Chương 12: Chapter 11: Open

"Fuck, I am bored; I hate my father bringing me to this shit hole where there is no decent entertainment," cursed a blond man in his early twenties as the carriage rolled on the streets of Greltheaven.

"Careful, Vans, it would be bad if those words fall on the wrong ears," cautioned Meryn, sitting across him. Vans glared at his friend irritatingly but did not say anything.

"Vans is right; this city does not have anything."

"In these four days, we have gone to its two casinos, five whorehouses, and a river ferry, which was the only thing that somehow entertained me," sighed Rand disappointedly as he turned to his friends. They are from the Warsteel, the capital. The city is tens of times larger than this; it has every kind of entertainment and pleasure one would seek, even the forbidden types.

"So, where should we go?" asked Rand, and there was silence among the five for a moment.

"Let's check out the new whorehouse that just opened today," Jarvis suggested, but no one seemed very interested in his suggestion.

"Come on, it will be better than complaining endlessly," he said, finally. They did that yesterday when they couldn't decide where to go. Like idiots, they made the round trip across the city for over two hours.

"Driver, take us to the new brothel," said Jarvis, and a minute later, the carriage turned toward the entertainment district. Twelve minutes later, the carriage stopped.

"Gentlemen, we have arrived," announced the driver. The five people engaged in discussions looked out, and surprise was evident on their faces.

"Interesting colours," said Meryn; Vans and others couldn't help but nod. The towering iron gates loomed ahead, opening onto a wide, elegant roadway bathed in the ethereal glow of Elyren Moonflower trees. Their silvery light shimmered across the path, casting soft, shifting patterns on the ground. At the far end, a breathtaking mermaid fountain sparkled in the moonlight, its cascading water catching every glimmer.

Beyond it, the manor's grand entrance stood in regal beauty, its walls painted in a mesmerizing blend of pink and violet.

"Driver, take us inside," Javier ordered. The carriage moved forward, gliding through the grand iron gates and into the silvery embrace of the Elyren Moonflower trees. Their ethereal glow bathed the carriage in soft, shifting light, with delicate tendrils of luminescence slipping through the windows. Inside, the silver radiance mingled with the carriage's magical illumination, enveloping the interior in a dreamlike shimmer.

"The parking spaces are nearly full," Vans noted, sounding a little surprised as he got out of the carriage; he had not expected to see such a crowd on the opening day of a new brothel.

"Let's go inside," said Rand. They walked past the mermaid fountain toward the manor's lightly glowing steps. Before they reached the door, they could see the huge hall. What they saw inside the hall couldn't help but surprise them. It didn't look like a brothel, they had ever been in.

"Have we come to the right place?" asked Lenin because what they saw did not seem like a whorehouse. Though the familiar feel of classes, told them it is. The surprising scene had only stopped them for a few seconds before they stepped inside, feeling curious.

"Welcome to Velvet Garden, patrons," said a melodic voice as they entered. When they turned, they saw a beautiful woman with flaming red hair wearing ashimmering black backless gown.

"Is this really a whorehouse?" Vans blurted out, his voice cutting through the air with an awkward mix of curiosity and doubt, and the woman's luscious lipscurved into a little smile, hearing the question.

"It is, and I hope you all enjoy your time here," she replied radiantly. Vans nodded, looking at her with undisguised lust, before turning to face the hall. He saw a big, beautifully decorated hall filled with tables on which men and women in expensive clothes were conversing and laughing while a band played soft music in the background. It felt nothing like the debauched den he had expected. Instead, the atmosphere carried the refined air of an elite restaurant.

The kind they frequented on special occasions—where every movement was polished, every manner impeccable, and luxury dripped from every detail. The only striking difference? Not a single woman in the room was anything less than breathtakingly beautiful. Every woman was a vision of beauty, adorned in exquisitely tailored garments that seemed crafted just for them. Their outfits fit like a second skin, flowing effortlessly with their movements as if they had been born to wear them.

There was no trace of discomfort—only confidence and an enchanting grace that made them all the more mesmerizing.

