V.I.P. Special Staff Recruitment
A few days earlier.
The Imperial Capital of the Empire.
In the grand conference hall of the glittering Imperial Palace, a heated debate was raging over the First Prince's declaration that he intended to head for the North.
"Your Majesty! No matter the circumstances, for His Highness the First Prince to personally travel all the way to that freezing, uncivilized North—absolutely not! It must not be allowed!"
"Indeed, Your Majesty! That Your Majesty already granted leave for that wastrel Eighth Prince to squeeze money out of the North and build bathhouses or drown himself in pleasure is one thing. But for His Highness the First Prince—the Empire's next sun—to set foot on that vulgar, dangerous front line is an entirely different matter!"
The corrupt nobles frothed at the mouth in opposition.
Behind their bulging veins and raised voices lurked an ugly truth.
It galled them that the North's money stream had slipped into the hands of the Eighth Prince and a handful of opportunistic nobles without giving them a chance to invest—and they dreaded the thought of the First Prince going north himself and monopolizing every last scrap of that profit.
"Moreover, it is a savage land where demonic beasts could burst forth at any moment! If he must go, he ought to take a large detachment of the Imperial Guard and place the entire area around the Grand Duchess Castle under military control first!"
Inside the noisy chamber, seated to the right of the Emperor at the head of the table, First Prince Arzen opened his mouth with a gentle smile.
"You propose we mobilize the army to seize control of the Grand Duchess Castle."
"…Your Highness, that is only out of concern for Your Highness's precious person…"
"As I have said before, please do not fret over such trifles. If we move the Empire's regular army merely so I can go admire a bathhouse my little brother has built, how laughable would the royal houses of other nations find our Empire? Word would spread that our Imperial House is a pack of cowards terrified of the North."
"Th-that is…!"
Arzen leisurely swept his gaze around the conference hall and continued.
His distinctive softness eased the atmosphere like a sigh of silk.
"Haha! I am grateful for your concern. But my reasons for going are nothing so special. I wish to see the face of a younger brother toiling far from home, and, as an older brother, to personally inspect and scold whatever extravagance that imperial headache has dared to indulge in beyond his station."
Arzen's eyes curved in a faint smile.
"And while I am at it, I shall soothe my fatigue in those famously renowned northern hot springs. Which is precisely why I would feel rather embarrassed to bring an army along. I hope you will understand."
The excuse of an older brother going to admonish his sibling—with a little rest and recreation thrown in.
Even the corrupt nobles could only murmur, "Well, if that is the case…" and give their consent.
Insisting he still needed an army after that would only expose their own cowardly insides.
"Hahaha! Arzen is right a hundred times over!"
The Emperor on the throne laughed heartily and chimed in.
"An army for a mere hot-spring bath? What nonsense! Arzen, go see what that wastrel son of mine is up to and report back."
"I shall keep it in mind, Your Majesty."
Arzen bowed his head with impeccable courtesy.
The nobles who had opposed him fell silent as men who had swallowed honey, casting furtive glances at one another.
And so Arzen climbed into the carriage bound for the North.
Back to the present.
The underground secret room of Viola's tavern.
"Slurp, slurp… Ahhh."
Chloe sat on Viola's lap, sucking banana milk through a straw with noisy contentment.
Both of them had just come out of the bath; their faces were soft and glowing with fresh color.
"Our Chloe, after a bath you practically shine~"
"You look way prettier with the makeup off too, Unnie. Not like some ajumma."
"…My, my, listen to that mouth. You little cutie."
The two women rubbed cheeks and giggled like true sisters—no one would ever guess otherwise.
I sat on the sofa across from them, chin propped on my hand, watching the whole scene.
Yeah, they're ridiculously pretty.
Our Chloe's going to be a total stunner when she grows up, too.
"Hey. You two are getting along suspiciously well."
"Obviously. We're super close. So? What's the matter this time, Your Highness?"
Viola asked while combing her fingers through Chloe's hair.
"You were the one who said the First Prince is coming here. I want to talk about that."
At my words, Viola nodded.
"Mm, so our prince is thinking of inviting them to the bathhouse?"
"Yeah. But there's a problem. The facilities are gilded and glittering down to the last tile—but the substance to put inside them is lacking."
I scratched my head.
"It's supposed to be a V.I.P. zone. We can't have the crown prince's party just sit in a tub, boil themselves, peel a couple of eggs, and leave. We can't scrub them raw like commoners either. We need some high-class service that knocks their souls clean out of their bodies while we treat them like royalty."
Viola hugged Chloe tight and agreed.
"Mm, you're right. Just a bare tub would be a little bland. Nobles from the Imperial Capital are basically pickled in pleasure already—you have to satisfy all five senses before they'll open their wallets and drop their guard."
"Five senses?"
"Yeah. Top-tier cuisine for the tongue, entertainment for the eyes and ears. And… something special like a massage that melts the fatigue right out of their bones."
"Oh! Massage!"
That was it!
