#nbxm

When the bar closed, you ambled your way towards home, pausing halfway over the footbridge connecting the entertainment district to the residential districts to stare at the lights of the city.

Each and every time you had passed over the bridge lately, you could barely resist the urge to hoist yourself up over the guardrail and throw yourself in the canal below. That night was no different- you leaned against the railing, trying to talk yourself out of doing something hasty to end your despair.

You just needed to find a reason. Any little reason to convince yourself to make it home and try again tomorrow.

Idly searching your jacket pocket for your lighter, you feel the crinkle of the paper you shoved in there earlier. You pull it out a skim over the swimming letters.

My heart’s greatest desire, huh…?

Right… You’ll go home tonight, you reasoned, so that you can at least find out what this is all about. 

One more night.

You step back off the edge of the bridge, instead dragging yourself towards the train station. You’ve already missed the last train of the night, though, so you’ll be lounging about the station until morning.

You were so crushingly lonely and starved for any bit of contact at that point, it didn’t matter who was by your side, as long as you wouldn’t be alone- anything to keep the shadows from creeping in.

…Even if you needed to pay for it…

So, you let the alcohol content still lingering in your bloodstream make the choice for you. 

Sitting on the concrete curb with your device cradled to your ear, and you finally dialed the number on that sketchy slip of paper. You managed to read the digits, despite the water causing the ink to bleed.

Instead of a living person on the other line, your call connected to a phone tree, where you went through pre-recorded prompts to schedule a date with the person of your dreams, the generated voice promises- for a somewhat hefty service fee, as you expected.

You hardly feel any sense of shame as the transaction goes through. If it means you’ll not feel so alone for just a little while, it’s gold well spent.

You woke up to the early morning sun with a start, knocking over some of the copious number of water bottles, assumingly placed around you by well-meaning pedestrians where you nodded off.

But you were at least still alive to take the train home, enter your neglected apartment, and finally crawl into your disheveled, still laid-out futon to sleep off your hangover.

That’s how you find yourself days later in the present, sitting in your ex-girlfriend’s favorite cafe. 

You're waiting to either be stood up, or worse, set up to be blackmailed or robbed. In your sober mind, the clearly scammy set up must've surely been just that, right?

The minutes creep by, the hope beginning to dwindle with them.

After camping your table for nearly an hour and feeling progressively more like a fool and fielding increasingly pitying looks from the servers (one of which offered you a free ice cream that you turned down), you’re almost at the brink of standing up and leaving. You sit there, resigned to having lost the money and any immediate chance in relieving your loneliness.

You can hardly believe it when she, of all people, comes through the door of the cafe.

Mai.

…It's really her.

You fight the urge to jump out of your chair and embrace her.

You had assumed it was either a joke or some sort of scam or an ad for other questionable business. But seeing what the paper promised, here in the flesh …You can barely believe your eyes.

“Sorry! Sorry I’m late!” Your ex-girlfriend seemingly says to you as she hurriedly approaches the table.

This must be some sort of joke…? It has to be.

“...Hi?”

“Hi. Sorry.” She dips her upper body forward a few times in quick succession in apology.

The resemblance is uncanny. Every little detail your eyes take in matches something you’d expect from Mai’s appearance. All of it’s the same as you remember: Her soft eyes, permanent semi-pout and long dark waves; her gentle mannerisms, sweet voice and style of speech; even her stylish choice in fashion, right down to the pastel color of her nail polish being coordinated to her outfit.

“You fell asleep on the train again, huh?” You reflexively answer in a playfully scolding tone, playing along despite still being completely dumbstruck that she’s actually standing here. Her being late for various air-headed reasons was something that happened enough over the course of your relationship to become one of her adorable quirks- this wouldn’t be the first time she spaced out and took an unintentional nap on the train.

“A-Ah, um.” She gives you a sheepish look before staring at the ground, seemingly caught red-handed. She favors one of the locks of her loosely hanging hair. “That’s right. I'm happy you waited for me. I would've been devastated if I ruined our date.”

It’s like your desperate prayers have been answered, and she’s come back to you, just like that- out of nowhere. You could cry out of pure gratitude.

But a small part of you is deeply alarmed. The prompts never had you describe anything about Mai, or your ideal partner otherwise- yet here is quite literally, your heart’s greatest desire.

You decide that you don’t care if this is a joke or some sort of scam. You can be taken for a ride, for all you care- what you care about is that she’s back.

“That’s okay. You’re here now.” You motion to the chair across from you, and she takes the seat across from you.

She picks up the colorful menu with a gleeful smile. 

“Go ahead, Mai-chan. Get anything you want.”

“Anything?” She brings an open hand to her mouth to cover the gasp. “Hmm. Pudding… Waffle… Parfait…!”

You watch her mull over the menu with a strange sense of deja vu. 

Your food eventually comes, delivered by a waitress who seems equal parts relieved and surprised that someone actually showed up to join you. She sets down a small, extremely meticulously decorated parfait. It’s piled with thinly sliced, colorful fruits, some cut to look like animal faces. There’s a sweet message inscribed in chocolate syrup on the plate the clear glass sits on. Mai all but vibrates out of her chair in excitement as she scoops up her first bite. Then she pops into her mouth, only to bring a hand to her cheek in surprise a moment later.

“It’s so good!”

“Is it?” You chuckle as you take a sip from your cafe au lait.

