10:41 p.m. – Backstage
The dressing room smelled of hairspray, lipstick, strawberry body lotion, and just a faint trace of sweat. Above them, an old fan buzzed, pushing more dust than air. On the wall, a neon sign flickered like a warning: Stay Cute, or Die Trying. Somewhere in the background, low synthwave drifted out of an old speaker.
Hana stood in front of the mirror, her bunny outfit digging into her hips. Her hands shook a little as she yanked at the zipper.
"Stupid… thing…" She tugged harder. "Fuck."
"Seriously…" Lyra glanced over, then back away. "That outfit's screaming for help. Can't you see it's about to burst?"
Hana half-turned, pissed.
"Shut it, stick figure. I wasn't—"
"—talkin' to me? Yeah, I know."
Lyra snatched her bunny ears off the table. "Be grateful. Anyone else would lie and tell you you look cute."
"Still cuter than you," Hana shot back.
"Pfft. Even you don't buy that."
Hana blew air through her nose, wrestling with the zipper.
"I fuckin' hate this cheap costume. Rudi needs to quit shoppin' on Temu."
Lyra leaned against the makeup table, dropped the ears back down.
"You know what? Let's settle it."
Hana narrowed her eyes.
"Settle what?"
"That you're a stuck-up bitch? Already settled."
"A bet," Lyra went on, like Hana hadn't said a word.
Hana froze mid-zip.
"…What?"
"First one to get booked."
She said it more to the mirror than to Hana.
"Winner takes the other's tips."
"Huh? But I got the—"
"The guy who talks about his mom during sex and never tips? Yeah. Don't care."
Hana raised a brow.
"Cocky much. Think you've already won?"
"Cause I have."
"With a body shaped like a cigarette? Please. I'll smoke you whole before anyone even sees you flailin' in that cage."
"Pfff." Lyra scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"Only 'cause your fat ass blocks half the room. Or maybe you'll just throw on that pity-face you always do."
Hana snorted. "Forget it. I'm snaggin' the first guy, and you can jerk off fetish grandpa. Your tips'll barely cover a pack of Seven Stars for me."
"Then you could finally buy yourself somethin' decent," Lyra cut in.
"Bullshit. But free cash? Always welcome."
"Yeah, sure. Anyways, deal?"
Lyra held out her hand.
"Deal."
Hana slapped it.
BANG.
The door flew open.
Rudi was there.
"Girls."
He came in like a wrecking ball, gold chain swinging. His shades slid halfway down his nose, shirt hanging half open. His hairline started farther back than he'd ever admit.
"In five minutes, ya're in the cage." He puffed, sweat shining on his forehead. "And if I catch the same shit as last week—" His finger jabbed back and forth between them. "—then it's VIP rooms only for you two. Whole damn week. Got me?"
Hana dropped her eyes without even noticing.
Lyra had a comeback on her tongue but held it. She knew how Rudi got when you tried to be smart.
"Tonight there's a fat guy from Tokyo sittin' in the smoke lounge," Rudi growled, "wants Bunnygirls who know their shit. If he don't get hard, I got a problem. And if I got a problem…"
He suddenly smiled. Wide.
"…then you get it back tenfold."
He half-turned to the door, then stopped once more.
"So. Get it together. Paint yer faces. And dance like the devil's payin' ya."
And just like that, he was gone. As fast as he'd come.
Hana stared at the closed door a moment longer.
"Assh—" She bit her tongue.
"He hears through walls. Trust me."
Lyra brushed dust off her bunny suit and grabbed her lipstick. Without looking, she traced it across her lips in practiced strokes, eyes still locked on the mirror. They caught Hana's for a split second, and Hana knew: tonight she had to give it everything.
"Come on, Princess Muffin Top," Lyra sang sweetly. "Show us what you've got."
Hana clenched her teeth, planted a hand on her hip, and adjusted her bunny ears with mock elegance.
"Fuck you, Lyra. Just… fuck you."
