INT. LUNAR CABARET – DOWNTOWN
Evah's footsteps echoed faintly in the empty hallway leading to the restroom. She sighed, her reflection greeting her from the mirror.
"Maybe I'm just thinking too much about him because of what I heard," she muttered, rinsing her hands under the running water. Cool droplets splashed against her trembling fingers.
"There's no way he'd be here," she whispered to her reflection.
Behind her came the sharp clicks of three pairs of heels. She turned slightly—just three women passing by and chatting as they entered the ladies' room.
When the sound faded, Evah exhaled and turned toward the exit—only to stop dead.
A man stood behind her.
"Hi," he greeted.
Evah froze, unsure if he was addressing her.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, bald, wearing a T-shirt and shorts—casual but with a heaviness in his stance that made her skin prickle.
"H-hello," she replied cautiously, forcing a polite smile before trying to step past him.
But his hand shot out and gripped her arm.
"Relax," he said, grinning—too wide, too slow.
Evah's stomach dropped. She pulled back, but his grip held.
"You've been looking at me for quite some time now," he said, voice lowering. "So I thought…"
"I think you're mistaken," she cut in, her tone firmer, though her voice trembled.
He chuckled, tilting his head. "Oh, I get it. You're roleplaying, right? That's a thing now, huh?" He stepped closer. "I like that."
This isn't good. Her mind screamed at her to move, to run.
"So… where do you want to do it?" he asked, reaching for her waist.
"Don't touch me!"
Her voice cracked as she shoved him away with all the strength she could muster. The man staggered back half a step—just enough for her to breathe—but he was still there, looming, blocking any escape.
Her heartbeat pounded so hard it hurt. The place where his arm had brushed hers still burned; even through the fabric, she could feel the grime of his touch. It crawled over her skin like something she needed to wash off—now.
From behind the door came the chatter of women leaving the restroom. The sound sparked a flicker of hope in her chest. If she could just call out—
She turned toward the noise.
That one second was a grave mistake.
A heavy hand seized her arm. The door beside her flew open, and she was dragged backward into darkness.
The stockroom was small and suffocating. The air reeked of damp cardboard and cleaning chemicals. When the door slammed shut, the echo swallowed her voice.
Then came the silence. Followed by the fading click of heels outside.
Her heart sank.
A rough palm clamped over her mouth. The man loomed close—too close—his grin twisted with sick delight.
"I have to say," he whispered, voice dripping with amusement, "I really like this roleplay. It feels... illegal."
He leaned in, breath hot against her cheek.
"I'll let go if you don't scream, okay?"
Evah nodded quickly, fear freezing her breath. But inside, her thoughts spun in chaos.
I need to get help. How?
No one can hear me here. If I scream and no one comes—what then?
There was no way out. Only one desperate chance.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything—the music, her breathing, even his words.
"Can we start?" he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation.
She saw his hand moving again, slow and deliberate, ready to grab her. The world seemed to slow with it.
And then—one name cut through the noise of her fear.
Her last impossible hope.
"Erion!"
Her scream ripped through the air, louder than she thought her voice could ever be.
For a heartbeat, the world went still. Only her echo lingered, trembling against the walls.