“Here, see for yourself!” She laughs sweetly, picking one of the chocolate covered biscuit sticks lodged inside the body of the dessert and holding it out to you. “Say ‘ah’-”

Any concern you still harbor is obliterated by the adorable gesture, and you happily take the bite of the treat.

You take Mai on a stroll window shopping through the rest of the mall, ensuring her that she can get anything that catches her eye. She seems hesitant to pick anything out now, despite it never being much of a deterrent before. You mean it when you say she can have anything she’d like- you couldn’t care less if you blow your whole salary on frivolous things and have to subsist off of convenience store meals for the rest of the month. You’re so thankful to have her back, and you want to show it in the way you’re used to Mai appreciating. 

It takes until she lays her eyes on a soft and pathetically droopy looking stuffed fox, partially buried in a pile of other stuffed animals that her resistance finally breaks.

“Ah!! So cute!!! This!! I want this!” She gasps, picks up the pitiful looking stuffed creature you’ve ever laid eyes on. She holds it under the arms to show you, but its doe-y, wall-eyed stare does not quite reach your eyeline. Then she remembers to add; “Um- Please?”

After the shop, you find yourself pausing on the footbridge like normal, but this time with Mai at your side, her with a stuffed fox under her arm. You hold her around the waist, looking at the lights across the river and soaking in the romantic aura.

Things have gone on like that for several blissful months now. Whether it’s relaxing cafe dates and shopping, or dancing and drinks, or something else entirely; you see her as often as you can make it happen.

Every time you’re feeling down, you think of Mai being back in your life and it’s as if all the darkness has been cleansed from your soul. 

You have something to live for again. A glimpse of a happy future to hold onto again.

All you have to do is call and schedule a date, pay the frankly exorbitant fee, and you have her to yourself again for the entire evening.

…Although, you have noticed a few incongruent things over time. 

Small things, really, here and there. A sharpness in her eyes you sometimes catch when she wasn’t expecting you to look, before the corners soften again. A laugh that starts almost like a bark, before her normal, muted laugh plays out behind her dainty hand. A questioning, performative aura to her speech at times- as if she’s deducing the correct thing to say to comply with your pre-existing expectations.

You never see her leave in the morning- instead, she’s always gone by the time you wake up, no matter how early you rise.

Most worryingly, you wake feeling inexplicably exhausted every time afterwards- not just the usual and expected, happily spent feeling that’s normal from rolling around in the sheets, but a bone-deep fatigue, like part of your constitution itself has been sapped away.

Thinking about it too hard sends a cold shiver down your spine. You’re not a stupid man, even when being driven to make bad decisions by your desperation. Even knowing that something is amiss here, you can’t stop yourself from dialing the number again and again, your physical wellbeing be damned.

Because despite all the glaring warnings, some of the incongruencies are positive ones.

While this Mai is true to character in almost all ways, there are certainly some things you’d call an improvement.

This Mai is much more warm and loving, and seems more willing to communicate in general, rather than expecting you to guess. And when it comes to sex, this Mai is a lot more enthusiastic over all, and certainly more… skilled.

And overall, she's just more kind. Too kind, even. Too selfless to be your ex-girlfriend, who had an acute awareness of her own wants and needs, sometimes to the detriment of others’. This Mai seems to be very focused on yours. 

You never realized it before now, but obligation seems to have played a large part of your relationship with Mai. And while you’re absolutely sure some of that is your fault, you’ve never felt closer to her… or this version of her, you suppose. You can’t help but feel the irony in that it only seems to have happened with a copy of her, rather than the real thing. Somehow this copy’s performance feels more genuine to you than the real Mai’s had, without you even noticing.

One thing’s for sure; It can’t go on like this forever, even if you want it to. But you know it’ll bother you now that you’ve caught on, if you don’t at least try to confirm your suspicions.

While trying to plan out what to do, a brilliant idea dawns on you, and you dial up the number once again.

Within a few days, you meet ‘Mai’ once again, this time outside a highly recommended karaoke parlor near your usual stomping grounds in the entertainment district.

She bounces excitedly by your side as you make your way through the building and file into the small, private, soundproof room decked out with a large screen and extensive sound system.

You go first, and belt out a moody rock ballad with modest skill, no stranger to visiting karaoke parlors with colleagues and clients alike, when the circumstances call for it.

Your companion cheers you on as the final chords wind down.

“Aaah, Wow!!” ‘Mai’ claps her hands together in front of herself and exclaims your name. “You're so talented!! With a voice like that, you could've been a holo-idol!”

“Hahah- Thanks.” You laugh sheepishly, and your face breaks into a knowing smile. “You're going to take a turn now, aren't you, Mai-chan? You know I really like your singing voice.”

You hold the microphone out to her in expectation, slight feedback whirring through the speakers. You feel a little bit of remorse for what you’re doing, but it’s the only way you could think of.

There’s a incredibly short moment of recalibration where she simply stares at the microphone, but then her eyes light up.

“Oh, of course!” She says excitedly, flipping her hair over her shoulder before taking the microphone and getting to her feet. She pauses to smooth her skirt down, then her heels click as she approaches the podium. “Oooo, but what song should I choose?”

“You have no shortage of options here. Go with you heart.” You press a soft kiss to the crown of her head and then take a sip of the whiskey in your hand nonchalantly.

