The car came to a halt close to the club. Even at this late hour, many affluent patrons were lined up, while others were exiting the venue. After bidding farewell to the elderly man, I stepped out of his vehicle. A large flyer on the billboard caught my eye, proclaiming 'bartender for hire. Today's interview.' I couldn't help but smirk as I approached the bodyguards to inquire about the interview's location.
"Inside. Follow me," one of the guards replied. He was quite tall and muscular, probably around 6'5. Despite his size, he couldn't compare to my appearance; he had an unattractive face and wore sunglasses that did little to conceal his uneven jawline. He looked rather primitive.
As I mentally critiqued him, I trailed behind as he led me inside, where a vibrant scene unfolded—people danced, kissed, and conversed amidst the loud music. I spotted Will's friends seated at a table in the corner. Even after I had killed Will, they continued to frequent this place. Have they moved on so easily, or are they merely leveraging his memory? But honestly, that was none of my concern.
As we walked through the club, I remained vigilant; I had experienced enough chaos to sense when something was amiss, and soon enough, that instinct proved accurate.
Just as I was about to question the guard, he stopped and turned to face me. Though his sunglasses obscured his eyes, I could sense a hint of discomfort in him—might he find me suspicious?
"You're new here, right? Let me tell you, this club isn't great. Just last Monday, someone was murdered in one of the VIP rooms."
Oh, that was me. I killed Will.
"Are you serious? That's insane..." I exclaimed, feigning disbelief. The guard nodded, clearly pleased that I found his story intriguing. The real intrigue, however, was my own connection to this place—an art form intertwined with the club's dark history, known only to me. "And those guys over there?" he pointed to Will's friends, their expressions serious as they conversed. "What about them?" I inquired.
"Since the murder, they've been coming here, looking for the person responsible for their friend's death." A faint smirk tugged at my lips at his words. It would be entertaining to approach them and reveal that I was the one who had killed Will, igniting chaos in the club. Yet, I wasn't foolish enough to create turmoil when I had a purpose.
"So, who was the victim?" I asked, pretending to be innocent.
"Wills Richardz. He ran a successful restaurant but went bankrupt due to some gang's influence. I heard he got involved with a group and would receive money for following their orders, but I don't know the specifics." I acknowledged what the guard shared.
They were aware that Will had connections, but they were oblivious to the identity of those involved—specifically, the Mississippi twins, known as 'the Krunz' in the organization I had joined. Their moniker might be unpleasant, but to me, they represented art in its most corrupted form. The more depraved a person, the more fascinating they became.
"That's a terrible situation. I hope law enforcement uncovers some crucial leads soon," I said, allowing a sigh of sympathy to escape. The guard nodded and resumed walking.
As we navigated through the crowd, we turned down a quieter hallway that led to a red door at the end. I faced him.
"Is this where my interview will take place?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
With that, he left. It was odd how he had been chatty earlier but had now grown distant. Whatever.
I knocked on the door twice and heard a voice telling me to come in. A wave of relief washed over me at the realization that I wasn't alone. I wanted to stay on track with my plan. When I opened the door, I found myself in a stark white room, devoid of any decor—just an empty space. Sitting in front of me was a figure, their back turned, obscuring their face. Then, the person spoke.
"Are you here for the interview?"
It was a woman's voice. I nodded in response.
"Yes, I'm here for the interview," I replied.
She rose to her feet, revealing her tall stature—about 5'8—and long, wavy blonde hair. As she slowly turned to face me, my eyes widened slightly at her striking appearance. She was attractive, but what caught my attention most was the scar on her right eye. She stared directly at me with crossed arms. Her figure was more voluptuous than my Little Flower's, but to me, my Little Flower was the most appealing.
"My name's Ria," she said with a smile, stepping closer. I felt her fingertips brush against my chest. Seems like she's toying with me. I maintained a neutral expression. "I'm Leo," I introduced myself, using another fake name since I'd gone with 'Ran' earlier in my mission to take down Will.
"What an intriguing name," she whispered in a sultry voice before stepping back, her hand trailing away from my chest. "Now, let's begin the interview." Suddenly, she raised her hand, revealing a knife. What the hell? I swiftly dodged as she brought it down toward me. "What's going on?" I questioned, amusement on my face, but she remained silent, lunging at me and attempting to kick my groin. I quickly blocked her kick with my hand and tried to twist her ankle, but she performed a flip, breaking free and leaving me momentarily stunned.
Kicking me in the groin was not going to happen again. I'd already taken that hit twice for my Little Flower.
