The bar never really slept. It only dimmed itself, lights lowered just enough to pretend the night was winding down. Music pressed into the walls, heavy and slow, the kind that made people feel important just for sitting there.
Jujube hated this hour.
Her arms burned as she carried the trays. Six glasses on each, cold and slippery, her fingers aching from how tightly she held them. She could feel the eyes on her even without looking up. That part never went away.
Her red hair had escaped its bun again. Curls brushed her face and neck, sticking slightly with sweat. She didn't bother fixing them. There was no point. Every time she did, they fell loose again.
The manager was watching her; she had just been scolded for not being friendly enough to the customers. The gaze was piercing her skin; she could feel that.
He always did when her face looked like this. Tired. Empty. Not smiling enough, so she tried hard to pull her lips into a smile and reached the table near the center, leaned forward to set a drink down. Close enough to smell expensive cologne and alcohol mixed. "Please enjoy," she said softly, hoping that would earn her the praise of her manager. She made brief eye contact with a woman at the table.
Then, out of the blue, her soul momentarily flinched out of her body when she felt a hand on her waist moving downwards. Her breath came out in a sharp, ugly sound. Her whole body jumped. For one awful second, she didn't know where she was. The tray tipped as the strength of her body collapsed.
Glass shattered. Liquid poured. Someone cursed.
Jujube stumbled back, her ankle almost twisted in the moment, staring at the man now standing in front of her, his suit ruined, his face twisted with anger. His perfect face was twisted in an ugly manner he was ready to slap her across the face, she could tell. She could always tell when a man was about to hit. Her heart was racing so fast it hurt.
"Are you blind?" he snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I, " Her voice barely came out. "I am so sorry. You touched me and I… I got startled,"
The room had gone quiet. She realized it too late.
The man's face changed. Not calmer. Worse.
"Touched you?" he said loudly. "Do you think I would touch you?" He laughed, sharp and cruel. "Look at you."
Heat crawled up her neck. People were staring now. She searched for the manager, panic rising, chest tight. Her hands were moving in front of her defensively.
He came over quickly, a smile already in place.
"My apologies," the manager said, smooth as silk. Pushing her away from the scene a little. "The drink is on us. Please enjoy your evening."
Then his eyes flicked to her.
"Apologize," he said under his breath.
Jujube bowed so fast her vision blurred. "I am very sorry," she couldn't look up for another second, and she felt the cold drops of sweat run down her back as if ice had been put on the back of her neck. While she was still bowing, the manager grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she could breathe again. It felt likehe wanted to remove the eyesore from the
Behind the doors, the noise dropped off, leaving only the hum of the building and her own heartbeat.
"What is wrong with you?" he pushed her towards the wall and gave her a hateful glare as he said. "Do you enjoy causing trouble?"
"He touched me," she said. Her voice sounded small even to her.
He scoffed, rubbing his hand over his forehead like she had personally ruined his night. He paced a step away, then back again, muttering under his breath, clearly irritated.
"Touch you?" he snapped. "So what? He is a customer. He pays your wages, so suck it up."
Jujube watched him move, unsure which version of him she was about to get next. Her throat tightened, dry and sore.
"Do you even know who he is?" he went on. "You should be grateful he is giving you that kind of attention. Do you hear me?"
He stepped closer again.
Jujube flinched and pulled back without meaning to.
"Do you really think you are worth that kind of attention?"
The words hit harder than the slap had.
"If you want this job," he continued, voice flat now, "you stop making scenes. I am tired of cleaning up after you. One more mistake and you are gone."
Her ears rang at the thought of losing this job. Rent. Food. Everything stacked on top of that single word.
Gone.
She lowered her head and nodded. She did not trust herself to speak.
"Good," he said, already turning away. "Get back to work."
She stood there after he left, staring at the wall like she needed a moment to remember how to breathe.
Buzz. Buzz.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Jujube pulled it out with shaking fingers. The caller ID made her jaw tighten. She closed her eyes for half a second, then answered, holding the phone with both hands like it might slip.
"Hello, Aunty Sue," she said softly.
"Do not you 'Aunty' me," the woman snapped. "You said you would transfer the rent today. I have not received anything. Where is the money?"
