Backstage quieted after her performance, but Verosika's thoughts didn't.
She sat in front of the mirror long after the dressing room emptied, letting her makeup half-smear as she replayed the same moment over and over.
Not the cheering crowd her best high note. the spotlight.
Him.
That one calm figure in the ocean of neon chaos.
Eventually she stood, grabbed her jacket, and made her way through the back hallway. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, but knew she wouldn't find it sitting alone in front of a mirror.
Found one of the tech workers first a lanky demon with headphones always half on his ears.
"Hey," said, leaning a hip against the wall, arms crossed casually. "You handled lights today, right?"
The tech looked up, startled.
"Uh yeah! Yeah, Miss Mayday. Great show tonight."
She gave him a soft smile part charm, part habit.
"Thanks. Listen… did you see a guy front-row-left? Tall, dark hair, kind of… still? Not reacting like the others?"
The tech blinked.
"Huh? Most people were acting wild. Hard to notice someone not moving."
"But you did run the spotlight across the front rows."
"Yeah, but"
He paused.
Frowned.
"Oh. Actually… now that you mention it… there was someone weirdly calm. Didn't cheer. Didn't move much."
Verosika leaned in slightly.
"Do you know who he is?"
"No idea. Didn't look familiar."
He scratched the back of his head.
"Didn't look like a slummer either. Too clean. But not a noble nobles have a stink of perfume and ego."
"Yeah," Verosika muttered. "I know the type."
She thanked him and moved on, her tail swaying behind her not flirtatious, but agitated.
Next she found one of the bartenders cleaning a glass with mechanical precision. A big demon, old scars on his jaw, eyes like he had seen too much.
Verosika approached him with a different tone careful, respectful.
"You've seen nearly everyone who comes in here."
He snorted. "You're not wrong."
"I'm trying to identify someone from the crowd."
The bartender raised a brow.
"Fan trouble?"
"No," she said quickly.
"More like… curiosity."
He nodded slowly. "Describe him."
She did.
The bartender froze halfway through polishing a glass.
"…Oh. Him."
Verosika straightened.
"You did see him."
He nodded again, more cautiously this time.
"Didn't give a name. Didn't order anything. Didn't talk. Just watched the room like he owned a piece of it."
"And you let him sit there without a drink?"
"He didn't feel like someone you tell what to do."
That stirred something in her chest not fear, not excitement.
Recognition.
Exactly what she felt earlier.
Verosika lowered her voice.
"You know what he was?"
The bartender shook his head.
"No idea. But he didn't smell like a killer, a noble, a pimp, or a gangster."
She frowned.
"That doesn't leave many categories."
"Yeah," he said, still polishing that same glass. "That's what bothered me."
For the first time tonight, Verosika's skin prickled.
She moved on.
The bartender watched her leave, flustered by the lack of information, and couldn't help but smile a little. The boss really is different.
He was one of the better warriors in the inner circle and wore two short runic blades on his belt under his shirt.
He was responsible for Verosika's safety, so she couldn't expect any real answers from him.
The Dressing Rooms Rumors Spread, But No Answers Come
Her dancers were packing up. One of them Liri noticed Verosika linger near the door.
"You looking for someone?" Liri asked.
"Maybe."
"You mean the tall guy? Dark hair? Gorgeous but terrifying?"
Verosika blinked.
"…You noticed him too?"
"Hard not to," Liri laughed. "He stared like he was grading your soul."
Verosika didn't laugh.
"Do you know who he is?"
"Nope. Never seen him before."
Another dancer chimed in:
"I thought maybe he was a scout? But scouts don't look like that."
Verosika exhaled, frustrated.
"Did he talk to anyone?"
Both shook their heads.
"He barely blinked."
Which matched her own impression perfectly.
Her Manager Tries to Dig
Her temporary manager a sharp-tongued succubus named Failyne caught her before she could leave.
"You look tense," Failyne said, arms crossed. "Bad show?"
"It was fine."
"Then what's wrong?"
Verosika hesitated.
"Do you remember the guy in the front row?"
Failyne squinted.
"…No. Should I?"
"Tall, dark hair"
"Oh! Him."
She snapped her fingers.
"I thought he was with someone. But no one approached him."
Verosika licked her lips, unsure why her voice dropped.
"You think he's trouble?"
Failyne shook her head.
"No. Trouble makes noise. That one made silence."
And then she added:
"Be careful though. People who don't react are either deeply broken… or very powerful."
Verosika stayed quiet for a long moment.
In the Alley Her Final Attempt
Outside the club, the night air was cooler, tinged with smoke and neon haze. She scanned the alley the crowd leaving, performers chatting, drunks stumbling, lovers fighting.
No sign of him.
No strange presence. No calm aura. Nothing.
She swallowed disappointment and annoyance simultaneously.
Then, softly, almost to herself:
"Who are you…?"
For a young succubus trying to rise in Hell, this was a dangerous new feeling.
Not desire ,fear, ambition.
Curiosity.