Aku no Kuma's laughter echoed through the stadium, a high-pitched, mocking cackle that bounced off the thousands of empty velvet seats and rattled straight through my teeth.
High above on her descending pedestal, she leaned so far over the guardrail that her engineered, flawless cleavage practically spilled over the edge, the hot pink underwear glowing like a neon target under the fierce spotlights.
Below the stage, a low murmur grew into a heavy, suffocating wave of noise as dozens of eyes bored into us. VelvetVice and I stood rigid, completely exposed in the center of the spotlight, deliberately ignoring the fact that Ame was literally trembling behind us, her entire body was a massive wreck on the polished wood.
Velvet's head didn't turn, but her voice dropped low—so low that the physical air didn't even carry it. It existed solely inside the private, static-heavy channel of our Share-Lock feature.
"Wait, what the fuck is going on? Midnight?"
