C19 The News Spread like Wildfire.

The next day, Clarissa had just arrived at Night Emperor and immediately sensed something off. Groups of people huddled together, whispering and pointing in her direction.

She shrugged it off, attributing the gossip to her recent transfer from janitorial duties to the Public Relations Department, which must have sparked some controversy.

But upon entering the department's lounge, Clarissa realized she had been too naive.

"Hahaha, look, the bitch has arrived," a mocking voice rang out, draining the color from Clarissa's face. The one calling her a "bitch" was none other than Ava, the so-called princess of VIP room 606.

"Keep it down, Ava," another voice chimed in. "It's not like we're blind and can't see the bitch walking in."

Ava's laughter filled the room. "You should've seen it for yourselves. This woman, dressed like a clown with a face that could scare a ghost, was crawling on the floor picking up money for Young Master Powell. He told her to wag her tail, and she did. It was utterly astonishing!"

Clarissa's blood ran cold. She blinked in confusion. Had the lights gone out? Why was everything so dark? To the onlookers, she stood frozen, a picture of horror, unaware that her shock was due to the sudden darkness before her eyes.

The brief loss of light heightened her other senses, and the princesses' and models' laughter and insults pierced her ears without mercy.

For a fleeting moment, she wished for the relief of death. But then she remembered the hopeful face of a child in prison, and she dismissed the thought.

No... She couldn't just give up. She was living for the girl who had taken her place in death.

As light returned, Clarissa stood silently, enduring the pointing fingers and harsh words without retort.

Ava, frustrated by Clarissa's silence, pushed her. "Stop your act! You've already sold yourself, so don't pretend to be pure! Just yesterday, you were flaunting yourself in front of all those men. You weren't so high and mighty then!" Unsatisfied, Ava kicked Clarissa, sending her tumbling to the ground with a thud.

"Take it easy, Ava," someone protested. "You can't just kick someone to the ground."

"I barely touched her! How was I to know she'd fall so easily?" Ava retorted, giving Clarissa another dismissive kick. "Get up. Enough with the act. If you want to play the innocent, at least look the part."

Ava's cruel laughter followed her taunts. "Did I just kick someone to the ground? I had no idea. Or was it just a dog?"

The room erupted with laughter and mocking suggestions for Clarissa to perform degrading acts for their amusement.

Clarissa, however, silently pushed herself to her feet.

"What's going on here? Why isn't anyone working?" The door flew open, and Amadea stood there, her face livid with anger at the sight of Clarissa being tormented. "What are you all doing? Get back to work!"

The once bold crowd quickly dispersed, not daring to cross Ms. Amadea, whose reputation for being tough was well-known.

"Are you an idiot?" Amadea asked Clarissa, pulling her up. "Don't you know how to stand up for yourself?"

Amadea had a soft spot for Clarissa. After witnessing the abuse she endured without complaint, she felt compelled to be kinder to this woman who reminded her so much of her past self.

"Ms. Amadea, do you need me for anything?" Clarissa asked.

Amadea's anger dissipated, replaced by a resigned sigh. "You should rest today. You don't look well."

"I'm perfectly fine," Clarissa insisted.

Amadea nearly cursed in frustration but instead said, "There's no work today. It's not like there's work every day."

"Alright, I'll wait here," Clarissa said. "Please let me know if anything comes up. I may not have the looks or the figure, but I'm willing to do any job, no matter how dirty or tiring. I'll do whatever it takes to please the clients, just as long as I don't have to drink." And Clarissa had never once considered selling her body; she felt her appearance was protection enough.

"You... never mind, do as you please," Amadea said with a shake of her head as she exited the Public Relations Department.

She had decided not to assign any tasks to Clarissa today.

But she hadn't anticipated what would happen next...

After leaving the third-floor restroom, Clarissa was abruptly pulled into one of the private rooms.

"Look, Director Fisher, this is the Clarissa I was telling you about."

Clarissa watched as Hannah, with a flirtatious smile, spoke to the balding, potbellied middle-aged man lounging on the couch. Hannah was no stranger to Clarissa; she was the same model caught in a passionate kiss with Tiernan on the staircase.

"Clarissa, come over here. Director Fisher has offered to buy you a drink."

Clarissa shook her head. "I'm allergic to alcohol."

Hannah's demeanor turned icy as she snapped, "Clarissa, how dare you refuse Director Fisher? Are you disrespecting him?"

Catching a glimpse of Director Fisher's displeased face, Clarissa had no choice but to stand her ground. "Director Fisher, I truly am allergic to alcohol. I nearly died from it once. If I drink, my body won't hold up, and causing a scene here at Night Emperor would be terrible for everyone."

Director Fisher's face remained stoic upon hearing her explanation, and he dropped the issue of the drink. Yet, he wasn't ready to let her off the hook.

"So, what can you do?"

Before Clarissa could respond, Hannah interjected, "Why not have her sing, Director Fisher? With her raspy voice, it's bound to be entertaining."

Clarissa's vocal cords had been damaged during her time in prison, leaving her with a harsh, grating voice. She typically avoided speaking, and when she did, she would consciously lower her tone to a whisper.

"With a voice that unpleasant, you think she can sing?"

Hannah, seizing the moment, climbed onto Director Fisher's lap and purred, "Director Fisher, why miss out on a good song? Plus, it's the most fun to hear her sing with that raspy voice. Let her keep singing, one song after another. If her singing bothers you, we can always use earplugs."

"You actually want to listen to her sing with that awful voice?" Director Fisher questioned.

"That's exactly why—it's so bad that I'm curious to see if it could get any worse once she's completely hoarse," Hannah said, pressing her ample chest against Director Fisher's arm. "Come on, Director Fisher, please? Will you let her?"