Lyra arched a brow, her gaze dripping with mockery.
"Tired already?"
Hana ignored her, leaned closer to the mirror, and dragged a thin black eyeliner line across her lid, sharpening her stare with an extra dose of defiance. Her heart pounded wild, her palms slick with sweat. But fuck it—she wouldn't go down. Not to Lyra. Not to Rudi. And sure as hell not to this dirty, cheap-ass Bunny Club.
Behind her, Lyra's heels clicked on the floor.
"Don't forget your tail," Lyra said casually, tossing a fluffy bunny tail her way.
Hana snatched it mid-air.
"The tail, huh?" She grinned crookedly, clipping it onto her suit. "Just wait—I'll wag it in your face when I snatch the first customer."
Lyra chuckled softly, almost amused, then strolled toward the door with elegant steps.
"In your dreams, chubby bunny."
Hana slid a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile smooth, almost as smooth as show business itself.
Sure, Princess Anorexia.
She tugged at the fake tail once more.
Be careful before that ego pops.
Lyra waved her off, already halfway out.
Hope the guy's into ribs and long hair, Lyra thought as she crossed the threshold.
The loudspeaker cracked. Another wave of dark, low synths rolled through the room. Hana stood there alone for a moment, the old fan above her still whining tiredly.
She took one deep, last breath.
Then she put on her sweetest, deadliest Bunnygirl smile, fixed her bunny ears, and followed Lyra into the neon-lit nightmare.
The club doors spat Lyra into a sea of light and noise. The stench of alcohol, cheap perfume, and scorched plastic slammed into her like a wall. Neon tubes flickered everywhere, throwing cold, twitching shadows over grinding bodies, glittering outfits, and sweating faces.
The bass swallowed every clear thought.
Lyra hunched her shoulders slightly, as if she could shield herself from the smell.
Welcome back to hell, she muttered in her head, forcing a smile that already felt too big.
Then, another smile, right in front of her.
Not as polished as Lyra's, but real.
Eyes sparkling, like idols straight out of Oshi no Ko.
It wasn't Lyra's smile.
It was Riri's.
"Heee Lyra-chan!" she cooed, voice higher than a triple Nightcore remix. Annoying as hell. But loud enough to cut through the noise. Loud enough to rip Lyra out of the neon nightmare for just a second.
Life flickered back into Lyra's eyes.
She raised her chin, studying Riri with a crooked stare.
Oh God. Her of all people.
Riri's long violet hair, with its neat bangs and braided strands, looked way too innocent for the slut hiding underneath. Her bunny suit was white as cum and as tight as Hana's. Her lilac eyes sparkled from behind a spread-finger peace sign she threw at Lyra.
"Too stiff," Lyra barked over the music.
"Too mechanical."
"Too fake."
She stepped up and gave Riri a little poke with her finger. Riri stumbled, breaking her pose just to catch her balance.
"And what's with that pose? A cheap Hana cosplay?"
Lyra sighed, an actual sigh. Not that anyone could hear it.
By the time Riri steadied herself on her tight stilettos, her sparkle returned.
"Ohhh, you're right, Lyra! Thanks!!" she gushed, fists pressed so hard to her chest her tits nearly spilled out.
"Yeah, whatever. Cut it out. Your act's disgusting," Lyra waved her off.
"But you always say it's sweeet!"
"Yeah. Sweet as marzipan. Sweet enough to make me sick." Lyra's voice was loud, but cold, cold like the iron bars of the Bunny cages.
"Oww…" Riri's eyes dropped, sad this time, without the act.
Lyra sighed, barely audible again, rolling her eyes.
"Sorry."
The corners of Riri's mouth twitched, maybe from the bass, maybe from something else.
"You're so cool," she whispered, soft enough that Lyra had to focus not to lose it in the bass.
"You've got your cage dance coming up, right?"
No reaction. Just Lyra's usual annoyed look.
"One day I wanna be just like you. Someday I'll be up there too!" Riri's voice shot brighter again, more determined.
