Grace of the Rose (3)
Grace of the Rose (3)
I exhaled a heated breath with my knees drawn together.
Warmth rose from every inch of my body that had been touched, while clear droplets trickled down my dampened thighs.
"......"
I shot Madam Rosalia a resentful glance.
My body had already grown sensitive from days of abstinence, yet she'd subjected me to such intense teasing.
Seeing my pouting expression, Madam Rosalia curved her eyes into an enchanting smile.
She looked at me as if I were some adorable creature.
"Heheh. My apologies if the teasing was too much. It's been ages since we had a cutie like Rene here."
'Cutie' was certainly a first for me.
With such an earnest apology, how could I possibly complain further?
Contact with a beauty like her made my heart race regardless—even if it was mischievous teasing.
"...Fine. I'll accept your apology."
Reluctantly, I relaxed the tension between my brows.
Only then did the beaming madam take a step back.
As the rose fragrance faded, my heartbeat gradually settled.
Crossing her arms, she gave me another thorough once-over.
"To summarize, Rene's body is perfection. Flawless from head to toe—simply magnificent."
Ameline and Olivia standing nearby nodded in agreement.
Just as I was wondering if I could finally dress, the madam continued.
"Every lady at our establishment has her own unique charm. Defining and highlighting these distinctive traits is crucial—when attractions overlap, customers quickly grow bored."
Though vaguely worded, I understood her meaning.
Delicate and refined beauties, cute and coquettish girls, sensual temptresses—they categorized courtesans along such lines.
So which type did she see me as?
"In that regard, Rene is exceptionally unique. That cold, indifferent expression paired with an unexpectedly compliant nature—inspiration struck me instantly on how to utilize this rare combination."
The madam approached me again.
Apparently, the appraisal wasn't over yet.
I straightened my posture nervously as her hands glided over my abdomen and thighs.
"This perfectly toned body without an ounce of excess fat! Especially these firm abs and thighs—like a wild stallion! A black-maned white horse galloping across the plains!"
Her voice brimmed with enthusiasm.
Watching her excitement, I flinched when her arm suddenly reached out.
Her slightly damp palm cupped my cheek.
"Your sharp eyes and expressionless face give off a prickly impression. You seem haughty, like you'd refuse to carry just anyone."
Her gaze drifted lower to my chest.
With lingering heat still coursing through me, my nipples remained stiffly erect.
"But once mounted, they'd discover the reality differs. Though expected to struggle defiantly, you'd prove surprisingly obedient."
Her touch trailed down my neck and shoulders.
Though she wasn't touching particularly sensitive areas, my body twitched reflexively at each contact.
"You'd surrender your back unresistingly, never refusing their hands. Your skin feels soft and warm to the touch. The truth is—that wild stallion was always a mare secretly yearning to be ridden."
She clapped her hands together brightly.
All eyes, including mine, focused on her again.
"In short, the charm lies in the unexpected contrast. That's the lovable appeal we'll cultivate for Rene at Grace of the Rose."
'Wild stallion'—I didn't fully grasp the analogy.
So my concept would be appearing aloof and prickly, yet obedient in bed? Men liked that sort of contrast?
"Was the metaphor too difficult? Anyway, pursuing this direction will surely make Rene popular."
Perhaps the city's top brothel owner saw something I didn't.
I responded with slightly diminished confidence to her bold declaration.
"...I still can't quite envision it myself."
"Oh, don't worry. You're already perfect as you are, Rene. With that fairy-like pretty face and provocatively stunning figure, you're more than qualified."
Though embarrassing, she wasn't wrong.
At any rate, her appraisal seemed finally concluded.
I retrieved my discarded clothes and dressed before sitting on the sofa.
Madam Rosalia, who'd been preparing documents, handed me a contract.
"Now let's formally conclude our agreement. Can you read?"
"Yes, unless the words are too difficult."
"My, how wonderful. Even courtesans need knowledge and refinement these days."
This nation's literacy rate was surprisingly high for its era.
While remote villages might differ, about seven in ten city dwellers could read—one of the late king's celebrated achievements.
Of course, most bottom-rung societal layers like prostitutes remained illiterate.
Had Rubyia not taught me, I'd still be among them.
"The compensation section is blank—I left it open for discussion."
"I see."
Truthfully, money mattered little.
More would naturally be better, but anything around average sufficed.
"Before discussing that, let me explain Grace of the Rose's structure. Our ladies are categorized—1st Floor, 2nd Floor, and 3rd Floor."
I listened attentively as she elaborated.
Like typical brothels, Grace of the Rose operated a tavern on the first floor.
