Go back to Evans' apartment

The long and cruel spectacle had ended. Lara, Chloe, Julia, and Sofia hurried to the dressing room to take off what remained of their exhibition outfits. Sofia’s silk, Julia’s gauzes, and Chloe’s torn latex were quickly discarded.

Luckily, May didn't have one of her twisted ideas about the girls' clothes for the ride home that night. The humiliation was limited to the aquarium arena. Relieved, they were able to put on their normal clothes: worn jeans, baggy sweatshirts, or simple dresses. Street clothes felt like armor, a layer of anonymity that the event had denied them.

Magi showered quickly in the management's private showers. The sensation of water on her naked skin felt strange after having spent hours exposed as a symbol. She put on her own clothes and left the aquarium through the service entrance, where the night was cold and silent, contrasting with the heat and noise of the party.

Arriving at her small apartment, silence enveloped her. She dropped her backpack and stood in the center of the living room, feeling the weight of the day. It was then that a thought slipped into her mind, sharp and piercing: she had to go visit Evans.

She hadn't gone to see him for days, buried in the preparations for Sofia's event and May's planning. But now, after the "taxi night," the dynamic had changed. Evans was no longer just the neighbor who paid for cleaning; he was the man who had opened the door when she was naked and terrified. The man who had seen her at her lowest point and picked her up. That debt weighed more than any contract.

Quickly, she took off her street clothes and dressed in the same thing as the last time: only the short, clean white apron that was her personal uniform of submission for him. She tied the fabric, verified she was carrying nothing but her keys, and left the apartment wrapped in a long coat to cross the hallway, feeling like she was walking toward a sentence.

The door to Evans' apartment gave way with its familiar creak. Magi slipped inside, closing it behind her.

The studio was dimly lit, smelling of turpentine and oil. Evans had his back turned, facing a canvas. He didn't turn when he heard her.

"I thought you had forgotten the address," he said, his voice rough and charged with tension.

Magi advanced toward the center of the studio. The short white apron barely gave her security against the implicit judgment of his back.

"I've been... busy," she murmured.

Evans finally turned. His eyes, behind thick glasses, shone with a mixture of anger and possession. He looked her up and down, stopping at her submissive posture.

"Busy," he repeated with disdain. "Busy looking for other taxis at midnight?"

Magi froze. The blow was low and precise.

Evans approached slowly, wiping his paint-stained hands with a rag, invading her personal space until she could smell the turpentine on him.

"It seems you have a short memory, Magi. Did you already forget who picked you up off the sidewalk when you were little more than an animal shivering with cold?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Did you forget who gave you shelter, coffee, and a safe bed when the world had spat you out?"

"No... I haven't forgotten," she whispered, lowering her head.

"Good," he said, lifting Magi's chin with a cold finger to **** her to look at him. "Because that night wasn't charity. It was an investment. I saved you from the garbage, Magi. And what is rescued from the garbage belongs to whoever finds it."

He released her with a brusque gesture, as if the contact bothered him, and returned to his easel.

"Now, pay your share. The dust has gained ground while you were playing at being important at the aquarium. Start with the shelves. Use the ostrich feather duster."

Magi obeyed instantly, the reminder of her debt burning in her chest. She took the duster and began to clean mechanically. Evans had saved her, yes, but only to ensure that no one else could break his toy before he did.

While she cleaned a high shelf, stretching so that the apron barely covered her, Evans spoke again, his tone now falsely casual, but with the edge of a razor.

"All this is too much for one person. This mess... I could use extra help." He paused, painting a stroke on the canvas. "I want you to get me someone. A friend, perhaps. Someone like the new girl everyone is talking about... that Sofia."

Magi stopped dead.

"I'm leaving her to you," continued Evans, without looking at her, knowing he had total control. "It is your responsibility to bring her. Consider it a down payment for the safety I provided you. The more hands, the faster the cleaning."

Magi squeezed the handle of the duster. She had survived the taxi thanks to him, and now he was using that salvation as currency to buy Sofia.

"Yes," she whispered, the word tasting like absolute betrayal. "I will bring her."

"Perfect," Evans concluded. "Now keep cleaning. And do it well. Remember that you can always go back to the street, but out there, there is no one waiting for you with a blanket. Only me."

Magi gripped the duster until her knuckles turned white. She had survived the aquarium. But here, in the apparent safety of Evans' studio, she had committed her own betrayal. She had accepted an assignment and put a name, a possibility, on the radar of another predator. And she knew, with a cold and familiar certainty, that today's cleaning had not removed any stain; it had only added a new, darker one to her own conscience.