The words cut under Lyra's skin.
But not the way Riri imagined.
How can she enjoy this job?
How can anyone actually want this?
And want to be like—
"LYRA!!"
A voice roared the thoughts away.
"The hell's that supposed to be?!"
It came from somewhere behind the bar, rough and sharp, unmistakably Rudi.
"Lyra! Left cage, zack zack, move yer ass!"
Lyra flashed Riri a quick, fake smile, then pushed on past the greasy silhouettes of the guests. Hungry stares, sweaty fingers, a few crooked calls in broken English. She ignored them all. And ignored the conversation with Riri along with them.
Don't think.
Just function.
Just be pretty.
Just dance till you forget where you are.
At the edge of the dance floor stood two raised cages, welded from metal bars, lit in pink-violet light that showed everything.
Lyra slipped off her shoes and climbed the narrow steps. The metal was cold against her bare feet. She turned, shut the door behind her. And just then, she saw Hana walk in.
Her hair bounced with every step.
Her gaze sharp, determined.
Not even two minutes late as usual, Lyra muttered inside.
And of course she had to walk like that again, so every fucker in the club saw her tits first.
"Hana! Right cage!" Rudi's bark cut through the crowd, harsher than before.
Lyra hissed air through her teeth.
At least side by side. Then I can watch her as I win.
Hana followed Rudi's command without a second's pause.
Lyra grabbed the bars to steady herself, feeling their rough chill against her palms. Then she lifted her chin and threw Hana a sharp, cutting look.
As the music kicked into a harder beat, Lyra put on her sweetest, dirtiest Bunnygirl smile.
Now it counts.
The bass hammered against her ribs as Lyra slid slowly down the bars, fingers clutching the metal, her back arching. She pushed her hips out, rubbing them in small, deliberate rhythms against the cage as if she were caressing it. A faint, rough smile curled on her lips as she felt the stares from below stick to her like glue.
One guy stood there who looked like he hadn't slept in three days. Yellowed fingernails, greasy forehead, a T-Shirt stretched so tight across his belly every fold showed. He licked his lips slow, one hand sinking deeper into his pocket while his eyes stared shamelessly between Lyra's legs.
"Someday I'll be up there too!"
Riri's absurd words echoed in her head.
But she ignored them.
She had to ignore them.
And the disgusting guy aswell.
Lyra threw her head back, hair fluttering lightly in the fan's draft as she pulled herself back up the cage.
"You're so cool!"
Again. That fucking echo, dragging at her focus. Lyra pressed her breasts against the bars, too hard.
Too stiff.
Too mechanical.
Too fake.
More like trying to crush her thoughts. She felt her nipples harden under the costume from the cold, provocatively visible in the neon glow.
"One day I wanna be just like you!"
Something inside her snapped.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Lyra's hand clamped over her eye, the other still gripping a bar. A split second of weakness, but the bass swallowed the scream whole. The men blinked, confused for a heartbeat, then their greasy looks slid right back into place.
Lyra exhaled, pried her hand free of the cold metal.
Shit. What the hell was that? Why now, of all times?
She forced herself to move again.
I can't lose.
Across the room, Hana turned slowly, like in slow motion.
Her black-red midlength hair slid across her face as she leaned forward. Her breasts strained against the tight suit, almost spilling out. She knew exactly how to present herself.
And the men ate it up.
One of them, who looked like he'd spent more hours in porn theaters than in a gym, stared at her, drooling as he sipped whiskey. His eyes crawled from Hana's belly all the way up to her cleavage, while his hand rubbed openly over his crotch.
Hana swallowed dry. Her smile stayed flawless.
She tilted her head, let her fingertips drift casually over her own chest, a small playful shrug of her shoulders that pushed her cleavage up even more.
She hated herself for it.
But she knew she had to win.
Lyra had just shaken off Riri's echo—
and then she saw Hana. Saw her play with the pigs.
Her blood boiled.