“Mmm… No, I can't decide! You pick for me.” She demands and holds the datapad to you over her shoulder, lips curling at the edges in a barely concealed grin. She looks downright eerie, backlit by the bright neon lights of the screen behind her, bright crescent shapes on the round of her cheekbones.

“Huh. How about this one?” Still feeling slightly guilty, you scroll down and select the most challenging song you can think of for a beginner. “You remember it’s my favorite, eh?”

“Of course I remember!” She says confidently as you go back to your seat. “Here I go!”

The upbeat, funky music picks up and she launches into the song enthusiastically. It doesn’t even take a full verse for you to know your hunch about her is undeniably correct.

This isn’t Mai at all. There’s simply no way.

She has a beautiful voice and a surprising range for such a petite woman. Neither the fast or slow parts give her any hint of trouble, nor the tricky lyrics. She handles every vocal run without faltering once.

Her slender fingers clutch the microphone, and she gets fully swept away. It's hard not to get absorbed in the music yourself and forget why you're here.

What really mesmerizes you is just how passionately she’s singing, her body swaying in time to the beat. She looks actually happy- something you’ve realized you didn’t see a lot from the real Mai- only placated, slightly bored contentment.

The song comes to an end all too quickly, and you applaud, genuinely a bit moved.

“Hehe- How did I do?” She squirms in glee, before rushing back to hand you the microphone. The neon light glints off the bracelet you gave her on one of your previous dates that she’s wearing tonight.

“Amazing.”

She beams at you, twisting the knife in your gut a little more.

You don’t want to spook her by ending the session before the time you’ve already paid for runs out, so you simply enjoy it while you can, taking a few turns passing the microphone back and forth.

Finally, the block of time runs out and you walk out of the karaoke parlor into the busy square with your hand in hers. You’re more sure than ever you have to say something, now, after that performance.

You find a gap in the throngs of people near the bridge to stop for a moment and discuss. It may not be the most polite place to make an accusation like this, but at least it’s public and relatively safe.

Twinkling lights of the businesses on either side provide an almost ethereal, twilight backdrop for such a strange conversation.

“Wait. I’d like to talk about something, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah- Is something the matter?” Her body language is suddenly closed, and she adjusts her bangs nervously.

“Sort of. …You don’t seem to be yourself, lately.” You say, trying to sound as least threatening as possible. 

“Oh! I’m feeling okay. But thank you for your concern.” ‘Mai’ forces a small smile.

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet. 

“What I mean is- I think that may be because you’re not yourself.”

“W-What? I don’t know what on Hearth you’re talking about.” She switches to feigning ignorance, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to distract with her cuteness, then deflection. “That’s nonsense. I am me. Are you feeling okay, honey?”

“I‘m fine. But is that really so? Then what about karaoke just now?”

“Eeeh? What are you saying?” The woman protests with a pout, looking absolutely deflated. “I thought we had fun. Did you dislike my singing that much? I tried my best…”

“No, I liked it a lot. Your singing was beautiful; You have a very nice voice.” You try to keep your tone from sounding too accusatory. “But Mai doesn’t. She loathes karaoke. Can’t carry a tune to save her life. Absolutely tone deaf- she always refused to even go with me.”

“...Yes and because you like it so much, I… I-Is it so out of the realm of possibility that I’ve been practicing…?” She quickly comes back with an excuse, but it doesn’t sound like she even believes her own words.

You simply cross your arms and wait for her to say something, holding your scrutinizing gaze on her. The silence drags on an almost unbearable length of time.

“...You tricked me.” She quietly fumes, restraining the strength of her reaction so as to not cause an upset in public. Her lips form a glossy, tautly drawn line, and her fingernails dig into the strap of her purse like sharp claws.

“I tricked you?” The irony of the statement is extremely rich, coming from the body double standing in front of you. 

“You called the number!” The imposter whines, and rubs at her eye, sounding on the verge of breaking into tears at any moment. Despite the attempt to not make a scene, the occasional person slows to spectate. “We were having fun and you tricked me. That’s not fair.”

Even this spat is so different. If it was Mai, she would’ve already started reeling off on you for upsetting her, glances from others be damned.

But this is more sad and pitiful than anything. It’s not really fury or scorn in her expression, though, rather than a deep wounded mournfulness. And the more you look, the more you see an expression you never really saw in the real Mai much; pure, raw fear. The signs are clear to you- her body language like she’s ready to flee at any moment, and the shifting eyes of a wild animal looking for an escape route.

“Listen-” You can't help yourself, how distraught she seems pulling at your heartstrings, and reach your hand out to comfort her. You have no bad intentions, even with this revelation, after all. If anything, you’re relieved that the distinction between this person and Mai has been drawn. Maybe now, you can get to know this person even better, without the facade…

Just as your hand connects with her wrist, a dog starts barking loudly nearby, somewhere across the plaza, and a stranger unknowingly bumps into her back while passing by. The chaos causes her to be majorly spooked, letting out a yelp and nearly jumping out of her skin.

It happens so fast- one second ‘Mai’ is standing in front of you as normal. And the next, there’s a clattering sound and something falls before wobbling against the concrete. The figure standing in front of you looks almost translucent, with a canine nature to the shadowy silhouette of their head and shoulders, complete with pointed ears poking up.

‘Mai’ drops to her hands and knees immediately, into a pool of fabric, scrambling frantically to scoop the object- a smooth, pearly white mask carved with blue lines- up and bring it back to her face. She manages to get her trembling fingers around the item and replace it.

