Chapter Text
The new girl wasn't doing well. Neither were you. That night had been especially rough—three different fights had broken out in different rooms. Even one of them was an Angel fight, and they rarely fought.
You had nothing to do with fights, though. You merely had to serve drinks and stand up. That new girl was about your age; however, her nervous system might not be ready for this job. Maybe nobody was at first. You didn't even know.
What were you even doing in a place like that? Let's recap. You'd gotten laid off from your job four months ago, and thanks to the over-saturated job market, you'd been unemployed for the first three months. In the end, you found yourself here—as a waitress in Vermilion. Maria, your housemate and longtime friend, had told you she could get you in until you found something else. Well, you hadn't had a choice—you had already run out of money before Maria offered that.
Maria had been working in Vermilion for years now. She'd started as a waitress, like you, but now, she was a manager. Still, she pulled shifts wherever she was needed—bartender, waitress, or even greeter. Vermilion might overwork you, but it did an excellent job of rewarding you with the paycheck for its staff.
"Hey," the new girl approached. "I think I'm going to throw up."
"What—why? You good?" You shouted over music, setting your tray on the bar.
"I don't know. This place is like hell. Because of the smoke, I guess. I need fresh air."
You looked at her; beneath the turbulent lights, her skin looked joyous and flourishing despite the strain in her voice.
"Go, then. I'll take care of it."
"Thank you," she muttered, handing her tray to you. "Pole room."
The music muffled when you closed the door, stepping to the 'back.' Normally, you had no business there—the back was for Angels and the designated waitresses. You were beneath that. You were literally nobody in Vermilion. And you were grateful for that; seeing clothed but bricked-up men fawn over naked Angels wasn't exactly your scene of choice.
Your eyes briefly caught Rue's. She blinked at you. You smiled softly before dropping your eyes back to the floor.
"Your champagne, sir," you murmured anyway, even though you knew he wasn't even aware of your presence at that particular moment.
You turned slightly to the side, keeping your eyes on the floor, and got out of the room. You stopped when you heard Maria’s voice in the hallway.
"Maria?"
"What are you doing here? You should be at—" She started but stopped in the middle of the sentence, eyes fixed on somewhere on your back.
"Sophia got sick. I was just doing—"
Her eyes got wider. "Блядь. Сукуна здесь," she muttered.
(Fuck… Sukuna is here.)
"What? Who?" You leaned in. "Are you all right?"
"Go."
"Go?"
You stared at her for a second to realize she was serious. You turned to leave—and bumped hard into someone's chest.
"Watch where you step," a hoarse voice rasped just above your head.
You recoiled a bit and looked up to see the face.
"Sorry about that, man," you blurted.
And immediately cringed. Man? Really? You wanted to sound natural, but it came out wrong. Perfect. He didn't seem like he'd cared about that anyway. Because he laughed. A sinister laugh, though he seemed amused.
"Man?" His eyes wandered over you slowly, head to toe. "You work here?"
You nodded.
"Maria," he said without breaking the eye contact. "Do you know her?"
"Of course." Maria's eyes landed on you, but her expression didn't even budge. In fact, she acted like you had spoken to her for the first time. She, your friend of five years, looked at your face rather callously and said, "Started recently."
He stared at her, not seeming persuaded, and his eyes found yours once more. "What's your name?"
"Emma," you said smoothly, lying without hesitation.
It was your work name. Safer that way. This place was hell, and you weren’t going to hand your real name to whoever asked—especially not someone who made Maria freeze like that. However, there was a small—really small—chance that he was someone important. And someone who actually worked, or we could say 'bossed,' here. You could sense it from the way Maria tensed when she saw him.
"Emma," he repeated, rolling it on his tongue. "Emma… Emma. All right, Emma. Be careful. Watch your step. Next time, you might not encounter such a nice guy like me."
Your eyebrows raised, you smiled softly—forcefully. He didn't wait for you to answer him, just slid past next to you, and walked upstairs. Shit. He was someone important.
"Don't move." Maria whispered, her voice appearing right behind you. "Don't talk to me. Neither to him. Don't make jokes. Don't draw attention… Actually, don't talk at all. Just finish your shift and get out."
You listened to her, your brows knitted; nonetheless, you nodded subtly. Who had cared? You just wanted your paycheck. Nothing more. And if she warned you, it might have been something actually worth considering.
“It’s Sukuna,” Rue said, pushing open the exit door.
Your eyes found her, mouth ajar. “Sukuna? That Sukuna?”
She nodded. “Mr. Sukuna.”
'Mister' Sukuna was a mysterious figure. As Maria once explained, he was often in the casino, where he also lived. The whole building was his. Hotel, casino, and tower. The entrance, the first floor, was just merely the casino. He was staying in the hotel most of the time, if not all the time.
Vermilion belonged to him too. You'd heard his name more than a million times, yet you'd never seen him until fifteen minutes ago. And though you pretended otherwise, you knew damn well this was some kind of mafia scheme. Not surprising, of course, but still unsettling. You didn't like working under a shadow like that. Nevertheless, you were broke to the bone. Too broke to care.
Rue lit a cigarette and passed it to you. "There must be something."
"What?"
"I don't know," she murmured, leaning closer. "He never comes here unless there's something wrong."
"Isn't this his place too?"
"It is… But he's more, I don't know, interested in his casino. That casino's his thing. He knows everything happens there, though it rarely happens."