She gripped the bars tighter, grinding against them in slow, circling motions. Pressed her ass against the metal, lifted her hips just enough for a deep moan to ripple through the front rows.
But it was already too late.
An older guy, bald head, gold teeth, greasy grin stretched ear to ear shoved his way forward. His fat finger pointing straight at Hana. The bass drowned out his words, but Lyra didn't need to hear them. She knew what it meant.
Defeat.
It only took that one gesture to strip away the single thing that might've given her any satisfaction tonight. The triumph over Hana. A hollow victory, in a game you could only ever lose.
One of the waitresses nodded and headed off.
Lyra's body kept moving. Her hips still rolled, her ass pressed against the bars, but her motions had lost all fire. They looked more like a pendulum winding down.
Finally she leaned into the bars, sinking slightly against them, eyes dropping to the floor. Her silver hair fell forward, hiding her face, as if it could shield her from the biting stares below. Pathetic, maybe. But she made it look like the elegant end of her act.
Her game was lost.
And there was no one to blame but herself.
But just when she thought it couldn't sink lower, a shrill whistle cut through the crowd.
Another guy, young, but just as slimy, called over a waitress and pointed straight at Lyra. He was already licking his fingers, grin sharp as a blade, like he was imagining what he'd do to her. Maybe he liked her after all.
Or maybe he liked how she'd fallen.
For a moment time froze, as the two girls' eyes locked.
Hana's lips twitched into a strained but sly smile.
Stupid bitch, Lyra hissed inside. But on her face, the smile stayed. With a graceful flick, she swept the curtain of hair aside, stood tall, and turned away from Hana as if she'd never lost. She wouldn't give her that moment.
Two waitresses arrived almost at the same time. Both wore the same bunny outfits as Hana and Lyra.
Hana's waitress had to rattle the cage door a few times before it gave way. Her black ponytail swung with each tug.
"God, this cage drives me nuts!" she cursed.
"Everything here's junk. A few months ago you could open them from the inside," Hana agreed as she stepped out. "Thanks, Yuyu."
"Well, Rudi won't spend a dime," Yuzuki answered with a crooked smile.
"The guy's waiting for you in Room Three," she added, gesturing for Hana to follow.
Hana cast a quick glance at Lyra.
Meanwhile, the more muscular waitress at Lyra's cage yanked the door open with one hard pull, brushing a pink strand of her short hair out of her face.
"Solid show as always, princess," Natascha quipped with a wink, making Lyra flinch.
"What else did you expect from me, Natascha?" Lyra shot back, tone full of confidence that sounded nothing like defeat.
"Cocky like an idol. Typical."
With a loud clang, Natascha slammed the cage door shut again, laughing as she did.
"Come on, your client's waiting in VIP Room Two," she ordered, striding ahead.
Lyra glanced at Hana, just for a heartbeat. Their eyes met, then both looked away. A wordless, heavy tension clung between them. But compared to what was coming, it almost felt like something familiar. Almost like safety.
Because now they had to face the pigs.
Lyra forced a smile onto her face, a mask that didn't quite fit. Hana mirrored it, perfectly performed, as she slipped gracefully away from the cage.
Shitty game, Lyra thought.
And we keep playing it, Hana finished in silence.
Hana followed Yuzuki down the narrow side corridor to the VIP rooms. The walls were stained, the lights flickered, and the air stank of spilled booze. Her heels clicked against the sticky floor.
"Ugh, I hate these halls," Yuzuki sighed, brushing a strand of black hair out of her face. "Always smells like a damn toilet."
"Tell me about it," Hana muttered. "Thanks for walking me over, though."
"Always, sweetie." Yuzuki gave her a crooked grin. "For you, anytime."
She stopped at the door marked 3, resting a hand briefly on Hana's shoulder.
"The bald guy with the gold teeth… ugh."
"At least he pays well," Hana murmured, dry.
"True. The real dirtbags can't afford you, anyway." Yuzuki squeezed her shoulder gently.
