Main character: Me/Mimi (F) & Dawson(M) // Time: Night // Place: City F
When I helped the guest dry his body, the system suddenly broadcasted, “Your session has ended. Thank you for choosing our service. We look forward to seeing you again!”
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Upbeat music flowed from the speakers. I whispered softly to the guest, “Sir, I really enjoyed our time together. Please come find me again next time.”
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He dressed, pulled a tip from his wallet, and handed it to me with a smile.
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“I really like you, Mimi. See you next time.” Then he left the room.
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“I’ll be waiting,” I murmured, standing by the door until it closed. Then I gathered the used towels and toys, tossing them into a basket.
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Five minutes later, someone entered carrying a bathrobe.
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“Mimi, your shift is over. You can go back to your room and rest.”
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I slipped on the bathrobe and handed him the tip I had just received.
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“Dawson, the guest gave me this.”
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“Good girl. Come with me.”
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Dawson gave me a brief hug, and I followed him into the office. In the office was a door that led upstairs. He handed me a key and unlocked my room.
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“Stay inside. I’ll order dinner for you.”
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“…Alright.”
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I replied softly, climbing the stairs. Unlocking my door, I flicked on the light.
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The room was simple—a wardrobe, a desk, a bed, and a computer. That was everything I owned, and all that I needed.
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Through the window, stars dotted the night sky. The last trace of twilight still lingered on the edges of distant buildings, like the fading glow of a dream not yet ended.
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I slipped off the bathrobe and changed into my most comfortable sleepwear—a thin camisole. I never liked bras and underwears; they always felt unnecessary.
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The only thing I kept on was the slender necklace around my neck, its cord so light I could barely feel it. A tiny lock dangled from it.
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Dawson once told me, no matter when, even while meeting clients, I must never take it off. By now, it felt like part of my body, so natural that I hardly noticed it anymore.
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I lay down on the bed, waiting for dinner.
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But fatigue overcame me. My eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted into sleep…
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When I woke, the lights were out. Night had deepened again.
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Dawson had said he’d prepare dinner for me… but the table was empty.
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My stomach ached with hunger, and I muttered under my breath,
“So hungry…”
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I slipped on my slippers, pushed open the door, and went downstairs.
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The office was silent, empty. Dawson wasn’t there. Perhaps he was busy elsewhere.
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I glanced at the deserted hallway, hesitated, then decided to leave the office, following the quiet corridor toward the exit.
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Outside, the night air brushed my skin, carrying a faintly salty, muddled scent.
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I stepped through the doorway, uncertain in my stride, but I did not stop.
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It wasn’t the first time I had walked this street—but it was the first time I did so alone.
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Before, Dawson would sometimes take me out. He said a girl couldn’t be locked up inside all the time—her skin tone and complexion needed maintenance for the “guest.”
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He would buy me food, let me see the lights and crowds on the street. Those brief moments were some of the few outdoor memories I had.
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I remembered him once leading me along this very road, turning a corner—left, then right—until we reached a lively main street. It was bursting with noise and brilliance, the air thick with the aromas of grilled meat, sugar, fried food, and spices. A world so noisy, it felt like a dream.
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Just as I was about to turn toward that familiar, bustling street, a voice called out behind me—reeking of alcohol, laced with leering amusement,
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“Hey, little girl. What are you doing out here all alone?”
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I froze and turned. Two men stood there.
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One staggered, drunk, cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused, clutching a bottle. The other stood steady, holding a long wooden stick, the kind you’d find on a construction site. Their clothes were wrinkled, their expressions carrying a smile I knew all too well—the smile of wolves spotting prey.
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“I… I came out to find something to eat,” I said softly.
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The drunk laughed, tilting his head at me.
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“Where are you from? All alone? Want us to buy you something?”
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My eyes lit up with hope, “Do you have something good to eat?”
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The one with the stick stepped closer, his heavy footfall landing just behind me.
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“Yeah. Come with us.”
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He started walking the other way, but I pointed toward the main street ahead.
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“There’s food over there. Just a right turn ahead.”
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They both laughed, grabbing me by the arms, one on each side.
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“We’ve got something better.”
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They dragged me into the dark alley on the right. Without warning, they shoved me down. I crashed hard onto the cold ground.
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Before I could react, my arms were twisted behind my back, pinned in place. One of them yanked off his belt and bound my wrists tight. His movements were clumsy, but rough enough to make me cry out.
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“Ah! That hurts!”
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At once, the other man straddled my back, pressing the heavy wooden stick against my throat, choking off my breath.
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“Quiet! Shut up!” he growled, reeking of alcohol. With a cruel grip, he forced up my chin and jammed the mouth of the bottle between my lips, making me gulp down the burning liquor.
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The sharp heat seared my throat. I had never drunk alcohol before; I choked violently, tears spilling from my eyes.
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Their hands roamed, shameless, over my body. My skin crawled. Revulsion filled me. I struggled, desperate to resist.
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Then—footsteps. Rapid. Coming closer.
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A split second later, faint but piercing whoosh sounds cut through the air.
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The drunk’s bottle slipped and shattered beside me with a sharp crash. The man on my back suddenly collapsed, his full weight crushing down on me.
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The scent of blood hit me, thick and metallic.
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“Mimi!”
To be continued...
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