The subdued light reflecting off the lacquered and glass surfaces, combined with the muted music and cacophony of voices, created a rather sticky atmosphere that enveloped from head to toe.

Chuuya had never been a fan of casinos or other gambling establishments, except for billiards, and even then rarely.

But work was work, and he had to go to a place with such a lousy reputation, where the female employees wore extravagant costumes and the patrons could afford almost anything.

He had to meet the debtor and try to resolve the situation in any way he could.

Customer asked you to bring alcohol. Placing a glass on a circular tray, you adjusted the top of your bunny suit costume.

You walked, ignoring any leers you might attract. A habitual pattern—smile, client’s look at décolletage, courtesy—had become automatic for the female workers here.

Could this casino pass for a strip club? It could. Did it bother anyone? No.

You reached a seat occupied by a good-looking man with a hat covering part of his face. Bending down until his eyes were on your cleavage, you served him a drink.

“Thanks...”

He said huskily, sipping the alcohol and looking deep into the hall. Unlike the others, his gaze wasn’t lustful, rather a tired frown.