She pushed the door open without knocking.
"Take care, Hana-chan," she whispered, then headed back down the hall.
"Thanks, Yuyu," Hana whispered back.
Hana took a deep breath, stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her.
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Lyra followed Natascha down the narrow corridor to the VIP rooms. Natascha was rambling about her last shift as a bouncer, but Lyra wasn't even listening.
She knew this hallway.
She knew the stench.
And she knew exactly which room was waiting for her.
Leaning against a stained wall, Riri pushed off the moment she saw her.
"You were sooo cool again!" she gushed. "The way you played with the bars was… HOOOT!"
Then her sparkle dimmed a little.
"…but what was that at the end?"
She actually looked worried.
Lyra stopped beside her, and so did Natascha. Her thoughts tangled again, just like earlier.
Riri faked plenty of things, but this wasn't one of them.
No sarcasm, like Hana. None of the mindgames, Serena always tried to throw her off with. Just a naive slut who worshipped her like a goddess. The goddess of sluts. Maybe that's why Lyra hated her so much.
She forced the corners of her mouth up.
Confident and arrogant, just like always.
"If I wasted time thinking about that, I wouldn't be where I am today," she lied coldly, then walked on.
She ignored the fire she'd lit in Riri's eyes. Not because she was truly that arrogant. But because everything was about to go to hell anyway.
Natascha slapped her on the back, nearly throwing off her practiced walk, then shoved open the door marked 2.
"Hell of a role model for the kid," she laughed.
"That's my job as number one."
One corner of Lyra's mouth twitched, then she stepped inside.
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Inside, the air reeked of old sweat and something sweeter, sharper, probably cum.
The room was small and bare.
A sagging couch in the corner, a stained coffee table, and red silk wallpaper peeling at the edges.
And there he was.
Hana's customer.
A bald man with a bloated face, greasy gold chains hanging around his neck, and a belly spilling out from under a shirt that was two sizes too small. His eyes slid up and down her body, slow and disgusting.
"C'mere, bunny," he croaked, his voice oily and slimy as his hands.
He patted the spot beside him on the couch.
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Dirty mattresses were scattered across the floor, the ceiling fan clacking as it turned.
And on one of them sat Lyra's client.
His face was red from heat or booze—or both. In his tiny eyes flickered a greasy glint.
The moment Lyra entered, he licked his lips slowly and spread his legs wide. His stiff cock jutted out from his unzipped jeans, the fabric stained all over. The reddened skin on his cock was covered in small pimples, making the sight even more repulsive.
"Come here, princess," he rasped, crooking a finger so fat Lyra swore it barely had a joint.
So I can puke on your lap?
She choked the thought down, let out a grin that was too sweet, too wicked, and slowly rolled her hips as she walked toward him.
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Hana swallowed dry.
She forced a coy smile that hurt even for her standards and swayed her hips as she walked toward him. Every step felt like sinking deeper into a swamp of shame.
The moment she sat, his hands were on her. Fingers grabbing greedily at her thighs, not even stopping when she flinched.
"Show me the tits, c'mon," he muttered, hand sliding higher.
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"Show me that ass," the guy demanded as soon as Lyra was close enough. His voice wheezed, spit already drooling down his chin.
Lyra turned slowly, placed her hands on her knees, and bent just enough to make the bunny suit stretch tight across her ass. She could feel his gaze burning into her skin.
A panting moan behind her.
Then the sound of a zipper, fabric rustling.
Without hurrying, she straightened, slid the bunny suit off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.
Now she stood in front of him, wearing nothing but black underwear.
Lyra shut her eyes.
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Hana breathed shallow.
Slowly, almost in a trance, she reached for the too-tight zipper of her bunny suit, tugged it down partway, and let the fabric slip lower. The cool air prickled against her skin as she forced her breasts free and pressed them together, pretending to enjoy it.
The man gasped, his eyes glassy with lust.