After her acrobatic display, Ria stood confidently and licked her lower lip. What a turn-off.
"You're quite skilled at this. Many who come here for the interview don't make it out alive," she stated, then darted toward me, spinning the knife on her fingertips before aiming it at me. She underestimated my ability to anticipate her moves. Foolish decision.
As she lunged to stab me in the face, she felt the momentum shift, grabbing another knife from her pocket. How many knives does she have? I had anticipated this as well. Just as she aimed the second knife at my stomach, I swatted her arm aside, sending the knife flying into the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly attempted another strike with the feigned knife. I was already in control of the situation.
I landed a solid punch to her jaw, causing her to stagger back and crash into the desk.
"Ugh..." she groaned, blood streaming from her nose. I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
I approached her slowly, retrieved the butterfly knife from my pocket, and pointed it at her.
"Ready to give up?" I inquired, a smirk on my face. "Give up?" she shot back, spitting blood from her mouth.
She stood again. I stepped back, prepared to continue the fight, but to my surprise, she returned to her seat and picked up a card. It was an identification card for employees at this establishment, a red one.
"Here." She tossed it to me, and I caught it easily before stashing it in my pocket.
"So, did I pass?"
"Yes, you passed. That was a great fight," Ria acknowledged with a smirk.
"Why do you act like this with everyone who comes for an interview?" I asked, and she laughed, flipping her blonde waves.
"This is part of the interview process. We're searching for someone who can hold their own, even as an employee. This club attracts wealthy clientele with their own shadows. We can't afford to lose another life," she said seriously, and I nodded, understanding the gravity of her words.
She made a valid point.
"That's reasonable. However, you mentioned earlier that the men who came here are deceased. They didn't pass the interview," I said, raising an eyebrow. She merely shrugged in response.
"I didn't cause their deaths. I was just joking around. They've gone back to their normal lives," she said, rolling her eyes with a slight smirk. "I understand," I replied.
Ria then picked up some items from her desk, including cotton balls, an ointment, and a small mirror, which she adjusted to examine her face while she took care of her injured nose and swollen lips.
"You start work tomorrow. Your uniform is in your locker in the changing room, locker number 702," she informed me.
"Alright. If that's everything, I'll be on my way," I said with a soft chuckle. She shot me a flat look before turning away. I smirked a bit more but decided to respect her space and exited the white room.
I'm back at my Little Flower's house, and the door swings open. Oh, I almost forgot—I broke her doorknob. As I step inside, I wonder what she's up to, so I slip on the fox mask.
In the living room, I hear water running in the bathroom. My curiosity piqued, I make my way to the door, gently twist the doorknob, and push it open. And there she is.
Naked.
How both adorable and naïve she is. I stitched up her cuts not long ago, and now she's in the shower, which will just loosen the threads. But if that's her choice, then so be it. I won't re-stitch her if they reopen; she needs to learn.
What's even more amusing is that she's completely unaware of my presence. My gaze drifts down to her perfectly rounded backside. Oh, how I want to give those cheeks a playful smack. I can feel excitement building within me. She knows just how to enchant a madman.
My Little Flower continues washing her shoulders with soap before moving down her legs, hissing in discomfort. I remain silent, savoring this moment of watching her. I prefer to surprise her, knowing how much she adores unexpected moments.
Once she finishes applying soap, she rinses off, letting the suds cascade down to the floor. Limping slightly, she grabs a towel and begins to dry her flawless body while gazing into the mirror, her expression reflecting disgust and pain.
In that instant, a darkness envelops my emotions. I revel in her pain and self-loathing. That's my wish for her—to nurture that feeling of inadequacy, even as I tell her just how beautiful and perfect she truly is. I want her to recognize how much she means to me, forcing her to place her trust in me and lean on me. I desire to see her vulnerable and fragile, needing to remain close to me, even in her darkest times.
I hear her gasp. Our eyes lock, and I notice that she has seen me in the mirror's reflection. A thrill of excitement surges through my body.
She finally realizes I'm there.
I push the door open wider and lean against the frame, arms crossed.
"Hello, Little Flower. How was your shower?" I inquire in a tone that is both dark and teasing.
She stares at me, trembling, and then looks downward, suddenly aware of her nakedness. She quickly wraps herself in a towel, and I catch the flush rising to her cheeks. So charming.
"Oh, come on, sweetheart. It's not like you haven't been exposed to me before. We did have that one time, remember?" I say playfully, watching her face turn even redder, although she holds her ground, glaring at me. A little feistiness—how appealing.
