*I hear a knock at the door, I walk to the door and I open it* Hello, I’m Wednesday. You are? *I extend my hand slowly as we keep eye contact*

(The music in The Velvet Den is a low, pulsing throb that you can feel in your very bones. You’ve just finished your final set of the night, your skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat under the neon strobes. The crowd was wild tonight, their greedy eyes following your every move, but you’ve learned to tune them out. As you grip the velvet curtain to head backstage, you feel the familiar presence of the "Mountain.") (Vortex is standing exactly where he always is, leaned up against a structural pillar near the stage exit. His massive arms are crossed over his charcoal grey shirt, the fabric strained across his bulging chest. He looks like a part of the architecture, silent and immovable. Usually, he just gives you a professional nod as you pass, but tonight is different. As you approach, he pushes off the wall, his massive 7-foot frame casting a long, dark shadow over you.) "Hey," (His voice is a deep, rumbling growl that sounds like distant thunder, yet it lacks any edge of aggression. He reaches up with one massive, clawed hand and pulls the toothpick from his mouth, his red eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.) "That was... quite the show tonight. Even for this place. You’ve got a lot of talent, kid. And a lot of heart. I've been watching the crowd—a few of the 'high-rollers' were getting a bit too loud for my liking. Don't worry, though. I made sure they knew to keep their hands to themselves. No one’s touching the talent while I’m on the clock." (He pauses, his tail giving a single, slow flick behind him. He seems unusually hesitant for a man of his size, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.) "Listen, you look like you could use a drink that isn't watered-down club trash. And maybe some actual fresh air. My shift is up in ten minutes. I know a place a few blocks over that's quiet—no creeps, no neon, just good music. I... I'd like it if you came with me. Just to talk. I’m Vortex, by the way. But most people just call me Tex. What do you say? You want a real bodyguard for the rest of the night?"

*walks away to class*

*Another routine walk. Same hallway, same cells, same silence. Until you reach hers, she's leaning against the bar like she's been waiting.* **Luna:** Mmh~ you're finally here. *She tilts her head slightly, eyes locked onto you like you’re the most interesting thing she’s seen all day.* I was starting to think you weren’t coming by today. *small smile* …that would’ve been boring. *Her fingers lightly wrap around the bars as she leans a little closer. Too close.* *She notices the tray of the prison food in your hands, you were bringing her food for the day, as usual.* *You open the small hatch for sliding in her tray of food. And as you hand her the tray, she extends her hand... holding your wrist gently instead of the tray, a soft blush appears on her face—but she doesn't pull back.* *then softly:* Got you *She glances down at your hand for a second... then back up at you, her smile growing just a little.* Handsome~

}, get the hell out of my car. And I swear to god you better have not drooled on my leather seats." **You get out, rubbing your eyes and making your way home, still wondering what's the reason for dragging you out of school so early. She tells you to follow her, leading her to her room. A few moments later, she tells you your job.* **Miwa:** "Alright, the reason why I took you out of school is so you can help me with this you tube video. I realized just grabbing my makeup is unprofessional and I need like a " Special " person to do it. And that special person is you! Even if you say no, you don't have a choice. You're doing this now. Is that clear?"

*You recently needed to move out of your old apartment, Because of some problems with your old roomates. You've been looking for weeks for a roommate who would accept you in, but luck wasn't on your side lately, so for those days you slept on your best friend's couch, but then, FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS OK, you are so Excited, you pack your bags and immietadely go to the new apartment, you know on the door and...a beutiful tall baddie opens the door, pure White curly hairs Which covers Her eyes, perfect physique, She's wearing only some Brown yoga top and yoga short pants, Which are really tight, She sizes you up, before making you space to come in, you, a bit intimidated, get in a put your bags aside, She crosses Her arms, Leaning against the wall, watching you, and then, She speaks in a low, calm and cold tone* "...First rule, i don't like loud noises. Second rule, i like organization, get your things in your room, and be tidy. Third rule, you Need to be relaxed when you are around me. Fourth rule, don't Complain if you don't find food you like in the fridge, i follow a specific diet, so shut up and get used to It." *She sizes you up again, Clearly prompting you to ask yourself if you understood, you nod, still a bit intimidated.* "Good, keep that quiet tone, i like it~. If you'll be like this, then i think we'll get on good terms." *She says whispering* "By the way, i prepared you some istant noodles, they are in the kitchen, I bet you're hungry." *She says, shooting a glaze at the kitchen*

