With a shove, Vox sent Lyra stumbling into Rudi's office.
"As discussed, bossman!" he shouted out proudly, with the self-confidence of a YouTube advertisement business coach.
"Good fuckin' work, my champ!"
Rudi sat behind his desk, buried in the furious paper chaos. He didn't even look up when they came in. "I keep my word. Grab Luna tonight and find yourself a nice lil' room."
Vox's mouth twitched upward into a smug grin — yellow, stretched, more like a snarl than a smile.
"Gladly done, he–he–he…" he panted, eyes narrowing to wrinkled slits. "Say, bossman, maybe I could, y'know… celebrate a bit?" A short laugh made his bony chest twitch.
"... rough her up a little, huh? You know what I mean."
He mimed it, his skinny fingers closing around his veiny neck.
"Yeah, fine, that's cool," Rudi answered, calm as ever, then added, "Just don't overdo it, got me? Ain't sellin' too well with a blue neck."
You could see it in Vox's eyes, his brain already spinning through the filthiest fantasies. "Scout's honor!" he croaked, half-raising a thumb before turning to leave.
The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud, leaving behind a choking silence that crawled right into Lyra's bones.
That was the kickoff.
Like on cue, but with deliberate slowness, Rudi lifted his lazy gaze from the desk. The weak neon lights carved deep shadows across his already dark face, barely more than a silhouette.
"Good to see you came," he said. Almost friendly. Way too friendly.
His voice had lost the usual accent. It was pressed, tight — every nice word slammed straight into Lyra's face. Then he rose slowly from his worn-out throne, fixing her with those small, sharp eyes.
"What you pulled yesterday… that was kinda…"
He took a few steps, slow as molasses, hands clasped behind his back.
"...unpleasant."
His stare dug deeper with every step. He didn't go straight for her, moved in wide, precise circles around the room instead. But that made it even more dangerous. Like a predator circling its prey. Waiting to strike.
"I've seen a lot in this club," he went on. "People got their differences sometimes."
Lyra crossed her arms, hiding the tremble.
"But that—"
He spun toward Lyra in an instant.
"What YOU pulled yesterday was reckless. WAY TOO FUCKING RECKLESS FOR LOW SCUM LIKE YOU!" His voice cracked into a shout, spitting the words right into her face.
Her breath hitched, but she didn't move.
"Pff, you wanted to let her work drunk—"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP WHEN I'M TALKIN' TO YOU."
Rudi stormed closer, belly-first, ramming her so she stumbled backward. The cold metal of the door pressed into her spine like a rusty knife.
"YOU'RE THE MOST DISGUSTING WHORE I'VE EVER COME ACROSS."
The words hit like thunder. Even the metal behind her shivered. Her pupils shrank, like she could dodge his presence, but he filled the room completely.
No way out. No backtalk. No escape.
"WHAT THE FUCK GIVES YOU DIRTY WHORE THE RIGHT TO HUMILIATE ME IN MY OWN FUCKIN' PLACE?!"
He towered over her, looking down. They were actually the same height, but right now, under that stare, she felttiny.
Rudi's hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing her throat. His fingers pressed between her bones, then slammed her onto the dirty floor that hadn't seen a mop in years.
Everything stuck. Her palms, her skin, her pride.
"Hng… wha—are you crazy?!" she gasped, but broke into coughing right after. Her lungs clawed for air, even though his hand wasn't on her throat anymore.
He still stood there. Just a dark shape, arms hanging loose.
"Keep that trap shut," he growled down at her.
She reached for her neck, feeling that dull, throbbing pain pulse with every breath.
Rudi inhaled deeply. When he spoke again, the dialect slipped back, but the danger stayed. "If ya ever pull that kinda shit again, there won't be no second wake-up call, got it?"
He stuffed his fat fingers into his too-tight pant pockets and leaned in close, uncomfortably close.
"From now on, you're gettin' half pay."
He shrugged. "But I ain't no monster, so here's the deal."
"You do eight clients a night instead of four, that evens it out." His damp breath hovered right over her skin.
"Ya get me?"
Lyra stumbled back. "Eight?! Wh–what?! N–No, Rudi. No fucking way!" Her voice tried to sound sharp, but cracked.
"I– I won't obey your bullshit. I'm done. I'm out!"
The neon flickered in Rudi's tiny eyes. He looked at her, serious, almost concerned.
"Girly…"
He caught up with her again. "You forgettin' who calls the shots here."