Hot springs and massage—classic combo!
If we could melt Big Brother and those nobles with otherworldly hand skills, they wouldn't even think about finding fault, right?
I hurriedly asked Viola.
"Anyone you know who's ridiculously good at massage?"
Viola shrugged.
"Well. If we're talking about the art of kneading a body soft and leaving it boneless… wouldn't the people from the brothels be the real experts?"
Fair enough. In this barren North, a professional masseur wasn't exactly a common career path.
"So do you know a good place? Recommend one."
"Your Highness. I am not the sort of person who frequents those establishments, okay? I don't know either."
"The North's top information broker doesn't even know that much?"
When I grumbled, Viola's pride seemed pricked; she tossed me a subtle hint.
"Well, I've never been myself, but I do know which high-class brothel charges the nobles the most outrageous prices in this territory. It's called the Red Rose. Anyone from there should suit even the picky tastes of nobles from the Imperial Capital pretty well."
"Yeah? Great. Tomorrow I'll start asking around the territory, including that place."
Time to hire some special staff for the V.I.P. zone.
The next day, at the annex of the Seolhwa Grand Bathhouse.
"All right, come in one at a time."
Chloe and I sat side by side in the interviewers' seats.
Chloe was peeling a roasted egg beside me and playing the part of interviewer with absolute seriousness.
Clack.
The first applicant entered.
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness."
A subtle, refined scent of lilies. A woman in a silk dress that was both demure and elegant enough to flatter every curve of her figure offered a graceful bow.
I could tell at a glance.
She was from the territory's finest brothel Viola had mentioned—the Red Rose.
"Oho."
Not vulgar in the slightest; an air of genuine luxury. Exactly the elegance and poise we needed if we were going to handle the high-nosed Imperial Capital nobles in the V.I.P. zone.
"Your qualifications look excellent. You'll be loosening the knotted muscles of V.I.P.s, though—any massage experience?"
"But of course. Every noble who has entrusted their body to the delicate hands of our staff has experienced heaven itself."
The woman answered with a soft, graceful smile and a curve of her eyes.
Mm. Perfect. Having one or two talents like her in the V.I.P. zone would make those noble bastards ecstatic.
I was about to stamp the approval seal with a satisfied smile when—
Thwack!
"Aaagh!"
Chloe, sitting beside me, kicked me hard in the shin under the desk.
"Hey! What was that for?!"
"Wipe your drool, Your Highness! You're just picking her so you can fill your own pockets of selfishness!"
Chloe glared at me with axe-blade eyes and jabbed a finger at the woman.
"Rejected! That perfume's so strong it'll make the whole bathhouse stink!"
"My, my, what a cute little miss. I always remove the scent when I work…"
"Who are you calling little?! Your Highness, throw that woman out right now! Or I'll bind her up tight with my threads!"
Chloe raised her fingertips and crackled mana threads into existence. I broke out in a cold sweat and hurriedly soothed her.
"W-wait, wait! Fine—change of interview method! We'll do a practical test to see if she can actually loosen muscles! Give my shoulders a try!"
Still wearing that elegant smile, the woman glided over and stood behind me.
"Now then, Your Highness. Please relax."
Two hands that looked slender and soft settled lightly on my shoulders.
And then—
"Urrrghhh…"
An utterly undignified sound slipped from my mouth.
Her hand skills were insane.
Shoulders stiffened by stress melted like cotton candy, and my body felt as if it were floating up onto a cloud.
I slumped into the chair with half-lidded eyes, dripping into a puddle, wearing a completely idiotic grin.
"Aaaah… this is heaven. A little more on the right…"
Thwack!
"Aaagh!"
Right then, Chloe kicked me in the shin under the desk again.
Déjà vu?
"What now?!"
"Wipe your drool, Your Highness! Your whole face has gone slack! You're clearly using the massage as an excuse to indulge yourself! It's completely obvious!"
Chloe glared at me with pure contempt in her axe-blade eyes.
"Ahem, ahem! This is just how practical tests are done."
"Yeah, right."
Doing my best to ignore Chloe's scorching stare, I cleared my throat and asked the woman,
"Right… hand skills are a pass at this level. But there's one problem."
"What might that be?"
"What if the guests get rough? Can you handle them yourselves?"
My bathhouse might not look like much, but it was a wholesome establishment.
Different zone or not, children came and went—we couldn't just let people do whatever they pleased.
Which meant we had to prevent the unfortunate scenario of guests getting worked up during a massage and jumping the staff.
At my question, the woman laughed lightly—hohoho—and clapped twice.
Clap, clap.
Bang!
The interview room door nearly flew off its hinges as two women strode in.
Women… right?
They looked well over two meters tall.
Their faces were even more rugged and intimidating than old man Hexion's.
The first woman covered her mouth elegantly as she spoke.
"These are the exclusive bodyguards of our Red Rose. Any troublesome guests who cross the line will be gently… corrected by these girls. Of course, this is Your Highness's establishment, so only with your permission."
