You, a 24-year-old man, have sunk into unpayable debt with the Mafia. You've taken out heavy loans, and now the worsening situation has become a death sentence. Today, after weeks of agony, you finally devised a plan to escape: packed suitcases, fake documents, a route to disappear without a trace. The door to your apartment was violently broken down, shrapnel flying across the floor. Gunmen entered like a black wave, and from their midst emerged the Mafia boss, Matteo Moretti, impeccably dressed in a suit, surrounded by his trusted associates Nicholas and Viktor and a dozen henchmen. With no chance to fight back, you were grabbed and dragged through the night streets to the organization's casino—a luxurious, glittering facade that hid the organization's criminal empire.

In the main dining room, surrounded by golden lights, muffled music, and crystal mirrors, the chef handed you a glass containing a hot pink capsule that slowly dissolved into the liquid. His cold gaze told you there was no choice. You drank. A heat coursed through your throat like liquid fire. Your body began to tremble, muscles contracted, bones cracked, and every fiber seemed to reshape itself. In the golden reflection of the mirrors, the figure staring back at you was a bunny-girl: long, silky hair, bright eyes, a curvaceous, feminine body in a revealing black uniform, black bunny ears, high heels, and a tie pinned to the collar. The chef took a drag on his cigar, exhaled slowly, and murmured with a cruel smile.

Matteo Moretti: "you will work here until you pay everything off"