A short metallic click, then he suddenly pulled a knife from his pocket and pressed the cold blade against her throat.
"You really think you got a choice?"
Lyra blinked. The metal. It did something to her.
Loosened the knot in her throat. She knew that feeling well. Too well. By own hand. At first from guilt, from self-hatred. But then, later… it was just to make sure she could still feel anything after work. A routine, just like diving into the sink.
Dangerous. Painful. But familiar.
Lyra lifted her head, her grin turning crooked.
The words just slipped out.
"Then do it. Go on. End my shitty life already."
Rudi flinched. He'd expected hells from this bitch, but not that. He straightened quickly, eyes blazing. But he kept things easy, folded the knife and slid it back into his pocket.
"I'd love to, doll, but that wouldn't change shit. Just work. Not a penny."
Lyra glanced at the owl charm on her handbag and pushed herself up. Her smile widened. The shaking in her legs faded.
Rudi had underestimated her. Now she could flip the game. Pay her debt to Hana. And maybe… find a way out of this nightmare.
Her head stayed low, but eyes gleaming in defiance. Like she had just remembered her own worth.
"So what's that bullshit story about Hana ratting me out?" she shot back.
The question hung in the air – sticky like the grime on the floor.
Then Rudi chuckled. Quiet, hollow. His gut jiggled with it. When it faded, his fingers dug deep into his pocket.
"Oh, slut… think you're real clever, huh?"
His thick lips stretched into that gold-yellow grin as he once more fished something out. His voice turned sharp again.
"I'm still the one askin' the questions here."
He pulled out a scratched-up phone, unlocked it with his fat thumb, and opened the gallery. The blue light from the screen flooded his bloated face.
Then he turned it toward Lyra.
"Lookit here… our lil' masterpiece."
Lyra froze. Pictures glowing on the screen. Of her.
Working. In the bunny outfit. In underwear. Naked.
Touched by disgusting hands.
Hidden-camera angles. Secret shots.
Rudi's thumb swiped with sick delight.
Pic. After pic. After pic.
Lyra's stomach twisted. Her breath broke. The pictures hit her, but not the way Rudi meant them to. A déjà vu of buried memories.
Everything flickered. The weak light in Rudi's office. His disgusting comments about each shot. Everything flickered — but only inside her head.
Blurred fragments of dispelled nightmares mixed into this disgust of a reality. Nightmares trapped in text bubbles.
Back when she used to chat with Phelix online.
The sweet messages.
"It's all good, babygirl. 🖤"
The feeling of being understood.
"I know what that's like. I lost someone too. 😔"
Every memory of those messages hit her like a slap in the face. But that was just the start. It went deeper.
"I'd love to see you. Send me a pic."
NO.
"You're so beautiful 🥹 show me some more of you."
STOP.
"Come on, it's just underwear 🫶"
GET LOST!!
Lyra's hands shook, just like her thoughts flickered. Especially her thumb. Just like back then — when she'd hit "send".
And then, not even five minutes later…
The pictures she sent to Phelix — all over her timeline.
Tweets tagging her. Hundreds of DMs commenting on her body. Everywhere.
Every sealed-away emotion came back. Tightening around her throat like barbed wire.
"N-no…" she whispered, nothing but a dead sound. The fire in her voice was gone.
Lyra stumbled back, as if distance could save her. But there was only the cold door again. She slid down against it until Rudi's shadow swallowed her whole. Her arms folded tight to her chest; her eyes wide, panic and emptiness blending.
Rudi watched, patient. A slow, triumphant smile curling his lips. He savored every flicker, every twitch of her despair.
"Well now… guess it's gettin' clear what's goin' on, huh?"
His voice cut like rusted metal.
"If you don't want those pretty lil' pics goin' public…"
His smirk vanished.
"THEN YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH AND DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!"
The roar shook the whole room. He had to catch his breath.
"We clear?"
Lyra whimpered, weakly tapping her temples with trembling hands. She buried her face between her knees, trapped in the storm of her memories. No possibility for escape.
"Eight clients a night. Same pay." He paused.
"Oh — and about Hana…"
His knowing look dug deeper, like he could press her even further down than she already was.
"We got a client, he wants both of ya. Same time. There, you can show what you're made of."
The sharpness in his eyes softened — but that greasy grin stayed.
Lyra slowly raised her head. Her eyes still shaking, soaked in disgust.
"Got it?" Rudi murmured.
Her mouth opened, but not a damn sound came out. Shame had cut her voice to pieces. There was nothing left to say. She just had to get out.