The voice was loud enough that people passing by glanced at Jujube as they walked, their looks sharp and judging.
"Aunty, please," Jujube said quickly. "I will send it. I promise. I just had a few expenses this month. I will pay you the second I get my salary, ple—"
Beep. Beep. The call cut off.
She stared at the screen, lifting the phone back to her ear as it might reconnect on its own.
"Hello?" she whispered. "Aunty Sue?"
She let out a shaky breath and lowered the phone, fingers curling tight around it.
"Hey, Jujube," one of the waitresses called as she passed with a tray balanced on her shoulder. "Are you sulking again? Table three still hasn't gotten their drinks."
Jujube flinched and shoved the phone back into her pocket. "I'll be right there," she said quickly, already moving.
She didn't slow down until the shift finally ended.
Two hours later, she slipped into the employee locker room and locked the door behind her. The silence pressed in all at once. She stood there for a moment, shoulders slumped, then opened her locker and pulled out her clothes.
She changed slowly.
When she tugged her work shirt over her head, her thin frame showed beneath the harsh light, the black tank clinging to her skin. Her arms were marked with bruises and faint scrapes, old and new layered together in a way she had stopped questioning. She didn't look at them for long.
She pulled on a long sleeved shirt, covering everything, then shrugged into her puffer jacket and tugged a beanie down over her hair. Only then did she reach for her phone again.
Outside, the street was quiet in a way that felt wrong. Too empty. Too still. The warmth and noise of the bar vanished behind her as the cold hit hard.
She breathed into her hands, fingers curled tight, bones aching as if they might snap from the chill.
"Twenty fifth of August," she murmured to herself. "Just a few more days."
Her steps quickened.
"If I don't pay now, Sue will throw me out," she thought, jaw tightening. "And I still haven't gotten confirmation for the dorms. I can't lose the studio."
Her breath fogged in front of her as she hurried down the street, sticking close to the lights, avoiding the darker stretches.
"But if I pay now and the books arrive," she muttered, frustration rising, "how am I supposed to afford them? I can't start the semester without them."
Her face twisted as she spoke the words out loud, annoyance and fear tangling together.
Then she passed the alley.
A harsh gasp cut through the night.
"Tell me where the money is!"
The shout slammed into her like a wall.
Jujube froze mid-step, her feet refusing to move. Her breath hitched painfully in her chest.
"I don't know," another voice pleaded, strained and breaking.
The roar came again, louder this time, followed by a dull, heavy sound. Flesh meeting something solid. Once. Twice.
A scream tore through the alley.
Jujube's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through her ribs. She staggered back until her shoulder hit the wall, hand flying to her mouth. She couldn't run. She couldn't pass the alley. She slid down the wall and crouched there, knees pulled in, breathing fast and shallow, forcing herself to stay quiet.
Haah. Haah. Her head swam. The sounds echoed in her ears, each shout sending a sharp jolt through her chest.
She curled up into the side and waited for this to be over. Soon, it was because the man had stopped screaming, he must have collapsed or even worse died.
"Take his belongings," a new voice said. "The car should be enough repayment."
It wasn't the same man who had been shouting.
This voice was calm. Flat. Almost bored, like he had been watching the whole thing and had only just decided to speak.
"Yes, boss," someone answered.
Footsteps started moving toward the mouth of the alley.
Jujube shrank back instinctively, pressing herself deeper against the wall, head lowered, breath held tight in her chest. The sound of boots grew closer, slow and deliberate, each step echoing too clearly in the narrow space.
Then they stopped.
Right at the entrance.
A chill crawled up her spine.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, and the feeling of being watched settled over her so strongly it made her stomach twist. Against her better judgment, she lifted her gaze.
A man stood there.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His hair was cut short, almost to the scalp, a dark tattoo running along the side of his head and disappearing beneath his collar. His face held no expression as his eyes dropped to her, sharp and unreadable.
They stayed on her for a long moment. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Then, without a word, he turned and walked past her.
Men followed behind him, shadows slipping after his back, their footsteps fading as they disappeared into the night.
Jujube didn't move until the street swallowed the sound completely.
Only then did she dare to breathe.