Welcome to Creep's Cast.

I work at a restaurant for monsters.

There are five roles to survive, written by The Wanderer.

I've never been very lucky. When I was five, I fell into a well during a family picnic. At

12, I broke both arms trying to prove that I could fly by jumping off of our garage roof.

At 16, I crashed my first car the day after getting my license, and when I turned 21 last month,

I lost my apartment, my girlfriend, and my college scholarship all in the same week.

So when I saw the help-wanted sign in the Grammy window of Gustav's fine dining,

I wasn't exactly expecting my luck to change.

I just needed a job, any job, because three weeks of sleeping in my Honda Civic had me

desperate enough to try anything.

The restaurant itself didn't look promising, tucked between an abandoned laundromat into pawn shop and the worst

part of town. Its weathered brick exterior and flickering neon sign screened, health code violation.

The windows were tinted so dark that they were nearly black,

and the heavy wooden door had more locks than seemed necessary for any legitimate business.

But beggars can't be choosers, and so I pulled open the door and I stepped inside.

The interior was nothing like I expected.

Where I anticipated sticky flores and cockroaches, I found polished mahogany and crisp white tablecloths.

Crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling that seemed impossibly high for the building's exterior dimensions.

The air smelled of something that I couldn't quite place.

An odd mixture of expensive perfume, rare spices, and something metallic and raw.

The host who had greeted me was immaculately dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost

...