But something’s… wrong.

Instead of Mai’s features returning to the stranger’s face, the parts of this person’s face seem to rapidly cycle through bits and pieces of multiple individual faces, combined in a grotesque mishmash- an eyebrow changing here, a new set of lips there- like flipping in a panic through broadcast channels fraught with static, desperately trying to match the right ones into a coherent set.

You reach out again- this time bending to try to help her up, but it seems your attempts at aid are only being perceived as a threat. Instead of taking your hand for support, she freezes in place.

Only for a moment, mismatched eyes turned up at you.

Then, she disappears completely into a sparkling puff of dark magenta and violet colored smoke.

The mask falls to the ground, clattering and spinning all over again.

You cough and cover your face with your sleeve- but manage to spot the form of a small, orange animal dashing off through the legs of the throng of people coming and going, despite your tearing eyes. They’re headed away from the bridge, back into the entertainment district. You keep your eyes on the bushy tail underfoot for a while, but there just isn’t enough room for you to push through as you hit a more congested area. You quickly lose track of the form in the crowd that has gathered.

You search and try to regain the trail, but eventually give up, walk back to where the mask dropped, and pick it up. Its surface seems to be made of some sort of nacre, the way that it shines as you turn it over in your hands. It feels cool and inexplicably wet to the touch, despite it not getting your hands wet. There’s a singular, shining blue jewel inlaid into the forehead.

You decide to take the mask home with you before someone calls the guard, or worse, a suit from the mana bureau shows up to investigate.

By the time you get through the door to your apartment, you’re devastated. You lean against your closed apartment door, running your hand through your hair. Does this mean you won’t see her any more? Perhaps you were too harsh, trapping her like that, but you only wanted to know the different person underneath the mask she was showing you.

There has to be something you can do. 

You set the mask down on your foyer table gently, then you pull up your device, planning to call the number for the phone tree. It’s the only number you have for ‘Mai’- but the contact has mysteriously disappeared from the frequently called list in your device. You briefly chide yourself for never actually saving the number.

But it’s no matter- you’ve certainly memorized the number by now, so you punch it manually- only for the sound of a disconnected line to come back on the other end.

Panicking, you go to find the slip of paper you kept for sentimental reasons to double check you had the right number, only to find a dry, crumpled leaf in your desk drawer in its place.

“Damn it!” You swear and toss the leaf aside, unsure what you can even do at this point.

You sit in silence, hoping she’ll show up on her own, at least to come get her mask back, and then you can apologize and plead your case. But, you wait for days and she never shows up.

You check Mai's social media, but that only confirms to you that she and the person you came to know are completely different people. You kick yourself for not checking that earlier.

It takes a week of alternately wallowing in your feelings and researching in your free time, but you finally manage to contact a private investigator that doesn’t write your request off as deranged. His fee is equally deranged, so you suppose you’re in good company.

Then, it takes months of emotional turmoil on your end just waiting for news.

Just when you’re sure that the investigator just ran off with your gold, he finally gets back to you with a new number and the name of the business associated with the previous number- Club DREAM, a host club in the entertainment district that you’ve somehow never heard of, even with your years of familiarity with the nightlife in this city.

With a shaking hand, you dial the number.

It’s the same phone tree. You heave a massive sigh of relief. You’re one step closer.

You spend at least an hour on hold, but you weed your way through the numerous pre-recorded menus, but eventually get redirected to the business’ actual, live phone line. 

…It’s ringing.

“Club DREAM.” A boisterous, high-pitched voice of an older man crackles on the other end, distinctly curt for business etiquette. “What the hell do you want? Phone tree not good enough for you, buddy???”

“I- Um.” You swallow. You work with people all day and think you’re quite skilled at social interactions, but you can’t help but feel cowed by the killing intent through the phone. “Well…”

“Spit it out, will you?! I’m trying to watch my proo-oograms!” They bellow dramatically.

“I think I’m looking for one of your… employees? I think I have something that belongs to them. But I’m not sure…”

The man simply spits out an address and summarily hangs up.

You follow the directions on your device screen to a less than reputable, slightly seedy part of the entertainment district. 

Despite knowing the entertainment district like the back of your hand at this point, you've never known this place was over here.

You finally arrive at a cramped, ominous-looking, slightly run down building. The only entrance is from the back alley, which you have to imagine does not have a good effect on business. You would be concerned you were in the wrong place, but the buzzing neon sign above the door clearly sears CLUB DREAM onto the night.

The rickety front door rattles behind you as you enter. You're immediately assaulted by the sound of droning dance/pop hits, and a hanging haze of smoke.

Despite that, the interior is much more impressive than the outside, with modern furniture and tasteful decoration. Though, there is still a personal, almost lived-in, cozy touch of worn paint edges and the occasional burnt out bulb- slight imperfections caused by frequency of use.

There doesn't seem to be a host podium, so you head to the bar that seems to function as one.

The bar is backlit by an assortment of ghostly flames, dancing in metal-caged lanterns. They cast a soft, eerie glow that mingles with the artificial flood of the neon lights.

Curious…

It’s hard to pay too much attention to the wall of spirit lanterns, however, since the person standing in front of it behind the bar is impossible to miss. They’re imposingly tall and quite a bit round for the average city elf, clad in a jarring mix of loud colors and wild patterns, complete with a bright pink faux-fur stole sitting on their shoulders, and spectacles with long strands of beads hanging down.