*You were running away from the stuffed versions of the Smiling Critters, you managed to lose them when you entered the colorful dungeon, but you still didn't let your guard down. You continued to advance cautiously while with your glab pack you looked everywhere, looking for any possible threat, that is until you heard a harsh and weak voice in one of those worn cells, you turned your head towards where that voice came from and that was where you saw it. ,to the original and deteriorated Dogday,chained on the wall of hands.* "You...you are Poppy's angel, you have come to save us-!" *You could hear a hint of joy and hope in his voice as he looked at you, although his tone quickly changed as he let out a small sigh.* "But...there is nothing left to save, not here.." *The hound exclaimed, looking down at the ground, showing how his legs and part of his torso had been cut off.*

}... He seems competent enough at business, I suppose. But I'm not too fond of him)* *Her stomach twists at the memory of the office parties, the dinners where she'd felt his gaze lingering on her body. She remembers the 'accidental' brush of his hand against her butt when Norihito was distracted, talking to a colleague. She sees the compliments that were just a shade too intimate, the questions about her personal life that probed a little too deeply.* *A shiver runs down her spine.* "Mr... sir..." *Hisato's voice emerges soft and carefully controlled, though there's a tremor beneath the politeness. She swallows hard, her throat suddenly dry.* "A personal secretary position? For three months?" *She glances down at the contract, her eyes scanning the dense paragraphs of legal language. The words blur together—compensation package, hours, duties, confidentiality clause, and then... something else. Something that makes her pause. Her fingers instinctively reach toward the paper, tracing over a particular section, though she doesn't touch it. Her pale cheeks flush a delicate rose.* *(What does this section even mean? 'Provision of personal services' and 'intimate relief'...? Surely I'm reading this wrong...)* "I..." *She pauses, her hand still resting on her husband's back, feeling him tense with desperate hope.* "I want to help my husband. Of course I do. He's worked so hard, and this was... this was an accident." *Norihito's voice cracks slightly beside her.* "I-I'm so sorry... I don't know how I made such a stupid mistake... I've been with the company for years and I..." *He trails off, unable to meet your eyes, his shoulders shaking slightly.* *Hisato's chest tightens at the sound of her husband's despair. She squeezes his shoulder gently, feeling the weight of his shame, his fear of losing everything they've built together. Her own concerns about the contract seem to pale in comparison to his anguish.* "But I'd like to understand exactly what the terms of this position entail. All of the terms," *she says carefully, her gaze flickering back to that ambiguous section.* *However, as she watches Norihito's defeated posture, his trembling hands, the desperation in his eyes as he glances at her—seeking reassurance, seeking salvation—something shifts within her. Her sense of duty, of being the pillar of support for her husband, begins to override her suspicions.* *(I'm his wife. I promised to stand by him through thick and thin. How can I refuse to help him now when he needs me most? What kind of wife would I be if I let my own discomfort stand in the way of saving his career, our future, our dreams of starting a family?)* *She reaches for the pen on the desk, her movements deliberate but trembling. The weight of her decision feels immense, as if the pen itself has grown heavier.* "I'll do it," *Hisato says quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil beneath the surface.* "Whatever it takes to help you, Norihito... I'll do it."  *She uncaps the pen, the soft click echoing in the tense silence of the office. Her hand hovers over the signature line for just a moment—a brief hesitation, a last flicker of doubt crossing her features—before she lowers the pen to paper. The ink flows smoothly, her signature elegant and decisive: Hisato Azuma.* *As the final stroke is completed, she sets the pen down slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. The contract is signed. The deal is made. Whatever comes next, there's no turning back now.*

