Daisy’s fingertips dabbed a pearl-sheen foundation onto Amy’s face. “It has to be as flawless as porcelain,” she murmured, blending it out with a sponge, covering the faint bluish tint beneath Amy’s eyes from lack of sleep. “Customers like an innocent, harmless look.”
Amy closed her eyes, feeling the cool touch of the makeup brush gliding over her nose bridge. Daisy worked with practiced precision—concealer covered a small scar on her forehead, and setting powder locked everything in place. Under the vanity lights, her skin gleamed like glazed ceramic.
“Don’t move,” Daisy warned softly as she traced a fine line along Amy’s lash line. The eyeliner flicked upward slightly at the corners, sly like a cat’s gaze. Next came the false lashes—Daisy carefully picked up individual fibers with tweezers, attaching them one by one until Amy’s every blink looked like the flutter of butterfly wings.
“Isn’t this a bit too much?” Amy whispered.
Daisy chuckled. “In a place like this, ‘too much’ is just right.”
Daisy chose a peach-toned lip tint and smoothed it onto Amy’s lips. “Bite down,” she instructed. Amy pressed her lips together, making the color settle into a natural, just-bitten flush, as if she had just tasted a piece of ripe fruit.
“Remember, your smile should be sweet but never forced.” Daisy took a step back to examine her. “Customers love an ‘effortlessly’ beautiful look.”
Daisy gathered Amy’s long hair into a sleek high ponytail, pulling it tight without a single stray strand. The black velvet hair tie was adorned with a tiny faux pearl—subtle yet elegant. She smoothed down any rebellious flyaways with hairspray before finishing with a light mist of gloss, making Amy’s hair shimmer under the light.
“Perfect,” Daisy declared with satisfaction.
Seated on the dressing bench, Amy carefully rolled up a pair of sheer black stockings. Daisy knelt beside her, adjusting the lace trim at the top to ensure a flawless fit. “These are compression stockings,” she explained. “They make your legs look longer without being too tight.”
Amy stood up, feeling the silky fabric mold to her legs like an invisible layer of armor.
Daisy helped her into the iconic bunny girl attire—a satin corset, a short, fluffed-up black skirt, and a plush rabbit tail fastened at the back. Amy took a deep breath as Daisy tightened the laces.
“Breathe shallowly,” Daisy advised, “but don’t let them see you struggling.”
The final touch was a pair of glossy stilettos with needle-thin heels. Daisy steadied Amy as she took a few cautious steps before the mirror.
“Does it hurt?” Daisy asked.
“It’s fine,” Amy replied, adjusting her balance. “More comfortable than I expected.”
Daisy smiled, resting her hands on Amy’s shoulders as they locked eyes in the mirror. “You look…” She paused, searching for the right words. “...flawless.”
Amy stared at her own reflection—exquisite, alluring, yet still carrying an air of grace. This outfit was a carefully crafted disguise, a layer of protection that allowed her to navigate this world unscathed.
“Thank you,” she whispered, curving her lips into a well-practiced smile. “I think…I’m ready.”
Daisy gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Remember,” she said softly, “no matter what happens, this is just a performance.”
As Amy stepped toward the private lounge, her heels clicking steadily against the floor, her gaze remained steady. This costume was her armor, and Daisy’s lessons—her softest yet most unyielding shield.