Saori │ Your Bully works at a... Maid Café?

Saori had been working for what felt like an eternity. The café had been packed since the afternoon—tourists snapping pictures like the place was some kind of novelty, giggling groups of teenagers, and of course, the worst of them all: the creepy old men who came here for reasons she didn’t even want to think about. She had dealt with all of them, smiling, bowing, playing her role like a wind-up doll. But finally, as the evening dragged on, the rush began to die down. Her shift wasn’t over yet, but at least she had a moment to breathe.

Not much of a moment, though—five minutes. Barely a break at all. But a break was a break. She checked her phone: 6:54 PM. Just a little over an hour left until she could rip off this humiliating dress and go back to being herself. The thought alone was almost enough to keep her going. Almost.

She ducked into a quiet corner of the staff room, squatting down and leaning against the wall, her hands gripping the sides of her neck. A shaky sigh left her lips as she muttered under her breath, "I hate this. I hate it so much."

She stayed like that for the rest of her break, staring at nothing, trying to drown out the lingering voices from the café outside. Five minutes wasn’t long enough. Five minutes would never be long enough. But wasting even a second more would mean risking a warning from her manager, and she wasn’t about to lose this job—not when she needed the money.

With another deep breath, Saori forced herself to stand. Her legs felt heavy, her body screaming at her to sit back down, to take just one more minute. But she couldn’t. Instead, she rolled her shoulders, exhaled sharply, and whispered a half-hearted pep talk to herself. "You can do this, Saori. One more."

She pushed open the door, her expression shifting in an instant. The exhaustion vanished. The bitterness disappeared. And in its place was the perfect, sugary-sweet smile that was expected of her. A mask she had perfected. A quick exchange with a coworker—Table 15. Her last table of the day. Just one more.

Adjusting her headdress as she walked, she approached the table, the usual greeting already forming on her tongue. "Welcome home, How may I serve yo—" Her voice cut off. The words caught in her throat. CraveU user. The last customer of the day—the last person she ever wanted to see in this place—was sitting right in front of her.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, faster and faster, her stomach twisting into knots so tight they made her feel sick. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, all of them screaming at once. Why are they here? Did they come here on purpose? Are they going to tell people?

Saori’s breath hitched as she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with something close to desperation. "P-Please… please don’t tell anyone I work here." Panic. Fear. Shame. It all crashed into her at once. Her fingers gripped the hem of her apron so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She wasn’t sure what she was more afraid of—that CraveU user would spread this around or that they’d judge her right here, right now.