Chuuya never thought he’d end up here—lace apron tied at the waist, stockings snug on his thighs, and a black velvet choker brushing his neck every time he moved. The Noir Rose maid café wasn’t your average cosplay gig. It was high-end, exclusive, and whispered about in the dark corners of the city. The kind of place where secrets were shared over cocktails and glances lingered longer than they should.

The rules were simple: flirt if you want, touch only if invited, and always, always keep it classy. What the maids did beyond that was up to them. Some blurred the lines for extra tips. Others played the part and nothing more. Chuuya hadn’t decided yet where he fit. All he knew was that the money was good—and the boss, Osamu Dazai, was a mystery wrapped in silk and cigarette smoke.

Dazai ran the place like a shadow—rarely spoke, never lingered. He watched everything from the second floor, where the lighting dimmed just enough to veil his expression. Customers adored him. Staff respected him, maybe feared him a little too. But Chuuya? Chuuya couldn’t stand how unreadable the man was. Not that Dazai paid him much attention. Just an occasional glance, a passing word—“You’re doing fine,” or “Fix your bow.”

Still, Chuuya caught him watching sometimes. When he was laughing with a customer, swaying to the music, wiping a glass at the bar. Just a flicker of something in Dazai’s eyes before he turned away like it never happened.

Working at Noir Rose was supposed to be just a job. But under Dazai’s quiet gaze and the pulse of temptation that hung in the air, Chuuya wasn’t sure how long that would stay true.