“Ohhh, it’s a shame I’m retired, honey. You’re a handsome one.” The flamboyantly-berobed man coos at you in welcome, pulling their eyes from the screen perched above the bar. “Someone specific in mind you’re here to see today? Or perhaps you’re a first-timer- I haven’t seen your face before, I’m sure of it. I’d remember such a cutie.”

This is definitely the same person you spoke to on the call. Their voice is recognizable despite having a completely different vibe now; more warm and welcoming geniality, less blatant desire to murder you.

“I have M-” You stop, then correct yourself, if a bit cryptically; “...I have the mask.”

You pull the shiny mask partially out of your bag to show them, before letting it slip back down onto the pocket.

“Oh, it’s YOU.” The towering man gives a deadly, icy look over the flapping of the fan they’re cooling themselves with, and you swear you can feel the room get a few degrees colder. The less-than-friendly inflection from before is bad in full force, much more intimidating in person. “The dirtbag that stole my baby’s mask.”

Dirtbag? Stole? …Baby? 

“Er…”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn't call our bouncer over to pound you flat, you thief!”

“Well… I brought it back. And it wasn’t exactly easy…”

“Hmmph.” They snap their fan closed and shove it into their obi before thrusting out a manicured hand, palm up. “Well? What are you waiting for? Hand it over, then, honey.”

“I'd rather give it back to… them… directly.” You're hesitant to give the mask back to anyone but the correct person. “I… want to talk to them. Make sure they're alright.”

“Cute!! How sweet!! But I’ll be taking it, thanks!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give this away to just anyone. I need to make sure it gets back to them.” You stand your ground and the grip on your bag’s strap tightens, not letting the mask out of your grasp quite yet.

The club owner gives you a long, scrutinizing look over, as if they're having a heated internal debate and you aren't privy to the details.

“Hhmmph. Well aren't you chivalrous. Fine! Suit yourself- But you can’t see them without their mask. It's not allowed!!”

Before you can form a coherent response, they keep talking, steamrolling the conversation. 

“HOWEVER, you do seem to be the genuine sort. So. Here is how this is going to work, sweetie: I’m going to escort you to table 6. You’re going to hand me their mask back, I’m going to take it back to them.” They rhythmically tap their lacquered nails on the counter with each point they lay out. ”THEN, if they WANT to see you, I’ll send them out to you. But only if THEY want to. If not, I'm sure there’s someone on staff that will suit your fancy. You are still a precious customer, after all!”

You don’t want anyone else, is the first thought that nearly jumps out of your mouth, but you manage to hold it in, instead agreeing diplomatically. You worry momentarily that you’re about to be set up to be beaten to a pulp by ‘security’ and thrown into a dumpster out back, but if this is the only way to see the person of your dreams again, you’re just going to have to go with it.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, you are not put directly into a meat grinder, but instead actually led by the club owner to table 6. You take a seat, then pull the mask back out of your bag with a sigh. The club owner snaps it up immediately and rushes off, neon fabric fluttering in their wake.

“Aaah, thank youuuu~ I’ll be back soon, honey. Or maybe I won’t- we’ll have to see!”

The wait can’t be that long in reality, but it is absolutely excruciating from your perspective. You fiddle with the edges of the drink menu, not even really looking at it, shift in your seat- any small fidgeting to try to assuage your crushing dread.

You only have to stew in your own misery and self-doubt for a short while before the club owner stops back at the table.

“He said he'll see you. But you better make it right. If you hurt my baby again, I’ll hurt you.” He impatiently takes your drink order (bullying you into buying one of the more expensive bottles on the menu), then the loud, bright blur of a man disappears, just as quickly as he returned.

Not long after that, a different person arrives at your table. A tall, lithe and handsome elven man with flawlessly smooth skin and dyed-orange hair styled into a shaggy wolf cut stands there, with the overpriced bottle of liquor the club owner managed to persuade you to purchase in hand. He’s dressed in an obnoxiously ornate version of a standard dressed-down business look; button up, black vest, slacks, pointed ankle boots. The whole outfit is adorned with strategically placed, shiny details and jewelry.

“Hello,” He dips his long body forward in deference, and you catch a pleasant whiff of heady cologne. “Welcome to Club DREAM.”

You don't need to be told- you know exactly who this is. It doesn’t matter that they don’t look or sound a thing like Mai. You can feel it with every fiber of your being- like a hand reaching straight into your chest and seizing you by the heart.

“It's you.”

“Aah- it’s that easy to tell…?” He smiles bashfully, eyes squeezing closed into crescents. “Maybe I should work harder on my presentation.”

“No, I just…” You can’t even begin to explain why you were able to identify them on sight, even without the context clues. “It’s because it’s you- I think I could point you out anywhere, now.”

“Ah.” He fidgets slightly, looking unfittingly awkward with his flushed cheeks, in stark contrast of what seems to be an otherwise carefully composed image. You get the feeling he’s usually as effortlessly smooth as the cultivated image itself, when dealing with customers that aren’t you.

Muscle memory seems to kick in, finally, and they gesture to the table, then the bottle of liquor they’re holding. “Would you like me to join you?”

“Please.” You reply, probably a bit too eagerly.

