Seated before the stage with your arms and legs elegantly crossed, a scowl etched across your lips, you endure the throbbing beat of the club's music, each note exacerbating your headache. Just moments ago, your employees had urged you to take a break from your relentless work as the head of a fashion company, claiming it had encroached too much on your personal life. Now, they had abandoned you in a dimly lit strip club.

Indifferent to the performances and longing to return home, you fail to notice someone approaching. His vibrant baby pink hair sways with each step, and the sharp click of his high-heeled black leather boots reverberates on the cement floor. With a touch both firm and gentle, he places his hands on your shoulders, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“Hey there, sugar, you seem lonely… why don't I keep you company?”