Barely alive, she pushed herself up, legs dragging against the cold metal, head hanging like a broken puppet. Her bag was already slung over her shoulder when his voice came again.
"Stop."
Her eyes were empty when she turned her head. "Hm?"
"We ain't done yet."
Rudi walked back to his desk and dropped into his chair with a dull thump. The seat creaked under his weight as he leaned back, arms on the rests.
"For beatin' my balls up last night, I figure I earned myself some compensation." A filthy gleam lit up in his eyes. One Lyra had never seen before.
"Don't ya think?"
A slimy laugh wheezed through his nose as he slowly undid his leather belt.
The realization hit her like nausea. Lyra's shaken gaze flicked between what rose from Rudi's fly and the door she'd wanted to reach.
But there was no way out.
No alternatives.
No words.
Only that pitiful feeling of being owned by this pig.
Without saying a thing, she let her purse fall to the sticky floor. The little charm on it clinked, quietly mourning.
Slowly, she dragged herself toward Rudi's throne and sank to her knees. His bloated limb towered over her, triumphant, charged, full of lust.
Lyra eyes distorted.
Just get it over with.
She shut down.
Let it pierce in her mouth.
Feel nothing.
Rudi's low, trembling moan filled the room.
Just do it.
With each thrust, his rough foreskin rubbed painfully against Lyra's chapped lips. For him, it was the greatest feeling ever, which he expressed with a satisfied grunt.
His sweaty hand crept under Lyra's sweater, toward her bra. Thick fingers curiously groped her soft breast, as if he wanted to examine his wares. Then he ruthlessly tore it aside and kneaded her breast, violently unlike any customer ever before.
When he grabbed her nipple with two fingers and rolled it like a knob, Lyra squeezed her eyes shut. So tightly that her eyelids hurt.
She kept going. She had to. And she hated herself for it.
...
And Rudi?
Rudi savored his victory like a fine meal.
⋯───⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯──⋱───⋯
The back door clattered shut behind Lyra.
Sunlight stabbed at her eyes.
Instead of fresh air, a wave of smoke hit her, making her cough instantly. Something about this scene felt familiar. But she couldn't care less.
"Well, look who it is. Our most expensive bunny."
Serena leaned against the wall again, as always.
Lyra said nothing.
No piercing gaze.
No harsh words to reprimand her.
Just more coughing — her eyes fixed on the ground.
"Shut it," she said flatly. Her voice as dead as her steps.
She should've been tougher. Fired back. Not let anyone talk down to her — But nothing came. Just a dry gag climbing up her throat.
Lyra spat onto the ground. The bitter taste of Rudi still clung to her tongue. No matter how many times she tried to spit it out, it wouldn't disappear.
"Trouble with Rudi?" Serena asked, not even bothering to look.
Lyra froze for a second but didn't answer. Just kept trying to scrape the traces of Rudi's residues off her tongue. Off her memory. Didn't work. Her gaze stayed locked on the ground, as if she could hide some of her pity down there.
Finally, she forced out a question. More to deflect than out of any real interest.
"What are you even doing here? This early?"
Serena took a drag on her cigarette, exhaled another slow cloud of smoke. "I'm part of Rudi's team now, don't you know?"
"Rudi's team?"
"Well, things with the clients didn't go great. None of 'em got my sense of humor." She shrugged.
"So now I make sure that you girls do better with the clients."
Lyra stayed quiet.
"You know, make sure none of 'em causes trouble. That they pay up. Blah blah," Serena added like she was poking for a reaction.
She got half of one.
"Congrats," Lyra muttered to the pavement, trying to sound annoyed.
Serena grinned sideways, took another drag.
"Rudi can be real rough sometimes," she said, holding the pack toward Lyra, thumb pushing one cigarette out.
Lyra finally lifted her eyes.
"No thanks."
"Oh right," Serena smiled faintly, "you smoke with Hana now."
Lyra twitched, then narrowed her eyes.
"I don't smoke at all. Fuck you."
Without looking at her, she brushed past, steps a little more alive now.
"I won't tell anyone," Serena called after her, but Lyra didn't answer. Serena sighed, tucked the pack away, and took one last drag, blowing the smoke in Lyra's direction.
"Careful, porcelain bunny. One day you'll crack."
Then her dull giggling came through again, even though no one was there anymore.
"Or whatever it is you're trying to be."
Then she stubbed the cigarette against the soot-stained wall and slipped back inside the club.