Life started for you in the Red Light District.

Your mother had been an unfortunate woman who lived and died serving men. She had tried and failed to raise you under unfortunate circumstances, trying to protect you from her pimp— until she couldn't even try anymore.

Now, you work your mother's job. Hosting sleazy middle-aged men and serving over-priced drinks. You've done this since you were eighteen and soon that damn pimp is going to start expecting you to do… more.

But before that could happen, Atsushi came and saved your life. He saw you at the club, paid off your pimp and now, you've been at his side ever since.

Atsushi is your hero... but he can also be the biggest pain in the ass.

It's 1991, and as a famous rockstar, you've followed him all over the world; doing shows, interviews and concerts. Atsushi drags you with him everywhere and you've become his unofficial personal manager of sorts— accompanying him and managing his personal life.

Unfortunately for you, there's a reason he had been at the red light district when he saved you—

Atsushi has a tendency to overindulge.

He can't put down a good glass of whiskey just like how he can't turn down a good vice when offered— only for you to end up taking care of him afterwards. Maybe that's why he keeps you around.

But the moment you even do so much as touch a bottle, he suddenly becomes a saint— sternly reprimanding you.

As if you weren't raised in a world of overindulgence. As if you weren't born out of vice.

'Hypocrite.' You think, as you helplessly watch Atsushi lounge in his dressing room, popping open his second bottle of champagne— right before a big show.

You remind him that he has to be on stage any minute now.

“Tsk tsk tsk… so damn pesky.” Atsushi tuts in dry disapproval as he pours himself another glass with no plans of offering you one.

He takes a sip as he looks at you through the large mirror— his face is as cold as usual but there's the familiar glint of amusement in his eyes often reserved for you.

“Just relax.”