CHAPTER 4 — BEHIND THE DIM LIGHTS

Time moved quickly—so quickly that I barely realized it was already Friday night. The night that marked the start of the busiest, loudest, and most exhausting weekend at Club Scorpion.

As usual, I walked with Mbak Yarni to the main road and we boarded public transportation, headed straight to the bright, towering building that had become my second world. Scorpion stood like a proud giant, drenched in neon lights, as if inviting people to leave their real lives at the door and step into something they could never admit the next morning.

The moment we entered, the familiar cocktail of cigarette smoke, perfume, and dim lights greeted me. It felt like slipping into a costume I had no choice but to wear.

That night, Mami Marni called me over.

“Clarissa, come. I want you to meet someone.”

I followed her, my hands cold with nerves. Beside her stood an older man—elegant, poised, and clearly wealthy. His shirt was pressed perfectly, his hair combed neatly, and the subtle scent of expensive cologne surrounded him.

“This is Mr. Bram,” Mami said proudly. “One of our important guests. Clarissa is new—she’s a future dentist.”

I smiled politely, though a familiar discomfort crept up my chest.

Why did my identity as a student always have to be displayed like a badge?

Something to make the guests more entertained?

I wished, deeply, that someday when I graduated, none of this would follow me. People judged harshly. Once you were labeled an LC, society rarely looked at you the same way again.

But for now… I had no choice.

Mr. Bram gave a small nod.

“A dental student? Impressive.”

His voice was calm, warm in a way that felt practiced.

He booked the VVIP room—a quiet, isolated space far from the loud main hall. The lights were low, the sofa wide and black, the wooden table long and glossy. Everything about the room said one thing: privacy.

He handed me a small device filled with song lists.

“Choose a song for me,” he said gently.

And that was how our night went—him singing old songs he liked, me helping with the music, occasionally laughing at his small jokes. It was peaceful. Oddly peaceful. For a moment, I almost forgot where I was.

His friends came a bit later. They were younger—maybe in their forties—and they conversed in a foreign language I didn’t understand. Business talk, I guessed from their expressions. A few LC friends of mine were invited in, and the room became livelier.

Soft laughter.

Smoke drifting lazily upward.

Glasses clinking.

A song playing in the background.

My job seemed simple: keep them company, manage the playlist, encourage them to order the pricier drinks, and maintain the atmosphere.

But behind each smile was a constant tension—staying alert, staying polite, staying in character.

At least that night ended safely.

---

But the next night, Saturday, was different.

From the moment I entered Scorpion, I felt it in the air—

a heaviness, a sharpness, a louder chaos.

I was assigned to a group of young men. Their clothes were nice, but their attitudes were anything but.

They spoke loudly, laughed too hard, stared too boldly.

And from the start, they were rough.

One of them shoved a glass toward me.

“Drink.”

I tried to refuse politely.

“Sorry, I don’t—”

“Drink,” he repeated, his tone hard.

I exchanged a worried look with the two LC girls beside me.

We all knew this type.

The type who believed money made them kings.

We tried to stay professional, but they kept pushing.

And that was the first time I ever tasted alcohol in my life.

It was bitter—shockingly bitter.

The kind of taste that made me wonder how people could possibly enjoy it.

But they kept cheering, urging, forcing. And I… didn’t have the strength to go against them.

Meanwhile, they drank effortlessly.

They were clearly used to it.

I had only taken a few sips before the world around me began to tilt.

My head grew light.

My steps unsteady.

By the time they left the room, everything was spinning.

I felt sick.

I stumbled.

And eventually, I threw up.

The next morning, I woke up in Mbak Yarni’s room.

My head throbbed painfully.

The taste of alcohol still haunted my throat.

Yarni came out of the bathroom, hair still wet.

She crossed her arms.

“You’re so stupid.”

Her voice was sharp, but not without worry.

“You can’t let yourself get drunk like that. How are you supposed to work if one group of customers can already knock you out?”

I didn’t argue.

She was right.

I simply lowered my head, feeling the weight of shame and exhaustion pressing down on me.

---

Sunday night—my third night in a row.

By then, Scorpion’s darker side felt even more obvious.

I was assigned to a man whose behavior made my skin crawl.

His words were inappropriate, his hands too bold, his presence suffocating.

He leaned in closer and I tensed—

But at the last second, Mami Marni appeared.

She stepped in between us with the authority of someone who had seen too much of this world.

She pulled me out before anything worse could happen.

That night, sitting backstage with a glass of water in my trembling hand, I finally understood something:

This job wasn’t only about physical endurance.

It demanded mental strength—

the kind that didn’t break even when you were mocked, pushed, or treated like nothing.

It demanded a smile even when your heart wanted to scream.

And somehow…

I was still here.

Still surviving.

Still trying.

Still playing the role of Clarissa each night—

even though Santi, the real me,

was slowly fracturing with every passing day.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***