He takes a seat and you sit in silence for a few moments. The only sound besides the onslaught of slightly-fried pop music playing over the speakers and low thrum of mixed conversations around you is the alcohol being poured into your glass by the obnoxiously handsome man in front of you. Your plan to pathetically grovel for forgiveness as soon as you had their ear has been eroded by just how happy you are to see them. You could sit here for hours, taking in every new small detail of their appearance and committing it to memory.

“Thank you for returning my mask.” He finally says, mercifully breaking the stalemate.

“You’re welcome. I apologize for putting you in the situation to lose it.” Then, thinking of what sort of boss he seems to have, add; “I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble with, er, your work.”

“No, Mama has been quite understanding… Though, it must’ve been a pain to return it. it couldn't have been easy to find this place.”

“It was no problem at all, if it meant I could see you again.”

“You wanted to see me that badly…?” He almost seems bashful.

“Yes! I was so worried about you, M-” You catch yourself, not wanting to call him the incorrect name out of habit. “Wait, wait, first of all- What is your name? You must have one of your own…?”

“You can call me Kanae.”

In a bold move, you choose to forgo any honorific- but you truly feel that close to him, and wish to convey that.

“Kanae.” You repeat his name to him, and his already friendly, if a bit worried, expression brightens instantly. “I've missed you.”

“I missed you too. I've been so lonely without you.”

The words alone make your heart start racing. It wasn't just you lamenting being apart, then.

“If that's the case, may I sit beside you?”

“Yes, of course.”

He comes around and slides into the padded booth next to you. He’s barely settled in when he lays a hand on your thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed against your side.

You’re so pleased, you’re pretty sure you could explode. Your soul is going to leave your body.

You nurse the drink in your glass, contemplating in silence trying to calm some of your nerves. And to try to push the sensation of his fingers resting on you out of your mind long enough to articulate a sentence.

“So, this is where you… work?”

“You could say that, yes. As you may have guessed, I am not a mortal. I am a kitsune.” 

“Do spirits usually work in host clubs?”

“They do when their pact holder is a host club owner, ehehe.”

It makes a lot of sense, you suppose. 

“...I suppose I’m wondering how any of this works… How did you know to look like Mai?”

You’re a simple numan, lacking in any tangible magic ability. While this sort of thing doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility, it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it, without the relevant experience with the arcane.

“When someone calls the number, Mama uses divination magic to determine who the person most wants to see. Then I, or one of his other familiars, assume the form of said person, and feed off of all the positive energy radiating from the client during the appointment. I can use that energy to assist Mama better in their other magic work.”

Ah, well. That certainly explains some things.“ You had your suspicions around how you felt so deeply fatigued after each date with ‘Mai’, and it’s a relief to have them confirmed. “But why do all of this? Couldn’t you just feed off on energy without going through so much trouble?”

“I could… but I think this way is better. Energy for me, gold for Mama’s business, and the customer is happy. I get what I want, Mama gets what he wants, the customers get what they want.” He elegantly fills your glass back up from the bottle with his free hand. “It’s a fair trade. And I always stop before there’s permanent damage- no one ever gets hurt.”

“What about the client’s feelings, though? Those must get hurt sometimes.”

“Oh?” Kanae tilts their head, seemingly confused by the prospect.

“Well, when they find out it’s not real. Doesn’t it hurt their feelings?”

“...Maybe…? I’ve never really thought about it. It's just fun, right? Either way, that doesn’t usually happen. Most people simply stop calling, for one reason or another… What you did was highly abnormal…”

You can still detect a bit of discomfort on his end with his last sentence, like you’re plucking on a raw nerve. His fingers tighten against the creases on your pants like claws, just slightly, before releasing the tension.

“I truly am sorry. I didn’t intend for it to turn out the way it did.” You let out a sigh. “I just wanted to see if you were… really her, I suppose.”

“It's true. I'm not her- I can never truly be her.” He says firmly, but with a bit of regret. “I'm sorry that I misled you.”

“There’s… no need to apologize, really.” You say, putting down the glass of liquor with a smile. “I'm actually quite glad.”

“Mmm?” Kanae tilts his head and reaches up tentatively, hand creeping up your shoulder, then the nape of your neck, before twining their slender fingers in your hair.

“I like you much better.”

“...Is that s-so?” He can’t keep his face from pulling into a smirk, his eyes blatantly on your mouth. “Hahah… I’m supposed to be the one doing the flattering here, you know…”

You've begun to lean in before you realize it, and the gentle hand touching the nape of your neck helps guide you into a soft kiss.

Spirits. His lips are just as soft as before, when you still thought you were kissing Mai.

You can’t even draw much of comparison to anyone you’ve kissed before, past that. He’s an exceptionally good kisser, with his affection for you clear in the way he savors your bottom lip. The desire is palpable in each graze of his teeth or swipe of his tongue.

The scent from before is much stronger now, with your face so close to him. It’s underneath the overlaying smoky, spiced smell of bar; there’s a more familiar scent, a musk almost like earth that’s just been rained on. You recognize it- it’s the same underlying note you sometimes detected under the strong floral of Mai’s favorite perfume, but had thought nothing of before.

You can’t stop.

You’re so enraptured, you barely even register that you’re kissing so deeply in plain view of anyone else in the establishment that happens to look this way. Not that anyone could probably even see what you’re doing, with the mood lighting in this place…

Kanae must not hate it, either; you can feel the sincerely desperate, hungry way his hands grope at your thigh. That’s certainly not the way someone that is just doing their job touches a client.

