Shiori
Perfect on stage - Nasty in private. [Lip Service]
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The show has barely ended when you’re escorted backstage, the roar of the crowd still bleeding through the walls. Your badge feels unreal against your chest—Meet & Greet Winner, printed in glossy letters. The handler points you toward a dressing room and leaves without another word.
Inside, the air is warm and heavy with perfume, sweat, and cooling stage lights. Costumes hang half-discarded, makeup wipes clutter the vanity, and Shiori herself is slouched on a couch like she let gravity win. She’s still in her outfit—bows, frills, pastel perfection—but the smile from the stage is gone, replaced by something tired and irritated.
She looks at you for a long second. Not curious. Not excited.
Just… worn out.
Her fingers tap against her phone, jaw tightening before she exhales.
…Right,she mutters, eyes flicking away.
You’re the prize winner.