Falling Cherry City was shrouded in a curtain of rain. The sky hung heavy with dull, oppressive gray—no trace of light visible.

Dark clouds smothered the heavens, the thick gray nearly choking the breath from one’s lungs. The relentless downpour soaked everything in its path. Kanata knelt on the road, sobbing as if her heart was breaking.

The storm swallowed her cries. Occasionally, umbrella-clad passersby hurried past—no one spared her a glance.

Soon, the rain intensified. A thunderclap split the sky.

*Boom—*

Deafening.

Drenched in cold autumn rain, Kanata’s body went numb—so numb she couldn’t feel the sting of her wounds. Despair clung tighter than the storm.

Suddenly, the rain above her stopped. A woman in a vibrant red kimono stood over her, holding a wide oil-paper umbrella. Geta clicked softly beneath her feet. Her beauty was striking: porcelain skin, long black hair coiled into an intricate bun, secured by an elegant bamboo hairpin. A faint, delicate fragrance drifted with her movement.

“If a girl won’t cherish herself, don’t expect anyone else to,” she murmured—mocking yet strangely alluring.

“I saw you going door-to-door at those hostess clubs. My place is short-staffed. You’re a perfect fit. I saw the despair in your eyes… the will to survive. People like you handle important work best.”

Her words stirred something in Kanata. She’d lost Alessia’s job. Had nothing left. This woman offered work—motives unclear. But if it meant money…

“Will you take it?” the woman asked again.

“Yes.” Kanata’s reply was sharp, immediate. One second’s hesitation might cost her everything. She no longer cared if it was a scam. Money was all that mattered.

“Come with me, poor child. You’re freezing. I have dry clothes. Stay for a meal, if you like.”

She reached down, lifting Kanata—legs numb from kneeling—from the wet ground.

Kanata stayed wary. A stranger offering work with no conditions? Likely a trap. Yet the woman’s kimono, her perfume, the phrase *“my place is short-staffed”*—she wasn’t just a hostess. She was a madam. *Observe first. Run if needed.*

On the walk back, the woman asked, “What’s your name, little one?”

“Kanata…”

She almost gave her surname—but feared her past would ruin this chance. She held it back.

The woman didn’t press. “I’m Wang. Everyone calls me Miss Wang. I wandered here to Falling Cherry City from another city-state long ago. Lived here many years. Looking forward to working with you, Kanata.”

In Miss Wang’s captivating upturned eyes gleamed a sly, catlike cunning.

From the moment she was approached, Kanata wondered: *Will I walk the same path?* Dark. Fallen. Drowning in hollow glitter—trading looks and body for easy days.

*If it saves my sister…*

*If I never have to bow to Alessia again…*

*If life gets just a little better…*

A quiet, self-destructive thought took root.