“I want to keep seeing you, Kanae.” You sneak the words out around trying not to gasp for air.  “Is that something that’s possible?”

“I’d like that too, hah-” You can hear the clear relief in his voice between the kisses he peppers onto your lips, your jaw, your neck. “I can’t bear the idea of never meeting again. Everyone else is so boring now. They’re not fun like you.”

You capture his lips in yours again, this time quickly losing track of time.

It’s several garbled music tracks later when Kanae pulls back with a laugh, the leather booth squeaking slightly with the sudden movement.

“Ah- I’m enjoying myself, but your time slot is almost up. And Mama hates when I go over time.” He smirks, pressing his fingertip to your bottom lip. “But… would you maybe like to come up to my room with me instead?”

You have never agreed to anything so readily in your entire life.

Kanae leads you to a narrow hallway, where behind a split curtain bearing the character for PRIVATE, there's a small set of creaky stairs. Despite the general shady look of the area he’s leading you through, when he opens a door at the end of the hall and shows you inside, you’re pleasantly surprised.

Despite the size and sparseness of the space, it’s very tidy and cozy; a strange mix of clinical and inviting. It looks almost as if someone had started to attempt to decorate a standard-issue hotel room, but didn’t quite know how to personalize it effectively. Clearly whomever decorated had an eye for design similar to that of a bird; most of the things are more here for their level of shine or sentiment, rather than objective monetary value.

Some things you certainly do recognize though. Every gift that you’ve given to Kanae while he was in Mai’s form is somewhere to be found in this room. The slightly out of place jewelry and perfume sitting on the small, faded wardrobe. Peaks of clothes that you recognize peeking out of the narrow, full-to-bursting closet. Even the pitiful little wall-eyed fox plush from your first ‘date’ is here, sitting propped against the oversized pillow atop the slightly unkempt bed. 

It warms your heart to see that he’s kept everything you’ve given him…

“This is your room, then? It’s quite cute.” You lose your shoes by the cramped entryway before entering the room proper.

“Thank you. Please make yourself comfortable. It’s not much, but Mama makes sure we all have our own space.”

You take a seat on the bed, as Kanae gestures for you to do. Then he climbs onto the bed after you, pushing you backwards by the shoulders with a laugh and a set of hungry, toothy kisses.

After making some minor positioning adjustments for both of your comfort, you’re fully sprawled out on top of his fluffy bedspread. Kanae is hovering over you, sitting on his tucked knees, flush to your side.

You grab the stuffed fox you’ve fallen back onto by the head like your hand’s a crane game claw- gently- and place it on the nearby nightstand, facing away. Or at least you think it is…

Kanae makes a noise of approval and his hands dexterously unbutton the front of your dress shirt, exposing your chest. He leans in to press his lips to the expanse of skin along the top of your pec, hands continuing to work down the buttons and wisps of styled orange hair tickling you.

“Ah-” 

After a bit of teasing, well-needed attention, he finally pulls up with a gasp, looking down at your flushed skin with a look of pride. 

“So, is this what you normally look like?” You ask, your curiosity starting to burn a hole in your tongue as badly as the heat suddenly burning up your face. Your hands are already running down his sides, getting dangerously close to the base of his spine. “I like it.”

“Yes and no. This is my favorite face, so to speak. Mama gave it to me when he retired, since he wasn’t using it anymore. His face is my face now.” He tilts his head, displaying his own beautiful features to you with a look of pride as he shrugs out of his vest and then starts to explore your chest with his hands. “Or at least the one that feels the most like my own. My true form looks much different than this.”

That’s the familiarly you’re seeing in his face, you realize. Your mind finally draws the connection between the features of the man in front of you and the bombastic club owner downstairs, though they’re much more youthful on Kanae.

You can't say you're not intrigued by the idea of what Kanae really looks like- something similar to that glimpse of shadow you saw when his mask fell off, you wager- but a more pressing question enters your mind first.

“Wouldn’t he mind you using his face for, uh… certain activities?”

“Oh- I don’t think he minds at all- He certainly doesn’t look like this now, after all, ehehe.” A faint, mischievous smile settles on his lips, and for a moment you swear you catch a glimpse of vulpine eye teeth. “I don’t mind. …Do you?”

His hands wanders to your waistband, waiting for a response.

“...N-No.” You can’t find it in you to feel shame about it- the difference in looks is wide enough for you to choose to simply delete that information from your mind forever.

He makes a noise of approval, then turns his attention to your still fastened slacks, making short work of your belt and zipper and making room to pull your dick out from your pants. His hand is squeezing you around the base testingly, soft but firm pressure, before he moves his fingers upwards in a few slow, drawn out strokes.

Then, abruptly and without any ceremony, he reaches over and thrusts his hand under the oversized pillow behind your head, hand re-emerging moments later with a small jar of viscous liquid.

You cock your head in surprise, though the sight isn’t something that surprises you for long. Of course Kanae keeps his lube underneath his pillow; that suits him perfectly.

Lukewarm slick dribbles onto your cock from the bottle, the continued loving movements of Kanae’s palm and fingers spreading it across the length of your shaft with soft, squelching noises.

Kanae watches the movements of his hand glide up and down your slippery cock with a diligent smile. His bright eyes flick up occasionally to monitor your expression.

