"Internet access will be available between the hours of ten and eleven o' clock in the morning on a daily basis. Prolonged screen time could be harmful to the quality of your blood," he continued. "Content will be heavily filtered, unapproved websites will be blocked, and your browsing activity will be monitored."

"Why would it be monitored?"

"Why not? Unless you plan to search for inappropriate material." Mr. Sakamaki glared down at her. "The viewing or possession of inappropriate material will not be tolerated. If you so much as attempt to download-"

"I wouldn't search for anything weird," Miyu said hastily. "It just seems odd that there's no privacy, and-"

"Are you finished interrupting me? Or shall I wait longer for you to express all your thoughts?"

Miyu swallowed back all the things she wanted to say. "I'm sorry."

"Something needs to be done about that lack of manners," he murmured, as if to himself. Then he cleared his throat.

"If you wish to enjoy privacy in your pursuit of knowledge, I recommend that you make use of the library, which I showed you in the tour yesterday. You may avail yourself of any books you like, provided that you return them in pristine condition. Any damages will be deducted from your compensation package."

"Are there any libraries in town?" Miyu asked. At least a public library would have Internet access.

"None nearby. The 'town' you speak of is little more than a smattering of rural residences. Besides, as you should be aware, you must receive approval before leaving the facility grounds for any reason. Depending on your behavior and adherence - or lack thereof - to the facility rules, I may revoke the privilege for a set period of time."

He could revoke her privilege to leave the grounds? How was that even considered a privilege, and not a basic right? Had that been in the contract? Miyu tried to stave off a swell of panic.

"What about phone reception?" she asked, trying to sound curious rather than desperate. Maybe she could access the Internet on her phone data plan... but she had a sudden, horrifying hunch that the lack of phone reception was not a mere side effect of lead pipes in the walls after all.

"Due to the remote location of the facility, mobile phone reception and data accessibility is not available. Should you require the use of a phone, please notify me and I will grant you access to the landline. Of course, calls are subject to monitoring and limited according to my discretion."

"But what if there's a fire?" she asked, grasping at straws. "There has to be a way to call the fire department."

"I believe I showed you the locations of the fire alarms during your in-depth personal tour of this facility. If you activate the fire alarm, there is no need to call emergency services."

"But what if someone has a heart attack or something, and we need to call an ambulance?"

"Should you be unable to locate me, and therefore unable to use the landline... activating the fire alarm would be an acceptable alternative. However, I can assure you that there will be no need. The only resident of this facility in danger of a heart attack seems to be you, considering your tendency towards hysterics."

Miyu reviewed it all in her head. Censored emails. Monitored Internet usage. No mobile phone reception or free access to a landline. Approval required before leaving the grounds - approval which could apparently be revoked for whatever Mr. Sakamaki defined as bad behavior. Miyu suspected that Mr. Sakamaki would sooner canonize her as a saint than he would acknowledge her behavior as "good." He might refuse to let her leave the grounds simply out of spite.

Surely at least one of these restrictions qualified as a violation of worker rights. Maybe these rules existed for the benefit of the patients due to their "mental instability," but how could she, a perfectly normal employee, be subject to the same harsh restrictions? She really should raise these issues to Human Resources.

Then again...

"If I submit a message to Human Resources," Miyu said, hardly daring to ask at all, "who will handle it? One of the staff members?"

"The patient advocate handles all such correspondence." Mr. Sakamaki smiled down at her. "That would be me."

The last door had slammed shut in Miyu's face.

Mr. Sakamaki went and retrieved his jacket and glove from the kitchen, carefully buttoning his sleeves and returning to his usual immaculate self.

"Put the clean dishes in the correct dumbwaiter," he said. "Our session starts in" - he pulled out a gold pocket watch - "exactly eleven minutes, so do not be late."

He began to step out the doorway into the corridor, but turned around before leaving.

"One more thing," he said. "Regardless of motivation - whether it be your fear of authority or your pernicious rebellious streak - the next time you lie to me, or prevaricate, or feign ignorance of the truth, or engage in any other form of deliberate deception... I will discipline you in a way that you will find most unpleasant. From now on, you will be honest with me or face the consequences. Do you understand?"

His voice was like ice. Miyu nodded, feeling strangely numb. "I understand."

She sat at the table for several minutes after Mr. Sakamaki had gone. She thought about Subaru's bitter laughter and his tight grip on her wrist, and her room full of feathers, and Mr. Sakamaki with his sleeves rolled up, his large hands folded over hers as she washed the dishes. She thought of the little pricks of the acupuncture needles, and Subaru pounding on her door at night, and her blood crawling up the transfusion tube.

Subaru's warnings. "The guys are up at night." "They might not follow the rules." "You're the only girl here."

What the book had said about the Metal Sheep. "Intelligent." "Domineering." "Metal takes pleasure in nurturing Water."

Mr. Sakamaki's comments about how the Yang Water Horse needed limitations and restraint. The low tone of his voice from behind her as he'd unbraided her hair. His promise to be gentle before inserting the acupuncture needles. The way he always pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and looked at her as if he could see straight through her.

What he had said at the end of the job interview. "Thank you for your unquestioning cooperation."

What he had said during the acupuncture session. "I want someone who will obey me and only me."

What he had said just now. "From now on, you will be honest with me or face the consequences."

The walls of the facility were transforming into a maze around Miyu. She was a lab rat, and Mr. Sakamaki had already begun conditioning her.

Author's Note: Miyu is going to meet another brother in the next chapter. I'm curious who you think it will be!