'1st Floor Ladies' served drinks, cleaned, and performed menial tasks—the lowest-paid workers who didn't engage in prostitution.
'2nd Floor Ladies' were standard courtesans—entertaining guests with conversation downstairs before moving upstairs for paid encounters.
Finally, '3rd Floor Ladies' were elite courtesans—naturally gifted seductresses superior in every aspect.
They never descended to the first floor, only observing guests haughtily from the third-floor balcony.
Only affluent patrons could request their services.
"Rene absolutely qualifies for the 3rd Floor. Though unprecedented, you deserve special treatment."
"...I appreciate your kindness."
From slum bottom-dweller to elite courtesan—life worked in mysterious ways.
"Any special requirements, Rene? Certain acts you refuse, or client types you'd reject?"
City courtesans could be that selective?
I pondered seriously.
Having endured everything imaginable in the slums, the brothel would presumably screen out truly depraved clients.
That left only conventional sexual acts—few of which I'd outright refuse.
At worst, perhaps kissing or cunnilingus—though sufficient payment could sway even those.
"There are minor reservations, but would those pose problems?"
"Not at all. Speak freely. Our 3rd Floor ladies are family—we accommodate their preferences."
Then why endure unnecessary discomfort?
Despite vast experience, certain skills still eluded me.
"I'm hopeless at acting cute or flirtatious. I'm simply... not that feminine."
While accustomed to receiving lust through my body, charming men with smiles felt foreign.
Perhaps due to lingering self-consciousness.
Even when attempting forced coquetry, men immediately noticed the awkwardness.
"Hmm. You don't exude that vibe naturally. But your awkwardness could be endearing itself. I'll keep it in mind."
"...Thank you."
Her kind compliments always stirred something within.
Had I fled here earlier instead of worrying over debts and pursuers, Rubyia might still live.
"Regarding other preferences—refuse anything uncomfortable. Most clients will understand, and I'll handle any outbursts."
"Understood."
How much might have changed had I met this caring madam sooner?
I banished the belated regrets—meaningless now.
"Any other particulars?"
"Ah, Madam. I'm infertile, so no contraception is needed. Just thought you should know."
"...I see. Men prefer going raw. We'll factor this into your rates."
She offered no further comment.
Her russet eyes met mine briefly before lowering.
A sympathetic gaze—while infertility benefited prostitutes, it remained a feminine flaw.
Of course, I could conceive normally.
But revealing my recovery power's full extent was impossible—hence the lie.
Otherwise, I'd need animal-gut contraceptives or spermicides inserted.
Men's members provided sufficient intrusion already.
"Now Rene, I've estimated your rates. Thoughts?"
She handed me a small slip.
I read the figures carefully.
---------------------
Base Fee for Appointment: 1 Arshen
Simulated Intercourse: 1 Arshen
Oral Sex: 1 Arshen
Vaginal Intercourse: 2 Arshen
Anal Intercourse: TBD
Short Stay: 10 Arshen
Long Stay: 20 Arshen
---------------------
Disbelieving, I reread it multiple times.
The currency was Arshen—silver coins.
This meant making a man climax would earn at least 2-3 Arshen.
Even servicing just three or four nightly would yield 6-12 Arshen daily.
Two weeks' work could easily amass a gold coin.
My financial worldview shattered.
Since when was earning money this effortless?
Misinterpreting my grave expression, the madam hastily added:
"It might seem low after brothel cuts and taxes—I dislike number games. Once your reputation grows, we'll raise them boldly."
"...Thank you."
Calming myself, I expressed gratitude.
Though raised in slums, I wasn't completely ignorant.
Most city courtesans earned copper wages—my slum rate had been mere 10 Grange.
3rd Floor Ladies at Grace of the Rose clearly enjoyed exceptional status.
"Madam, the contract please. I'll sign."
"Splendid decision!"
Beaming, she presented the contract.
After carefully reviewing the terms, I took the quill.
Inscribing "Rene" would make this irreversible.
My hesitation lasted mere seconds.
This body had already sunk to the depths.
Preserving chastity now would be laughable.
Though my recovery power could restore virginity, I knew better—this flesh was irrevocably tainted.
I neatly signed my name.
Instantly, the madam embraced me radiantly.
"Welcome to our family, Rene!"
Despite her bewitching beauty, she expressed affection unreservedly.
Working beside such a madam would never be dull.
Returning her embrace lightly, I murmured:
"I'm in your care, Madam Rosalia."
Thus, I became part of Grace of the Rose.
The true beginning of my dual life as mercenary and courtesan.