"Once. Yes, that was a one-time thing," she replies bluntly. Oh, my Little Flower is in denial. I know how much she relished the intensity and control I brought. "Still denying the pleasure? You did moan quite loudly, Little Flower," I say in a gentle tone, noticing her eyes widen and her teeth clench in silence. Good. She knows I'm right, so she chooses not to argue.
What a good girl.
"Just because I moaned doesn't mean I enjoyed it!" she retorts with a frosty glare. While it might intimidate some, her fierce look only intensifies my desire. I can feel excitement stirring in my pants. "We both know you did," I respond smugly, pushing off from the doorframe and stepping closer. Her breath catches, and I find it delightful.
"What's the matter, little flower? Are you frightened?" I said playfully as I closed the distance between us, leaning in closer. My lips brushed against her ear, and I could feel her body shake next to mine.
"Have you finally understood that attempting to remove my mask will lead to a rather severe consequence?" I inquired calmly. She let out a small, fearful whimper and nodded slowly, her eyes cast down. I gently grasped her chin and lifted it so that she could meet my gaze, even though my face was concealed. "Don't look away. Focus on me. I'm the one speaking here, little flower." My voice held an air of authority.
Tears began to form in her eyes, but I tenderly wiped them away before they could fall, brushing against her bruised cheeks. "Shh... Don't cry," I murmured, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. I felt her gasp against me, stirring a wave of desire within. My hand slid to the small of her back, drawing her closer, while my other hand moved to her neck, massaging it as I deepened the kiss, my tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth.
"Mhmm... Hngn..." She moaned against my lips, our tongues dancing at a leisurely pace. I struggled to maintain my composure; the urge to have her overwhelmed me, but I needed to stay calm. I could feel her fingers entwined in my hair, and a joyful groan escaped my lips. My hand traveled from her back down to her thigh, then slid up to her inner thigh, just beneath her towel, causing her to release a soft, seductive moan.
I continued kissing her, my hand teasingly grazing near her core. I could sense her arousal, and I yearned to give her everything I had. My fingers brushed against her most sensitive spot, making her squirm with delight. I broke the kiss, breathing heavily as I gazed at her with desire.
"Do you enjoy that?" I asked breathlessly, then began to rub my fingers against her clit slowly. Her face transformed into one of sheer bliss, and her grip around my neck tightened. "Ahh~ yes!" she cried out in ecstasy.
I smirked, my expression darkening, though she remained oblivious. My grip on her neck tightened, and I watched as her eyes widened in shock, then fear. I relished her terror. "Wh-what?" she gasped. I used my other hand to push her firmly against the mirror, her head hitting the surface with a thud. She let out a groan of pain and clutched her head. "Wh-why?" she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, but I simply tilted my head and laughed darkly.
"Oh, little flower, I'm a wicked man who takes lives for pleasure. Did you think I would be gentle and sweet with you?" I said, regarding her as little more than a trivial annoyance.
And that's all she was to me—an entertainer who ignited my desires.
I stepped closer, gripping her chin firmly. "Let me explain something to you, little flower. When a sinful man shows you kindness and affection, it's all an act." Her eyes widened in betrayal at my words. She was quick to assume I had changed. What a naive girl. Just moments ago, I had pursued her, and now she easily forgave me and allowed me to kiss her.
"I thought..." she began, but I placed a finger on her lips to silence her, a sadistic expression on my face. "I know. But your expectations are misguided."
I then pulled out a butterfly knife from my pocket, displaying it to her, and I could tell that her face drained of color. She remembered the knife I had used to mark her stomach. "Oh, this seems familiar, doesn't it?" I asked, my tone teasing yet menacing, tossing the knife into the air before catching it effortlessly upon its descent.
"No... Please..." she pleaded, which only fueled my desire to torment her further. "That will never happen, little flower." Her body quaked as she hugged herself, leaning against the sink, her head spinning from the impact with the mirror.
"Wh-what..." she stammered, tears continuing to flow from her eyes.
"I'm going to give you a head start," I said cheerfully, gesturing with the knife close to her face. She gasped in shock, clearly waiting for me to continue.
"You run. If I catch you, I'll mark you again," I stated directly, a sinister grin spreading across my face. I could feel the excitement coursing through me, making my muscles tense and the adrenaline surge within. I noticed how my body reacted, a thrill racing through me.
As soon as I finished speaking, she didn't hesitate—she pushed me away and limped out of the bathroom, looking back as she escaped.
"That's it, little flower," I called after her, a mix of amusement and dark joy evident in my voice. I could hear her footsteps echoing and her terrified cries.
This is going to be quite the thrilling experience!