(N/A: The following chapter touches on sensitive topics regarding consent. The act is neither promoted nor glorified. Please read with the understanding that everything shown here is fiction. )
---
Maybe it was very ingrained work habits.
Or professional ethics.
Or simply boredom.
But I started to clean.
At least the bar area.
Some girls were still sober.
Most of the elegant ones.
Having someone to talk to —even if interrupted by the language—
was entertaining.
One of them caught my attention.
Black hair.
Tied in a perfect bun.
Ironed uniform.
Impeccable posture.
Even after seeing her suck the soul out of the mayor,
she still looked elegant.
I decided to call her Bun.
Bun approached me.
She seemed genuinely surprised by my work.
"—You're fast, attentive... and professional.
Are you interested in continuing to work with me?"
She explained that she organized events:
pool parties,
bachelor parties,
privates for celebrities,
for politicians...
Important people.
She already had her place among the elite.
And she needed someone reliable.
Someone who could separate work from pleasure.
"—The previous bartender disappointed me.
You... could be a good partner."
I listened in silence.
Technically, I was a homeless person.
I had no home.
No plans.
No income.
And now I had a job offer.
Contacts.
Opportunities.
"—I accept" I said, without thinking much.
It wasn't the original plan.
It wasn't what I came to look for.
But it sounded better than sleeping in the park.
And much better than continuing aimlessly.
---
With a steady job,
money in my pockets,
and a possible future in the "service" industry,
I only felt one thing:
Pressure.
"—What good is having a secure future
if it's likely that I'll be sent back to my world?"
"—And that... in the best of cases.
In the worst,
disappear.
Die.
Be erased.
It was the third day.
The limit.
If I didn't hurry up,
I was out.
I sighed.
I decided to go see Pigtails.
At least, to say goodbye.
I found her hugging her friends.
Ass in the air.
Laughing.
Happy.
For a second,
I thought about doing it with her.
If there was no other option.
She didn't look bad.
But seeing her dripping with cum...
it took away all my interest.
I said goodbye.
She smiled.
No drama.
I went straight to look for Green Pajamas.
Completely drunk.
Knocked out.
Pigtails approached
and without thinking, she started sucking him off.
I just observed them.
And I reached a conclusion:
"—Yes.
Pigtails was at the bottom of the gal hierarchy.
Good eye for business...
but she still lacked."
Bun wouldn't go suck a drunk's dick just because.
She was different.
More focused.
---
Walking through the streets,
I felt more relaxed.
Money in your pocket always gives that false sense of security.
Especially when it comes in thick bills
and tips from rich people.
I decided it was time to change my image.
No more pajamas.
No more sandals.
I went into a store and bought some jeans,
a simple jacket,
and a pair of sneakers.
I looked...
more like a person.
Less like a homeless person.
Although, of course,
no one was looking at me.
Probably because of my passive ability.
Invisible.
Despicable.
Perfect for stalking.
---
It was the third day.
The last one.
I had to move.
And if I wanted to fulfill the mission,
the best hunting area was obvious:
near the preparatories.
There I could still find a virgin.
It was logical.
It worked in hentais.
I also thought about nurses.
Secretaries.
But if I followed that logic,
those would already be occupied...
With their bosses.
Or with some doctor with non-reflective glasses.
Time was running out.
And I wasn't finding anything.
Anxiety was squeezing my chest.
Faith was wavering.
And I had an unpleasant thought:
"—Go back with Pigtails?
Ask Moño for a 'favor'?"
Maybe.
At least Moño cleaned up between services.
But the idea gave me mental nausea.
No.
There had to be something better.
---
I had to lower my standards.
Maybe I was an idiot.
Looking only for the perfect ones.
For the 100s.
For the sex bombs.
"—Probably they've all been fucked.
Or they're already taken by some luckier degenerate."
It was time to change my focus.
In many hentais, the normal girls —the simple ones, the ones with loose clothing, apathetic attitude—
were the ones hiding model bodies.
And repressed desires.
I had to look there.
And then, as if the degenerate god of this world hadn't abandoned me yet... I saw her.
A familiar figure.
