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.