"It may not feel like a brothel, but it is," said Lenin, looking at men and women disappearing into the staircase and some returning from another.

"My friends, as you can see, there are very few whores remained, and I would like to have one before others take them," said Rand and walked toward a young woman in her early twenties, sitting by a long bar wearing a low neck red dress, with a glass of golden brown whisky in her hand.

"You look ravishing, if you don't mind me saying," Rand murmured as he appeared beside the stunning young woman draped in a shimmering silky dress. She put her drink down on the counter effortlessly and turned to him with a faint, knowing smile.

"I don't mind," she replied, her voice smooth as silk.

"I like compliments," she added with a twinkle in her eyes after a moment.

"Then you're going to love what I have to say next," he said, sliding onto the seat beside her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. In the next few minutes, Rand had nearly forgotten he was talking to a whore, but felt like he was talking to a peer of similar standing. … Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

I watched the hall through the one-way mirror in the small hidden room that I had asked Valentina to make, and the things I saw couldn't help but put a smile on my face. When I saw the parked carriages from the road, I had already expected a big crowd, but the crowd in the hall surprised me, and what was even more surprising was the girls. They are doing great, they engage with patrons, smile, and laugh at their words while slowly seducing them.

The seduction is not for sex; they will have sex with patrons if they want it, but they do not need to. The system of a brothel is different; they will not need to have sex to get paid; the moment they start talking with the girls, their billing begins. It did not matter if they were with the girls for a minute or an hour; they would be charged by the hour, and I don't think there would be much of a complaint because we are not selling just sex.

It has been proven that individuals who seek partners outside of marriage do so mainly to satisfy their emotional needs rather than merely their physical desires. While they may indulge in physical pleasures, it is the emotional connection and comfort they crave the most. In this one month, through the various teachers and my methods, I have trained the girls in such a way that they would be able to fill that emotional void in their patrons, as well as the physical ones.

'I should be charging more as I am doing therapy for these people,' I thought with a smile. They also eat and drink a lot, which is good news. The wine and food are the best, and the head chef and bartender are well above level 20. I had to pay everyone a premium. Especiall the visible staff, such as the band and serving staff, who didn't want to work in a brothel with standard pay. I watched through the glass window for about an hour before I returned to the office, where I saw the guards closing the gates.

We are full. I had dreamed about this scenario but did not expect it to occur onthe opening night or in the first week. There were already more than ten patrons who did not have any girls to talk to, so it was wise to close the door until some patrons left. While it is a good strategy to keep slightly more patrons than the girls, we could not keep too many as it would cause client dissatisfaction, which I could not afford. I am willing to suffer the loss than let my patrons have an unhappy time in my establishment.

I did not stay in my office for long. I quickly ate the dinner that had already beenplaced on my table and returned with a notebook in my hand. Taking notes is essential—it helps me determine what works and doesn't. I meticulously recorded everything: the spots patrons favor, the women they gravitate toward, and the speed at which they order drinks and food. But most importantly, I observe how long they linger in conversation before the night inevitably leads them to the sheets.

A few hours passed, and to my surprise, I noticed that 50% of patrons spent at least an hour with the girls before they went to the rooms; 20% of them talked for at least two hours before going to the rooms, while 30% just talked without going to the rooms. When they left the establishment, there was a smile on their faces. Other things were happening that I had not planned, and some caught me by surprise. All the tables have only two chairs, and even the stools by the bar are placed in groups of two.

This arrangement ensures that each patron has a private conversation. Still, as midnight rolled and more people began to arrive, I saw people asking for more chairs. Now, some tables have one woman with two or three patrons, and some tables even have two or three girls with a group of four or five patrons. I wanted to do this, but my research suggested it would not work. However, it is working splendidly. Seeing that, I sent a note to Carla to let more people in.

These girls are not common whores; they have been dressed impeccably and with flawless makeup and have perfect manners, like the women of wealthy families. People will unconsciously relate to seeing those elements, and their behaviour toward them will change. It is due to this unconscious change that these people share the girls among themselves, even taking turns having sex with them, which gives them a different type of psychological satisfaction.

