Eliza didn't beat around the bush. "Lydia, I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Lydia gave Eliza a once-over, then stepped aside. "Come in, let's chat."

Eliza laid out her predicament.

It took Lydia a moment to absorb the news. Eliza had always been the top student and the pride of their town. She had even gotten into the most prestigious university with flying colors. "Are you... in trouble?"

Eliza nodded, her every move heavy with worry. "I owe someone money, so I came to... ask for a job."

"You don't have a job?" Lydia was taken aback.

"I do, but I was thinking of working evenings... like a part-time gig. Can you help me out?" Eliza bit her lip.

She'd heard Lydia was now the top manager and could probably find a spot for someone without much hassle. It just depended on whether Lydia was willing to help.

Lydia lit a cigarette, her piercing eyes never leaving Eliza. "You can't handle this job."

In college, she even taught herself jazz and folk dance.

you can dance. It's about..." Lydia lit her cigarette, took a long drag, and blew out the smoke slowly, her brow

thing as someone who can't adapt. It's only environments that

had never been more

wouldn't come to a place like this unless she was truly desperate. The scars on Eliza's wrist confirmed her suspicions.

Eliza nodded. "I'm sure."

I won't turn you away. But Eliza, you need to understand that this job may pay well but

be upfront about the harsh

dancer was seen as the lowest rung of society, looked down upon, and despised. In the eyes of men, dancers were mere playthings devoid of dignity and value. Their bodies were on display, to be manipulated at will. Such

sleeping with them... that's my limit." That was Eliza's

by this weekend, and I'll personally teach you some

I'll be

Eliza

the

Welton International, a dedicated

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