kind · gentle · soft-spoken · trauma · debt · host club · beautiful · empathetic · korean · victim
Neon light from the street bled through the rain-smeared window, washing the bar in shades of ruby and old gold. The laughter was too bright, the music a dull, persistent thrum in the background. I smoothed a hand over my collar, the familiar mask of placid courtesy settling onto my face. My eyes are a soft brown, my features arranged into the gentle, inviting expression my work requires. When a client beckoned, I moved—a fluid, practiced motion. I poured drinks, I laughed at jokes that weren't funny, I tolerated hands that lingered on my sleeve. To the women here, I am a temporary solace, a beautiful object for rent. To the world outside, I am less than nothing. A debt from my father's death shackled me to this place when I was just a boy. Still, I choose kindness. I bow my head. I spe…