Outside, they could not bed any women of standing they wanted, but here, they could bed anyone who looked like their wealthy friends, and that produced psychological satisfaction. These psychological tricks are common on Earth; established businesses employ hundreds to sell their services and products. I looked for a few more minutes before leaving the window and taking the secret staircase; I did not walk back to my office but to the make-up room.

"Continue," I said when they turned toward me. Two girls wearing pink robes sat in front of the mirror while six different kinds of combs, brushes, and other makeup instruments worked on them at a speed that was hard to follow. This is Eudo's actual ability. He said he could control six things at once with the telekinesis skill, allowing him to work on six people simultaneously. It is a sight to behold. Every second, a change appears on the girls. Their hair became glossy, the make-up became perfect as before.

It is not just for the makeup, but also the clothes they wear. Every time they change clients, they come here for new makeup and clothes, which might seem like a hassle and a waste of resources and time, but it is not. From what I have observed in the past few hours, it is one of my best ideas. It instantly attracts the patrons' attention because even if they don't entirelyremember all the details, they can tell something has changed about them. This creates curiosity.

"Girls, bring the dress on the hanger number five and black lingerie from the number seventeen stand," said Eudo, and three teenage girls quickly followed his orders. These three girls signed the contract, but since they are not eighteen, I will not use them on the floors above. I couldn't just let them freeload, so I put them to work. These three have become assistants to Eudo, while the others are doing different jobs. The girls brought the clothes, and Lana got out of her chair and disrobed, completely naked.

Eudo looked at every part of her and moved the brushes where the pleasure marks were; even the love bites had disappeared as the brushes moved over them, and her body became flawless as before. As he finished with the brush, he quickly took control of the clothes the girls brought; they floated and flowed on Lana's body. She is used to it, as she raises her hands and feet, in familier grace without Eudo saying anything. Within seconds, the lingerie and the dress appear on her.

He tops them off with some jewellery before applying some skill that tightens the dress, among other things. At the end of the minute, she became radiant again, and even I couldn't help but feel attracted to her.

"Thanks, Eudo," she thanked, "Master Silver," she said respectfully before walking out of the room. I stayed in the changing room for an hour, and by the time I walked out, I was beyond sure I had made the right decision to hire him. What I am paying him is much higher than what most makeup artists make, but given his level and skill, he is beyond worth it. I lingered there for quite some time before finally stepping out after half an hour. I sat by the window once again, watching the scene unfold.

To my surprise, even after midnight, the flow of clients showed no sign of slowing. Usually, the crowd begins to thin at this hour, but tonight, the energy remains undiminished, as if the night itself refuses to end. I could tell many skills were active in the hall, but these skills were not powerful enough; the girls aren't powerful enough. This is one reason I have spent so much time enhancing the girls' other aspects, from teaching them different things to getting them the best dresses and makeup.

Though I would have done that either way, they enhanced the features they already have, and I would have needed those skills for the kind of business I plan to run. The level and skills are essential, and I genuinely hope the girls level up after today; I need them to have high levels. I want to make the establishment an actualHigh-class brothel. While the establishment could be considered a high-class brothel, it is only on the scale of a small city.

The actual high-class brothels in the big cities are on a completely different scale. The girls in them are above Lv. 20, many at Lv. 25 and above. On average, people achieve level 18 in their lifetime, though this number could be slightly higher or lower. Reaching level 20 is considered a milestone, and those who achieve it are deemed exceptional. Carla said four girls are at level 19, but she did not mention their names, and I did not ask.

Classes and levels are considered secrets, it is impolite to ask about them. Time passed as I watched every aspect of the establishment, taking notes on everything. With so much writing, I began to feel pain in my fingers, but I ignored it and continued taking notes. Soon, it was dawn, and the last remaining patrons began to leave. As I watched the last patron leave, I got up from the window. I did not go to the hall; the girls had worked hard all night and needed their much-deserved sleep. So do I.