His hands came up. He squeezed her breasts like he was testing if they were real, kneading them without the slightest tenderness, while his tongue dragged wetly across his lips.
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His hand slapped Lyra's ass hard.
Again.
Then he grabbed her, squeezing so roughly she had to fight not to flinch.
"Nice and firm…" he panted, breath hot against her back. Still she stood frozen.
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Hana kept smiling—mechanical, empty.
His breath reeked of beer. At least that was the one bearable thing. He leaned in, sucking one nipple into his mouth, teeth scraping unskillfully across her sensitive skin.
Hana closed her eyes.
He grunted in satisfaction, his hand sliding between her thighs, rough and thoughtless, as if he didn't even notice how stiff she sat beside him.
Just until he's done.
Make it quick.
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Suddenly he buried his face in Lyra's ass, drooling, grinding against her, groaning heavy. His slobbering rubbed across every inch, the grunts vibrating through her.
He pushed further. And deeper.
But Lyra let it happen, while in her head the same two thoughts spun in a broken loop.
Only my body.
Not me.
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3:41 a.m. – Three customers later
The backstage door creaked softly as Lyra pushed it open. She staggered more than she walked. The bunny suit was only half pulled up, her makeup smeared, her eyes empty.
In the flickering light the room looked even more desolate than before, like it was reserved for broken Bunnygirls. The place was empty, except for Hana, sitting on the bench at the side. Her legs were pulled up, her head lowered. She didn't even look like someone who cared about winning the bet.
She was trying to twist open a small bottle of umeshu with just one finger, as if the fate of the world, or at least her night, depended on it.
Lyra dropped into the chair at the makeup table, her body heavier than it should've been. Her movements sluggish, stripped of the grace she'd had before.
For a moment, no one said a word.
Only the fan coughed above them while Hana kept stubbornly fighting the bottle. Lyra stared at her own reflection, then looked away, unable to bear it.
Eventually Hana lifted her head, not much, but enough for Lyra to catch her gaze in the mirror. Neither of them had the energy for a snide remark.
"How was yours tonight?" Hana finally asked, her voice flat, carried only by bitter exhaustion.
Lyra laughed.
Not the kind of laugh anyone wanted to hear.
"Same as always," she rasped.
"A fucking dream."
Hana started to rise, then stopped halfway and glanced toward her again.
"The tear on your cheek too?"
Lyra blinked slowly, then a crooked, broken grin tugged at her lips. She wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand—too rough, as if to crush the tear itself.
"Stop talking nonsense," she muttered, more sluggish than spiteful, shuffling a few steps away and disappearing around the corner where she always changed.
"Ever sweated before, Hana?... Thought so," her voice came half-sharp from behind the wall.
Lyra peeled off the costume, and somehow it felt like shedding more than just fabric.
Hana exhaled softly through her nose, eyes dropping back to the bottle in her hand. Under her breath, barely audible, she murmured to herself.
"Nevermind then, I guess."
At last she twisted the cap free and took a drink, as if it was the last thing she still had control over. After draining a quarter of the bottle, her tongue loosened enough to speak.
"Kinda funny how big-shot Lyra hides while changing… heheheh."
Lyra ignored it, putting on her regular clothes. She stuffed the sweat-soaked suit into a plastic bag, then into her sports bag.
With the strap over her shoulder, she came back to find Hana still giggling over her own line like a broken robot—until the laughter sputtered out.
"Hella cute," Hana grinned, half genuine, half wrecked.
"Mhm. Stay cute or die trying," Lyra muttered sarcastically, heading for the door. She didn't look at Hana. Didn't hear the words she mumbled next. In her head, there was only static.
At the threshold she paused once.
"Congrats on the win. Enjoy it."
Then she was gone.
Hana sat alone, bottle half-empty in her hand. The echo of Lyra's footsteps faded down the hall, and suddenly the dressing room felt huge and hollow. A few meaningless minutes passed.
She took another swig and leaned back against the wall. Her head felt heavy, but the alcohol made it lighter, just a little.