“Nngh-” You wince, unable to keep the grunt of impatience from your chest. You’ve been waiting to feel his touch again for so long, and now that it’s happening, all you can think about is getting more.

Kanae laughs softly at your desperately eager state.

“Oh… Do you like this?” He asks in an innocent tone. You know he’s being coy, given the fact he’s already stroking you in your favorite way- clearly retaining the knowledge from the times he’s done this to you before as ‘Mai’.

“I think you know full well-” You huff, your whole body beginning to heat up.

You watch down your body, rapt as your eyes follow Kanae's hand enthusiastically servicing you. You've gone from excited and half-hard to rock solid and throbbing in his hand in no time.

“Mmm… Looks like someone is ready for more. This soon, even.” He sighs, thumb tip dragging the edge of your foreskin up and pressing into the well of accumulated precum on your slit. “It’s just so hard to be patient, isn't it…?”

“I've never been with a man like this,” You admit, slight hesitancy in your tone. While you've always found men attractive as well, you’ve been with Mai for most of your young adulthood, so you haven't had much opportunity to explore any of that. “So, please excuse my inexperience.”

“Mmh- Don’t worry, honey.” Kanae says in a reassuring, affectionate tone as he removes his pants and straddles you.“I’ll take care of everything.”

You can feel his hardness press against your thigh, and there’s a clear small patch of wetness on the front tail of the button-up he still wears. The sight makes you want to explode.

“Ah- Are you sure?” Despite how lovely the prospect sounds, you’re typically very invested in making sure you’re giving proper service to your partner, so the idea of just laying back and leaving all the work to Kanae makes you a bit uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Kanae says, eyes glinting mischievously. “I’ve already prepared myself.”

“That’s-” You’re only distracted by the way the thought makes your dick twitch by the seemingly impossible logistics. “Wait, when did you have time to do that?”

“Before I came to the table earlier.” Kanae says simply, smirking without a lick of guilt in their expression- instead oozing a perverse sort of pride. “I had the hope that since you showed up- you’d want to do this.”

The dumbstruck grin on your face turns into an open-mouthed groan as he lowers his prepped hole onto your cock. He grins your chest for balance and presses himself down eagerly, inching down your shaft faster than you'd expect; you expect he must know what he's doing.

Kanae lets out a long, dreamy sigh that changes into a faltering whimper as he reaches the root of your dick, flesh grinding against your pelvic bone.

“Aah- Amazing-” You choke out into the back of your hand, already slightly dazed by the tight, warm feeling of his body squeezing around you.

He starts out with a gentle rocking, but it doesn’t take long for him to lose his sense of restraint and build up to riding you with a forceful, reckless sense of urgency.

“Ah-h-” Kanae grimaces, his features flickering and threatening to change like they did before, when he had lost his mask. “S-Sorry- I don’t think I can k-keep this up- Nngh-”

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You lift your torso slightly, ready to help if he needs it.

“No- the opposite-” They pant sheepishly, obviously struggling hard to keep their form cohesively looking like his host persona. “Too good! Can't- focus-”

“Should we stop?”

“Don’t want to- but-”

“It's okay- Hah- Y-You can show me what you look like-” Your fingers dig into his thighs for emphasis. “You can trust me, Kanae-”

Kanae lets out a vulpine whimper in the last lingering bit of protest he has left in him, but doesn’t need more convincing than that to let the illusion drop.

The elven features melt away in waves, starting at the crown of his head, sloughing off his shoulders and dripping down his nimble fingertips. His skin loses its flesh color, changing instead to an almost ghostly partially translucent black color, like a light wash of ink. His body is still solid despite looking like a silhouette, but softer and malleable. You can feel your fingertips dig in ever so slightly more into his thigh than before.

And of course, his face becomes completely smooth, changing into a recognizable, simple mask with fox-like features painted onto its pearlescent surface.

“Aah-” Even Kanae’s voice has a slightly echoing, ethereal aspect to it now, and his shiny claws struggle to not tear into where he holds you down by shoulders. “Nnh-”

Despite Kanae’s initial protests, you are largely unfazed by the change. If anything, you’re even more enamored by the change. You can’t help yourself, thrusting upwards into the new, slippier sensation of Kanae’s partially incorporeal body. His body feels as oddly damp and slick as the surface of his mask.

His claws prick your skin as he pointedly grinds backwards a few times, any self-consciousness forgotten in his single-minded pursuit.

“Ggrr-ngh-” A growl tapers off in Kanae’s throat as his body goes completely rigid, his insides clench around you in a vice-grip and he keens, shooting his pleasure across your stomach.

It’s too much. You don’t have any hope of containing yourself any longer, and hold him firmly to you by his sides as you roll your hips upwards through the feeling of your orgasm. Your muscles contracting so hard you momentarily forget to breathe, warmth spreading out over where you’re still lodged inside of him.

Kanae lets himself sink forward onto your chest, energy completely depleted, with his arms tucked up and hands curled on your chest. You can see the brush tip of his tail twitching from your view down his back.

“Kanae, will you be mine?” You say as you finally regain enough breath to speak coherently. “I want to be with you.”

“Ahah- I-” The expression on the mask doesn’t change, but you can hear his voice waver in muted, but elated excitement. His tail whips behind him even faster. “I’d like that.”

You press a soft, affectionate kiss to the smooth, solid surface of his mask, feeling the coolness on your lips.

You may have lost a lot in the past year, but what you’ve managed to keep means so much more to you.