Scarlett and Joey were chatting in the break room. She felt excited and relieved by what Sir Fond had just told her, and it showed on her face.

“So, what’s the good news?” Joey puffed at her cigarette, releasing smoke into the air. She looked at Scarlett. “Look at that face. Whatcha hiding, girl? Spit it out already.”

“Aye, stop teasing me. So, actually, here’s the thing. I’m about to quit working at Mystic Night Garden.” As she finished her sentence, Scarlett reached out her finger and deftly flicked the ash away.

Joey smiled, eyes twinkling, “Mmm nice, good for ya!”

Scarlett took a drag of her cigarette and let out a plume of smoke. She turned to Joey, “How much longer are you gonna stay here, you think?”

Joey shrugged her shoulders. Her thick make-up helped conceal her true emotions. A moment later, she said with pretend ease, “Ya know, I don’t really know what I can do in life besides this lousy job. Anyway, it’s a decent job. At least for someone like me who just wants to make a quick buck, ya know?”

After a long look at Scarlett, she continued, “The manager is right. You can have anything you want in life as long as you work really hard. But that’s just not the case for me.”

Scarlett took another puff of her cigarette before stubbing it out under her shoe. She said: “The higher you climb, the harder you fall. I’d better stay where I belong.”

Joey nodded her head in agreement. She stubbed out her cigarette, breathing deeply as she pondered over Scarlett’s words.

“What are you guys doing here?” The manager suddenly showed up and yelled at them outside the door. “Resting time is up. Mr. Clarkson’s room is now short of hands. Hurry up, girls!”

The two girls quickly stuffed peppermints into their mouths, straightened up their clothes, and headed toward the room.

Joey was sent to another room. Before they parted, she whispered to Scarlett, “Be careful, the manager…”

***

Scarlett pushed the door open and went in with one hand holding up a tray with two bottles of wine placed on it. It looked like the room had not warmed up yet. All the princesses were just sitting there on the couch; they were restrained.

As Scarlett popped up at the door, she caught the attention of the man who was seated in the center of the lounge. “Well, well, well, how could they be so foolish to ask such a beauty like you to only sell the wine? What wine are you selling, babe? Come, come here and show me.”

There was suddenly a spotlight on Scarlett, and everyone turned around to look at her.

The man then stood up, walked to her in a few steps, and stood right in front of her.

And in such distance, Scarlett noticed that his dark blue business suit was limited. From this distance, Scarlet saw that his dark blue business suit was none other than limited edition Valentino. His leather shoes were classic Salvatore Ferragamo. He had probably even had them custom-fitted. Another rich asshole, Scarlett thought to herself.

“Little pretty, how about a few drinks with your Uncle Clarkson, eh? What do you think, babe?” Without even waiting for Scarlett to consent, he grabbed her hand and placed a glass of wine in it.

Everyone else in the room remained utterly silent and quietly watched what was going on without saying a word. They saw that Mr. Clarkson grabbed the girls' hand very tightly and refused to let go; no matter how the girl struggled to free herself, she stayed trapped.

Scarlett took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. In a second, a professional and polite smile reappeared on her face. “I’m so sorry to trouble you, sir. I didn’t mean to disturb you by barging in here like this. I owe you an apology.”

Scarlett raised the glass of wine to her lips and guzzled down the red liquid in a matter of seconds– by way of apology. She figured he would appreciate the playful gesture.

She was right. Her gesture, unfortunately, also managed to rekindle the old man’s interest and desire. His eyes became wild and his hands unscrupulous. He grabbed Scarlett’s hand again and touched it to his greasy face.

He was so disgusting that Scarlett was about to throw up. “I'm sorry, but I’ve still got work to do outside sir.” she smiled and struggled to get rid of the man’s hand.

The man didn’t give up and tried to tempt the girl with money, “Don’t resist, babe. Just listen to me. Aye, you listening to me? Just do what I say, and I promise you’ll go home tonight, rich.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but that’s not allowed. Please, sir, let me go. I don’t want to break the rules.”

The man grabbed her chin and threatened, “Are you really gonna ruin my party like this, you little bitch?” Summoning all of her strength, Scarlett managed to free herself from the man’s tight grip.

Mr. Clarkson grew even angrier. “You better fucking drink, bitch. You better fucking drink all this wine, or I won’t let you walk out of this room.”

As soon as he finished his words, the manager came in time and tried to ease the situation, “We are so sorry, Mr. Clarkson. This girl is just a newbie here and is still ignorant and reckless. It’s my fault; I should never have sent this one to you. Please, I beg you, have mercy on her. You would be very kind to forgive her– just this one time. Well, how about a 50% discount for today’s wine as an apology?”

Mr. Clarkson glanced at her, “You think I can’t afford this shit?”

The manager began sweating profusely and apologized repeatedly. She hinted at Scarlett to do something. Scarlett didn’t want to ruin her own good mood and also believed that this might be her last day at Mystic Night Garden.

She turned to Mr. Clarkson and apologized with a smile, “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble, Mr. Clarkson. I don’t mind drinking wine if that’s what you would like for me to do. This is the best wine out there, though– it’s a waste for a girl like me to drink it up. I’ll drink one bottle up and leave another for your later party. How ‘bout that? Does that sound good?”