"So, how was your night, cutie?"
Hana looked up, and smiled for the first time in hours. A real one. Nozomi stood in the doorway, wide black pants, a fitted cream-colored top. She'd swapped her high heels for white sneakers, but somehow she still looked elegant.
"Nozomi!" Hana straightened. "Thought you'd already left."
"And leave you here alone? Never." Nozomi came over and sat beside her on the bench. "Besides, I still owe you some praise. That guy in the anime shirt was absolutely smitten with you."
Hana chuckled. "He was the only sweet one tonight. Told me I reminded him of his waifu."
"Oh God." Nozomi burst out laughing. "Which one?"
"Mai Sakurajima. From Bunny Girl Senpai." Hana grinned crookedly, pointing at her chest. "'Cause of the dark hair and the big… well, you know. Real original."
"Of course." They both laughed, and Nozomi nudged Hana playfully. "You really attract all the otakus."
"My curse and my blessing." Hana handed her the bottle. "Want some?"
"Sure." Nozomi took a sip, then grimaced. "Ugh, how do you drink that stuff straight?"
"Practice." Hana smirked. "Lots of practice."
Nozomi gave the bottle back and leaned against her. Her gaze shifted from the bottle to Hana's face. "How are you really? You look tired."
"I am." Hana sighed. "Lyra's been on my nerves all night. All this competition bullshit…"
"She doesn't mean it badly, you know. She's just… complicated."
"Complicated's a nice way to put it." Hana laughed dryly. "But whatever. Tomorrow's a new day. New clients, new money."
"That's the spirit." Nozomi stood and pressed a quick kiss to Hana's forehead. "Go home soon, okay? You need sleep."
"Yes, mom." Hana grinned. "I will."
Nozomi rolled her eyes but smiled. She was already used to Hana calling her that whenever she worried.
"Good. I've got to run—Rudi'll be here any minute, and he'll want the numbers." At the door, she turned once more. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks, Nozomi."
"Always, sweetheart."
Nozomi disappeared toward the offices, and Hana packed her things. The bottle was nearly empty anyway.
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4:07 a.m.
While Lyra and Hana were already on their way home, Rudi stomped down the narrow hall toward the offices.
The bass from the main floor still vibrated through the walls, but back here it was quieter. Businesslike.
The light in Nozomi's office was still on. Nozomi Takamura—once his most valuable Prestige Diamond, making more money than three other Bunnygirls combined. At thirty-five, she was too old for cages and stages, even if she still looked like a goddess. Now she was his right hand, running the books, knowing every number, every trick, every dirty secret of his girls. In some ways, the old slut was even more valuable than she'd ever been on stage.
He didn't knock. Rudi never knocked.
"Nozomi."
She sat behind her small desk, the day's accounts neatly spread before her. The bluish light of the computer made her light-blue hair shimmer as her fingers danced elegantly across the keyboard.
"Rudi-kun," she purred, looking at him warmly. "Calling it a night already, big boss?"
He dropped into the chair opposite her. It creaked under his weight.
"How's it lookin'?"
Nozomi smiled, that sweet, knowing smile she had perfected. "Tonight was a good one." She tapped the screen. "Especially for our two Prestige Diamonds."
"The two of 'em were scrapin' again," Rudi grunted, rubbing his eyes. "Bet shit or somethin'."
"Mmmh, I know." Nozomi leaned back, eyes flicking over the numbers. "But look at this. Both had four clients tonight. Hana: 200,000 yen. Lyra: the same."
Rudi's eyes glinted like his gold chains. "Fuck, those girls're goldmines."
"Prestige Diamond, after all." Nozomi clicked through the spreadsheets, her nails clacking softly on the mouse. "Our regular Diamonds barely hit 50,000 a night. Take Himari—she's good, no doubt, but…"
"But she ain't S-tier material," Rudi finished with a snort.
