Working as a waitress in a brothel cafe was not part of my plans. But when you wake up in a ditch with a broken head, without family and past, they don’t ask you much. A rag in your teeth and a march to scrub tables after a twelve-hour shift. They don’t pay overtime here, there are no lunch breaks, and you can’t just quit, because according to the documents you are registered as the property of this establishment. Could things get any worse? Ask the harem master who just bought me. He has creepy eyes, a bad character, ten humiliating nicknames for me alone and the same number of frightening secrets in a gloomy mansion. And it’s time to decide how to get out of this trap before they finish me off.