Backstage at the Neon Harem wasn't glamorous.
Not yet at her level.
It was a maze of cables, warm spotlights, half-broken mirrors, perfume clouds, and dancers adjusting makeup with one hand while smoking with the other.
For Verosika, it was home turf.
But tonight… tonight something felt off.
She stepped into the dressing room, ears still ringing from the cheers. Someone handed her a towel, another gave her a drink, but she ignored them both.
She dropped into her chair, stared at her reflection, and frowned.
Her voice had been perfect moves were sharp.
The crowd adored her.
So why did she feel like she had missed a beat?
"Damn it…" she muttered under her breath.
Her reflection stared back, teasingly smug.
"You're shaken," it seemed to say.
By him.
Her nails tapped against the mirror frame.
"Who was that?" she whispered.
Not expecting an answer.
But the question hung in the room like smoke.
She replayed the moment again the way their eyes met, the stillness in him, the lack of obvious desire, fear, or ego.
He didn't fit here.
Didn't blend into the Lust Ring's chaos.
Everyone else came to these shows with hunger, with lust, with longing or ego. They came wanting something from her a fantasy, a moment, an escape.
He looked like someone who didn't want anything.
Except maybe the truth.
That was new.
Uncomfortably new.
A knock on the frame made her jump slightly.
Liri, one of the backup dancers, peeked in.
"You good, Vee? You zoned out on the mirror like you saw a ghost."
Verosika's tail flicked.
"No ghost. Just… thinking."
"About the crowd?"
"…Sure," she lied.
Liri rolled her eyes and left her alone again.
Verosika leaned back in her seat and slowly exhaled.
What bothered her wasn't just his presence.
It was what she'd felt.
A vibration not magical, not demonic, but emotional. A weight. Calmness that cut through the Lust Ring's noise like a knife.
Most demons wore their emotions on the surface.
He wore his like armor.
She hated that she couldn't read him.
But hated even more that she wanted to.
Her tail curled around one leg as she tapped her fingers again, faster now.
"Focus, Vee," scolded herself. "It's just one guy. One weird guy."
But even as she said it… knew it wasn't true.
She'd performed in front of thousands over her life.
Could recognize dangerous eyes, hungry eyes, cruel eyes, dumb eyes, powerful eyes.
But his weren't any of those.
They were… aware.
And that was the part she couldn't let go of.
Whoever he was, he wasn't a typical slum demon. Not a gangster.
Patron. Not a noble either nobles had a scent of ego and privilege she could smell across the room.
He was something else.
Something she couldn't categorize.
Hated not having a category.
She glanced at her wrist a small, cheap charm bracelet, one she'd bought with her first real paycheck. Pink hearts, a tiny lipstick charm, and a silver star.
She clutched it absently.
"Should I find him?" whispered.
The thought startled her.
She wasn't the kind of girl who chased after strangers.
Strangers chased after her.
Yet here she was
thinking about one shadowy figure instead of celebrating her successful showcase.
Verosika pressed her palms to her face and groaned.
"Ugh. This is so stupid."
She stood abruptly, pacing the room in short, sharp steps.
Okay.
Think logically.
He wasn't a problem.
Didn't approach her
Not try to flirt act like a creep.
So why did she
"Stop," she hissed at herself.
Slumped into her chair again, staring at the ceiling.
The truth was simple:
For the first time in two years of performing, someone existed in the audience she couldn't predict manipulate charm by default.
Someone who looked at her like she was… real.
Not a product , fantasy , sensation.
Real.
The realization made her stomach twist.
She didn't know if she liked that feeling. Or hated it.
But did know one thing:
This wouldn't be the last time she thought about him.
Not even close.
Somewhere far across the club, music shifted to the next act, muffled and distant. Cheers rose again, but they no longer reached her.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
On a stranger with calm eyes and an unreadable aura.
She leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin on hands, staring at the floor.
"…Who ARE you?" she whispered again and why do I care so much?
And this time, she wasn't asking in annoyance.
She was asking in genuine, unsettling curiosity.