"Exactly." Nozomi nodded, tapping thoughtfully on the screen. "Asaki, though…" A sly sparkle in her eyes. "She's making progress. 65.000 yesterday. Already more than the other Diamonds."
Rudi leaned forward, intrigued. "For real?"
"See for yourself." She turned the monitor toward him. "The regulars like Asaki. But she's still got room to grow."
Her tone shifted. "But you should give Hana and Lyra a break. They're running on fumes. Especially Hana… she's drinking too much."
"Hah!" Rudi barked, his belly shaking. "Let her drink. Long as she brings in cash."
Nozomi swallowed the remark. Her smile stiffened a notch, but she said nothing.
"Yuyu…" Rudi scratched at the stubble on his chin. "That little imouto act's workin', right?"
"Solid 35.000 a shift. Not bad for Gold tier, but not insane either." Nozomi clicked on. "The Silvers like Mio are pulling twenty to twenty-five. But Mio's got potential. Her roleplay skills are improving. Give her a few more clients and we could bump her to Gold."
Rudi's eyes glittered above a crooked grin.
"Then we can sell her as Gold early, and let her find out later. Hahaha."
Before Nozomi could scold him, he was already on to the next question.
"And the debut sluts?"
Nozomi sighed lightly. "Riri's doing well for a rookie. 15.000 yesterday, 18.000 today." Then she smiled. "I gave her a few tips. That sweet cosplay thing hooks the otakus."
"You're a pro," Rudi noted.
Nozomi giggled, cheeks flushing faintly. Then Rudi spoke again.
"Oh, and…"
"Hm?"
"Ya heard anythin' from Tsusu?" he asked, almost concerned. "Takeshi's been askin' again."
Nozomi shook her head. "That kind of sickness doesn't vanish in a week. But she messaged me, said she'll be back soon."
"Right." Rudi scratched his head. "Gotta come up with somethin' for the client. Can't lose him."
Nozomi nodded, clicking into another window. "Asaki definitely has potential, but…" Her voice sharpened. "It's too early to promote her. Let her prove it wasn't just luck."
"True." Rudi rubbed his forehead.
"But she's developing fast. I didn't make her my personal trainee for nothing…" Nozomi's smile turned sharper. "In a few months, she could be Prestige Diamond material."
"And then?" Rudi asked.
"Then…" Her hand slid across the table, briefly covering his. "Then Hana and Lyra could finally get a break. Once Asaki's promoted, you'll have three strong girls instead of two." Her tone sweetened again. "And three Prestige Diamonds would pull in 600.000 yen a night. That's more than all the other tiers combined."
Rudi stared at the numbers. Six hundred thousand. A night.
"Fuck me…" he muttered.
"Gladly," Nozomi breathed, winking.
He laughed rough. "You sexy bitch."
"Your sexy bitch," she corrected, leaning back. "And as your old sexy bitch, I'm telling you: wait and see how Asaki grows. But Hana and Lyra… they need a day off."
Rudi stood, stretching, joints popping. "They can fuck themselves. Business is business."
"Mhm." Nozomi saved the files. "Keep your eye on Asaki. And think about our top girls."
"Yeah, yeah." He pointed at her. "You handle it. You're better at talkin' nice than me."
Nozomi smiled—the sweet, innocent smile of a woman who knew exactly how to wrap men around her finger.
"Of course, Rudi-kun. Leave it to me."
She stood up and kissed his forehead lightly. "Head on home, handsome."
As he reached the door, she called after him: "Oh, Rudi?"
He turned. "The new girl, Vanilla—she keeps asking about Choca. Maybe we should pair them more often. As a team, they'd earn more."
Rudi grunted his approval. "Later, babe." Then he disappeared down the hall.
Nozomi was left alone. The glow of the computer cast shadows across her face. She typed in a few more numbers, then leaned back, smiling into the dark.
Hana and Lyra would break sooner or later if Rudi kept this up. But that wasn't her problem. Her problem was keeping the business alive. Always.
The screen flickered once more, then the office went dark.