You inhaled the smoke, burning your throat. "Rarely?"
"Handles personally. He never comes here. I don't even think he likes here." She laughed softly. "Anton manages here. And the dirty stuff."
"Oh, I know Anton. Maria does whatever he says."
"Yeah… He trusts Maria a lot. So does Sukuna."
"I guess so," you murmured, exhaling smoke. "She always talks about them."
"They really trust her," she said, underscoring 'really' in an unsettling way.
"She's been working here forever."
Rue nodded; however, in her expression, something didn't sit with you right.
"Is it true that he can speak a gazillion languages? Maria once told me Sukuna liked her because she can speak Russian," you said, just to move the conversation from Maria.
Rue shook her head slowly, as if you couldn't begin to grasp it. "Girl… He can speak Russian, Ukrainian, and Mandarin." She paused, looking at you with dead serious eyes. "Fluently."
"No way."
"There's more."
"No fucking way."
"There is a fucking way. They say he can speak Turkic languages too—Turkish, Azerbaijani… I don't fucking remember, Ayghr… You know those people speak in… I don't know…Eyghur… No. No. Uyghur."
"No fucking way. Except English?"
"Except English and Japanese," she said, pointing at you with the cigarette. "He's Japanese."
"Fuck," you murmured, exhaling smoke. "How does anyone even read that many alphabets?"
"Girl, I don't know. For business, I guess."
"Really handles everything himself, huh?"
Rue giggled, then got serious. "Look… I shouldn't even say this but… Just… don't. Just stay away from him. I've seen things. He's insane."
"I think I'm sane enough."
"Good," she murmured, dragging the smoke deep. "We only have to save Ciel."
"Ciel?"
"The only insane one for him is Ciel."
"No—"
"She'd kiss his feet if he so much as twitched a finger."
"No way. I mean… She's gorgeous. She makes bank. She's got men lined up for her."
"You always want someone who doesn't want you."
"Crazy. If I looked like her, I'd be walking on men. Literally."
She laughed and then stubbed her cigarette out on the wall. "You're pretty."
"No," you murmured, tossing your cigarette into the trash. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I know. You're pretty. Don't forget it. It's manifestation, you know?"
"I will become pretty if I say I'm pretty?"
"Yeah. But you have to believe it first." She grabbed your arm, softly pulling you to her side. "You can't make the universe believe a lie."
You nodded. "I'll try."
Together, you stepped back. The music rattled your ribs in an instant. Rue leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and before she let go of you, she said, "Stay away from him. And Maria until he leaves."
Vermilion was nearly empty when your head started pounding. It was almost six; maybe the sun was rising—or maybe not. Day and night had knotted into each other, and you weren’t sure anymore when one ended and the other began. You were wiping the floors when the crash split the silence.
First, Maria appeared, stumbling backward as if she had been running from something. Then Sukuna emerged, striding straight at her like he meant to grind her into the floor.
“Maria!” His roar cracked through the bar. “Maria… Maria.”
Half in shock, you backed away and collided with Sophia. She steadied you, equally stunned, her wide eyes fixed on Sukuna.
“Please,” Maria begged, retreating step by step as he advanced. “You’ve misunderstood—please.”
“Come here.”
“Please… Let me explain,” she cried out.
“Иди сюда!”
(Come here.)
Maria froze. Everyone froze. You were certain the whole room held its breath. Even you couldn’t draw air properly. He looked like something risen straight out of hell. And then his hand snapped around Maria’s throat, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Her face flushed scarlet, tears streaking down as she clawed at his grip.
“You know Maria,” he hissed. “You know I trusted you. You were the last person I’d expect something like that from.”
“Please,” Maria gasped, each word fractured. “I… didn’t… do… it.”
You stepped forward—panic-stricken, in a crash of thoughts in your head. “Stop—she cannot breathe.”
Sukuna’s gaze found you, pinning you in place like a nail. For a heartbeat, you couldn’t move. He was Satan himself. But Maria’s twisted, choking face dragged another step out of you despite your trembling.
“What’s going on? She said you misunderstood,” you managed, your voice thinner than you intended.
“Look at that, Maria.” He turned her head toward you. “You’ve got a fan. Care to tell them what you did?”
“I…” Maria murmured, choking on her words.
“There must be something wrong,” you said.
“Yeah. There’s something wrong,” Sukuna hissed, throwing Maria across the room like a sack of potatoes.
You scrambled after her, crouching, cradling her face between your palms. “Breathe. Please. Fuck—breathe.”
Her throat was already raw and mottled with his fingerprints. A bag hit the ground beside you, spilling white pills across the floor.
“Our little Maria has been skimming,” Sukuna said, his voice a quiet blade. “From me.”
Maria’s eyes locked on yours, shining with guilt and shame, but most of all, terror. You knew the truth instantly—she had done it. She knew the price, and now so did you. You caressed her cheek.
“Maria I really trusted you… I wasn’t expecting you to get greedy,” he said, circling around you and Maria slowly like a vulture waiting for its carcass.
“You misunderstood,” you murmured, still caressing Maria’s cheek.
He barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Wrong?”
“She didn’t do it,” you said, looking at her pretty face. Her face shouldn’t be agonized. “That’s my bag.”
“No,” Maria murmured, but her voice was too strained to be heard by anyone except you.
“My wallet’s inside. My ID… Check it,” you said, watching Maria shaking her head furiously—begging you to stop.