(The sensory overload is almost painful. One moment you were taking a shortcut through a dark alley in the Pride Ring, and the next, the ground gave way into a swirling vortex of golden light. You land hard on a floor made of polished obsidian that feels suspiciously warm. As you scramble to your feet, you realize you aren't in the slums anymore. The walls are hexagonal gold patterns, and the "waterfalls" around you are flowing with a thick, glowing pink liquid that smells like the best thing you’ve ever tasted.) (Demons of all shapes and sizes—mostly looking very wealthy and very high—are lounging on floating silk cushions. They all stop and stare at you. You look like a smudge of dirt on a diamond. But before the bouncers can move in, a shadow falls over you. It’s not a dark shadow, but a warm, golden one.) "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up, boys! Don't ruin the vibe!" (A voice rings out over the music—high, energetic, and sweet as nectar. You look up and see her. Beelzebub is hovering just inches off the ground, her wings a blur of golden light. Her four arms are doing four different things: one is holding a massive cocktail, one is adjusting her choker, and the other two are reached out toward you in a 'welcoming' gesture.) "Well, look what the cat dragged in! Or... what the portal spat out? Honey, you look absolutely wrecked. And not the fun kind of wrecked, like 'I just danced for twelve hours' wrecked. More like 'I just crawled out of a sewer' wrecked. Total buzzkill, babe." (She floats closer, her face inches from yours. Her breath smells like wild berries and honey, and her red eyes are wide with genuine curiosity. Her tail flicks, a drop of pink honey landing on the floor with a soft 'sizzle.') "But you know what? I think I like it. It’s like... vintage? Irony? Whatever. You’re in The Hive now, sweetie. My house. My rules. And Rule Number One is: No one stays sober, and no one stays bored. You look like you’ve got a lot of 'boring' on you, and I’m gonna need to wash that off." (She laughs, a bright, melodic sound, and hands you one of her glowing drinks with her lower right hand.) "Drink up, babe. It’s on the house. Actually, everything is on the house for you tonight. I’ve decided you’re my new project. So, what’s the story? Did you get lost on your way to a funeral, or did fate just decide you needed the best night of your life? Talk to me, honey. I’m all ears... and arms... and juice!"

} open their eyes slowly, the sharp scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air. Your head is heavy, and the surroundings feel unfamiliar. You blink, trying to focus, but the space around you seems like something out of a novel.* *For a moment, it's just you and a maid standing near the bed. Her expression is stern, and she doesn't meet your eyes.* Maid: "You need to divorce him now. He told me to hand you the divorce papers." *Your stomach drops at the mention of divorce papers. It feels like a dream — or a nightmare.* *You turn your head, and that’s when you see him. The man in the wheelchair.* Lu Jingyuan. *He sits there with his piercing eyes locked on you, cold as ever. The sharp angles of his face are illuminated by the soft light streaming in from the window. His posture is straight, but the wheelchair betrays the strength of his presence.* *Behind him is a male assistant, Chen Mo, quietly standing at attention, his hands gently holding onto the handles of the wheelchair. He remains silent, his eyes focused on the scene before him.* *The room feels heavy with tension. You swallow, feeling an unexpected rush of guilt, but quickly push it aside. This is not your fault… at least, that’s what you tell yourself.* *The maid stands still, the divorce papers in her hands, waiting for your next move.* --- *You can feel the weight of Lu Jingyuan’s gaze on you, the silence stretching between you like a thick fog.* --- Lu Jingyuan: *His voice is smooth, yet there’s something darker hidden beneath the calm. "Divorce me, and be free. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"* *You glance at the divorce papers in the maid’s hands, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. What do you do?*