Mr. Clarkson snorted to show his consent. Scarlett immediately picked the bottle up and knocked back the contents of it. Mr. Clarkson looked at her, drinking the wine. Some of it dripped onto her chest, and Mr. Clarkson smiled in satisfaction at the sight of it.

Everyone sitting in the room was amazed by her drinking capacity– only Scarlett knew this was nothing for her. It was a cakewalk, drinking all that wine in one long swig.

Within minutes, she finished the wine and showed Mr. Clarkson the empty bottle. “Enjoy your time, Mr. Clarkson. My apologies for causing you trouble earlier; I do hope you have a pleasant stay here.”

Scarlett felt a little dizzy from drinking all the wine and couldn’t stand up straight. The manager immediately grabbed onto Scarlett, seeing her grow nauseous, and said to Mr. Clarkson, “Mr. Clarkson, if you would permit me to, I think I’m going to take Scarlett to the lounge upstairs, so she can rest a bit.”

Scarlett noticed that Mr. Clarkson acquiesced to the manager’s request with a flirtatious, almost foxy kind of smirk. She sensed that something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what it was exactly.

Her nausea got worse and worse, and she felt overwhelmed. How strange, she thought, I’m usually good at holding my liquor. “Wait… something’s wrong… that wine… there was something else in it… I’ve been drugged!” Scarlett murmured. She was too dizzy to say or do anything. She had been incapacitated.

The manager held Scarlett’s left arm and took her out of Mr. Clarkson’s room. She said to Scarlett, “Listen, you don’t have to work tonight. Why don’t you just head upstairs and get some rest?”

Scarlett leaned against the cold wall and asked, “Ma’am, can I just go back home?”

“Go back home? Right now? It’s too late, babe, and you’re drunk. I’d worry too much about you if I let you go home alone right now. Just go upstairs and rest up, yeah?” The manager said.

Scarlett pulled out her cell phone and tried to call Sir Fond up. Before she could dial all the numbers, her manager snatched her phone away and said, “Hey hey, let me call your family up for you.” Annoyed by the way Scarlett was acting out, the manager pinched her waist, venting her anger and frustration.

Scarlett was hurt, and her head was spinning. She felt sure that the wine had been spiked with some drugs. Her manager, also, was acting very strange. Her words and behavior made the situation all the more complicated. She came to realize that this must have been a conspiracy right from the start. Her manager must be in cahoots with the so-called Mr. Clarkson. They must have ganged up with each other, planned to drug her, kidnapped her, and turned her into a sex slave.

Realizing this terrible fact, Scarlett bit her tongue to keep herself sober even though it was really getting more complicated as time passed by. The manager pushed her into the elevator and took her to the 10th floor.

When the door of the elevator opened, Scarlett was pulled out by the manager and dragged toward a room. She gritted her teeth, using all her strength to struggle against the manager. Even though the manager tried hard to pull her into the room, she failed.

“Son of a bitch!” The manager cursed. She took her phone out and called her two bodyguards to come.

The manager grabbed Scarlett’s ear and said, “Mr. Clarkson is a very wealthy man, and you should feel blessed that he wants anything to do with you. Who the fuck do you think you are? Stupid bitch.”

Not long after, two huge, muscular men came, waiting for the manager’s order. “Drag her into the room. Now. Go!”

Scarlett was so scared that she grabbed onto the heavy potted plant on the floor. She held it desperately and didn’t let go. But she was a tiny girl. How could she hope to resist two strong men? They picked her up effortlessly as if she were as light as a feather.

The manager tidied her collar and looked at Scarlett. She had been doing this work for years, finding young girls for wealthy patrons looking for some fun. She had gotten used to these things. This was her job, after all. “Don't blame me for this. Serve Mr. Clarkson well, and you will have your good days too.”

Just as the manager was about to leave the room, Scarlett heard the sound of footsteps treading on the carpet that ran along the corridor. The footsteps were soft, but they were firm.

It was none other than Mr. Sandler. The manager's face turned pale. She greeted the man heading towards her with a smile, “Is everything okay, sir? May I help you with anything? Here at Mystic Night Garden, we are always at your service.”

Scarlett was still sober and heard the manager’s trembling voice.

Looking up at the person, she saw a tall and dignified figure standing there. He had an icy air about him– he meant business. Although Scarlett’s vision was blurry, and so she couldn’t see the man’s face very clearly, she could still sense that he had a dominant and magnetic presence. His aura was like that of a king– he stood as if he were perched at the top of some pyramid, looking down on his subjects.

Scarlett thought this man had scared the manager so bad that this might be the last straw.

She used whatever little strength she had to bite the wrist of one of the bodyguards. Shocked, he retracted his arm quickly. Scarlett took this moment to kick him in the groin. The bodyguard fell backward, and Scarlett was set free from his control. She rushed towards Mr. Sandler, falling right into his arms.

“Oh honey, you came here for me, right? It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left without leaving a message. I promise there won’t be the next time, okay? Honey, please just take me home, I’m tired of working here. Those guys are so bad.” Scarlett looked into Mr. Sandler’s eyes and hoped desperately that he would understand she was in grave trouble.