So I’m a high-schooler, but I came to this other world and ended up a prostitute—that’s my dumb life right now, but I guess I got used to the work, and right when I was getting bored...I came across this sport called Kickin’ the Can.
The days I spent with my team of adorable, gentle boys made me nostalgic for my younger days, and I got so hooked on the game that I let the quality of my work slip.
But once the Kickin’ the Can tournament ended and all I had left was my job at the pub and brothel, I’ve felt like a kid in normal classes after the hustle and bustle of the Sports Festival.
I can’t mope around forever, though, so I’ve been trying to boost my sales, but it’s just not going very well.
“Oh, it’s Mister Chokey Idiot. Long time no see!”
“Hmm? Oh, you’re still here, Haru. I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I thought you quit.”
“Would I ever quit? Hey, seems like you’ve been cleaning up gambling lately, so how about with that cash, you and I—”
“Heh, sorry. Tonight I’m set on Shequraso. I’ll do your flat ass another day, heh-heh-heh. Wait a sec, who’re you callin’ Mister Chokey Idiot?”
“Oh, it’s Mister Naked Guitar Perv! It’s me, Mu-so-and-so from somewhere about the senses or something. Would you like to strum a tune with me?”
“Oh, uh, right. Sorry, but I’m here to listen to Shequraso sing tonight, so if you’ll excuse me...”
My eroticism, which had been so effective in awakening the innocent boys to their sexuality during the tournament, was treated like a childish game in the brothel full of pros, and the gap in customer attention pained me.
Or rather, I felt like my intuition around the shop had dulled. That’s what I get for playing heroine to children.
I’ll never reach my sales goals at this rate...!
“Haru, that dress is cute. It looks great on you.”
As I was fretting, our singing princess Shequraso complimented my new dress as she passed by the other side of the stage.
I bought it with the prize money from Kickin’ the Can. Another one of the girls, Lupe, complimented it earlier. I’m just so happy that people are noticing. It cheers me up.
It looks a bit like my high-school uniform. I’m really glad I bought it.
Shequraso was up on stage, radiant as always. She has a truly beautiful voice, and she’s at peak cool when she’s singing like this. It’s hard to believe she’s the same one who got mad at me for sleeping in until right before the shop opened.
Yeah. Everyone fights using their own weapons. When the pressure is on, they come through.
And they still manage to look out for their friends. The atmosphere of the shop is important, you know. They’re great communicators who not only read the vibes, but can change them, too. I really admire that about the higher-ranking girls. The number-one girl is a bit unique, but everyone is amazing.
So what’s my weapon, then? Is it that I’m the stupidest of us all?
Being depressed is definitely a bad look.
“Okay, let’s go, you guys!”
I burst onto the stage to hype up the audience. Some people enjoy my wotagei and dancing from the other world, and I twirled around with the spectators who were into the music.
It was really fun and all, but sometimes I feel like my place to shine is pretty limited.
＊
“Are you stupid?”
Later, a customer was lecturing me.
When I was twirling around like crazy with the Shequraso otaku, I spilled someone’s drink. That’s like the number-one thing you’re not supposed to do.
“I’m sorry, sir...”
“And you were so loud, making a ruckus in the middle of the song. Some people want to listen in silence!”
I had my defenses: I only shouted between singing parts, and the band decides which songs are for partying to. I wasn’t just going nuts at random.
But there definitely are some customers who just want to enjoy the music, and even though it was a hyper otaku who shoved me, it was true that I was the one who spilled the drink. I didn’t even realize the ring of dancers had reached the customers sitting down with their glasses, so that was my fault.
I’m embarrassed, as a Shequraso otaku, to have committed such an error...!
“A child like you jumping around without thinking degrades the shop. There aren’t many places you can listen to quality music like this, you know.”
“Right...I’m sorry.”
I guess I’m really not on today. Madam will scold me about this again later. I have to brace myself.
The customer in front of me was still young, with well-defined features, but he seemed a bit neurotic. If he were a school teacher, some of the girls would probably like him.
I don’t usually get along with that type, though. In junior high, I had a teacher who looked just like him who was always chewing me out.
“Sheesh. And your skirt is so short.”
“Ugh...sorry...”
“You’re young, but you prefer this vulgar appearance? Did you not realize you’ve been flashing your underwear this whole time?”
He really is just like my teacher. I used to get scolded for the same kinds of things.
As he had me standing there to lecture me, he downed one drink after another. He kept grumbling, all the while ogling different parts of my body—my thighs, my chest.
Then in a low voice, he gestured at me slightly with his jaw. “...How much?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t misunderstand. I didn’t come here to buy a woman. I only came to listen to Shequraso sing.”
“Uh, okay?”
“But then you bothered me and ruined my mood. And I have serious reservations about your capability as a working girl. I just happen to have time, and if I’m going to be disturbed in this manner in the future, I won’t be able to drink here in peace, so I thought I would give you an extended, private warning. How much to be shown to your room?”
“It’s 80 rubers, but...”
“Hmm. Well, that’s probably reasonable.”
He stacked the money on the table. Of course, I wasn’t happy about being bought, more like, Uuuugh. I felt like I’d been ordered to stay after school—by that teacher I hated.
“Thank you...”
I trudged up to the second floor, holding my hands against my butt so my panties wouldn’t show—I didn’t want him to get mad again.
He glared at my ass the whole time, grumbling, “Don’t get any crazy ideas.”
＊
“...Don’t misunderstand. I just wanted to try something. I knew what would happen. It’s the same as before... It’s not your fault.”
I thought I was going to get a lecture, but instead he told me to strip, so I stripped. Oh, so we’re gonna do it after all, I thought, but then he just sat on the bed and hung his head in his hands.
“I bought Shequraso before, too. It was the same way then. I’m what you call impotent. Maybe I’m sick. But you better not tell anyone. If you tell anyone, I’ll sue you!”
“Uh, okay...”
I won’t spread it around, but probably I’ll tell Lupe and Shequraso over lunch. That’s about the only place I really could talk about it, anyhow.
Customers like this aren’t actually so uncommon. I mean, it’s a pub downstairs, so there are definitely guys who get wasted and buy a girl but can’t get it up.
We call those guys “take ’n runs”—because we have to give them their money back. We have no value if we don’t satisfy the customer. It’s a laugh, right? The misogy-fucking-ny of this shitty male-dominated society.
What a day. First a lecture, then he’s a take ’n run? I got caught by the worst customer in history. As I put on my clothes, I sighed in my head and asked, “Did you drink too much?”
“Does that have anything to do with it?”
“It seems to. Also, do you ever do it yourself?”
“Wh-Why should I have to tell you something like that? But of course not! Do I seem like that kind of man to you?”
“Err, sorry. I just heard that if you can jerk yourself off, then you’re not a limp-di— err, impotent.”
“Is that so?”