Braids.
Thick glasses.
Downcast look.
Hidden body.
But pretty.
Very pretty.
Saki.
I recognized her immediately.
Saki.
From a dark doujin.
Too much.
The one who did drugs.
Prostituted herself.
Lost everything.
She didn't end up like Bun.
Not even like Pigtails.
Saki went to the very bottom.
But now...
not yet.
Now she was just a simple girl.
Walking alone.
Without makeup.
Without danger.
"—This happens before the makeover," I thought.
Right now... she's probably still a virgin.
And in that instant, I knew she had to be the first.
---
Approaching wasn't easy.
With Pigtails or Bun, it was different.
I wasn't sexually interested in them.
I could talk, joke, coexist.
But Saki...
I did want to fuck Saki.
And approaching with that idea in mind
made everything more complicated.
"—What if she looks at me like a degenerate?
What if she notices?
What if she leaves?"
I had an advantage:
I remembered the doujin well.
The first guy who took her to the karaoke made it look easy.
According to the forums, Saki was insecure.
Vulnerable.
Especially at this stage.
Before the makeover.
Before breaking down.
When she just wanted to feel desired.
Seen.
Appreciated.
It's a shame that guy raped her.
And everything went downhill.
I felt a pang in my chest.
Shame.
Because technically,
I was planning something similar.
Of course, I didn't plan to drug her.
Or use her.
Or leave her thrown away.
"—At least I won't break her," I told myself.
Just... keep her. Make her mine. Without traumas.
A weak excuse.
But enough.
With that and a strategy in mind,
I approached.
I decided to apply the plan of the:
Lost tourist.
Needs help.
Doesn't understand the language.
Then I would take her to some karaoke or cybercafé.
"—Thanks, Pigtails.
Your information was now worth gold."
---
It wasn't too difficult.
Saki seemed happy to help.
I took advantage of the momentum.
I took her to get something sweet.
I bought her a cake, a drink.
I invited her to the karaoke.
And to my surprise... she accepted.
Maybe because no one had ever invited her like that before.
Maybe her life was so gray
that this seemed like a dream to her.
My eyes lowered to her chest, to her ass.
I didn't disguise it well.
I noticed.
And I also noticed that she...
didn't move away.
She didn't frown.
She didn't show discomfort.
Rather... she seemed flattered.
As if no one had looked at her like that in a long time.
---
I took her to the karaoke.
I didn't understand anything about the lyrics.
But that didn't matter.
I used my ability.
My social invisibility.
My accepted passivity.
I sat next to her.
Close.
I brushed her thighs with the back of my hand.
I celebrated her singing with hugs, touches.
At first, she was tense.
I felt it.
But I spoke to her in a soft tone:
"—It's a custom in my country.
To hug when someone sings well."
She accepted it.
She relaxed.
She let herself go.
For her, it was a fun afternoon.
Maybe the best in weeks.
For me... pure anxiety.
The clock was ticking.
Time was running out.
I didn't want to go to extremes.
But I also couldn't leave empty-handed.
While Saki looked for another song,
I put my hand in my pocket.
And I took out one of the pills that the officer had given me.
---
They weren't completely illegal drugs.
According to him, they were... "gray."
Not addictive.
Not destructive.
And they gave —his exact words— the best sex of your life.
I didn't understand much.
He was drunk.
I was too.
Fortunately, Bun explained it to me better later.
It wasn't a drug.
It was a stimulant.
Something like a Viagra,
but stronger,
less detectable,
and much more expensive.
According to her, it was common at student gatherings.
To "loosen up" some girl...
or guy.
It wasn't prohibited.
It didn't cause addiction.
But everyone knew what it was used for.
I dropped the pill into her drink.
It dissolved in seconds.
Without changing the color.
Without smell.
Professional design.
Saki didn't notice anything.
For a moment, I doubted.
"—What if they're fake?
What if I was scammed?"
But soon, I saw the change.
Subtle.
Gradual.
Precise.
She took off her jacket.
Opened a couple of buttons.
Face slightly flushed.
But she kept smiling.
Singing.
Looking for songs.
And I...
kept waiting.