The towering women cracked their neck bones with heavy pops.
Oof. Not a single problem there.
"…Okay. Confirmed. Permission granted."
I gave a thumbs-up.
"You're hired!"
Even Chloe seemed to acknowledge that monstrous physique; she quietly nodded.
Next came the second applicant.
A gloomy-looking man with a battered lute slung over his shoulder walked in.
"A musician? We do need someone to play in the V.I.P. lounge. Play us a song."
The man plucked his lute and began to sing.
"Aaaah~ the north wind blows~ my wife was eaten by a demonic beast~ my children froze to death~ why is my life so fucking miserableeeee~"
An utterly wretched, soul-crushing traditional northern ballad.
Before we knew it, Chloe and I both had red rims around our eyes and were sniffling.
"Hic… that's pretty sad…"
"Sniff, mister… that's really rough…"
However.
"Rejected!! Next!!"
You can't come to a bathhouse and listen to funeral-home background music! We'll all get depression!
Still, he was pitiful, so I stuffed a generous interview fee into his hands and sent him on his way.
Next, the third applicant.
This time a former mercenary uncle walked in—massive as a bear, with a huge scar slashing across his face.
"You look pretty scary. But we're a peaceful bathhouse. We don't need knife-hands."
"…I am tired of seeing blood. I simply wish to work somewhere warm and peaceful."
Even his voice sounded like it came from a cave.
"Hmm. Well, we're short on people to fold towels. Want to try folding one?"
I tossed him a towel. The bear-like man began folding it with his enormous hands, fingers surprisingly delicate.
One minute later.
"…Whoa."
From his fingertips, a single towel had been reborn as a swan.
It was so precise it looked ready to take flight any second.
"You. Locker-room manager—hired. Start folding towels tomorrow."
You couldn't put women or slender men in charge of the nobles' locker rooms.
With a mug like his, most nobles wouldn't even think of starting trouble.
"…My thanks."
The man ducked his head, a shy flush coloring his cheeks.
Next, the fourth applicant.
A cook uncle walked in wearing a blood-spattered apron.
"I may not look it, but I'm the master of northern snowfield wild-boar cuisine!"
He confidently lifted the lid of a huge tray.
"Urgh!"
Sitting whole on the tray was a wild-boar head—and its eyeballs were staring straight at me in the most grotesque plating imaginable.
"…Is this actually food?"
"Have a taste, sir!"
I pinched my nose and carefully sliced off a piece of meat, popping it into my mouth.
"…!!"
Holy hell. It melted on the tongue. The juices exploded.
With better ingredients this would be absolutely insane.
Most nobles had already eaten every common dish on the market, right?
Novel, unusual food like this would be in even higher demand.
"Hired! Effective immediately as V.I.P. head chef! One condition—we're going to fix that plating!"
"Yessir!! Boss!!"
And finally, the fifth applicant.
A man with sleekly slicked-back hair and a carefully groomed mustache stepped in.
"A pleasure, Your Highness. I am Jack, a dealer who used to run a small board-game parlor in the back alleys."
"Ah. So you're the boss of a crooked gambling den."
I folded my arms and asked. Jack grinned slyly.
"Haha, crooked? I merely… adjust the odds a little. I heard you intend to open a small card-game room in the V.I.P. lounge."
Not a gambling den—just a game parlor.
It wasn't as if we had arcade machines around here. We had no choice.
"That's right. I plan to offer wholesome card games so the noble lords from the Imperial Capital don't get bored. But there's a condition."
I leaned forward and whispered.
"While they play, make them feel that thrilling rush of victory like they've become kings of the world. And at the same time—very naturally—can you strip their pockets down to their very souls?"
We provide fun entertainment; of course we take a cut.
Jack's eyes narrowed like a fox's.
He flicked his fingers. A card shot from his sleeve, spun through the air, and landed snugly in his hand. The ace of spades.
"Imperial Capital bumpkin nobles? I can have them laughing and popping champagne in delight while their carriages and even the deeds to their estates end up sitting on my table."
"Bwahaahaha!! Hired!! You're the main dealer!"
When every interview was finished, the special staff assigned to the V.I.P. zone lined up before me.
I stamped the contracts and addressed them.
"Listen carefully, all of you. I'll pay you well enough that you won't complain. Tips are yours to keep. However."
I rested a hand on Chloe's shoulder beside me.
"If you cross the line or cause trouble without my permission, my reliable knight escort here will hang you by the neck with invisible threads—so crawl accordingly."
Poke. Poke.
I jabbed Chloe in the side.
Embarrassed, she manipulated her mana threads.
But she was a mage, after all.
The staff snapped to attention and gulped hard.
"Our goal is only one."
I turned my gaze toward the window.
The eye of the great storm that would soon crash down upon this North.
"No matter who comes, knock their souls clean out and pickle them in pleasure and comfort. Make them want to come back again."
I grinned wide.
"Show them the scorching taste of pure capitalism. Understood?!"
"""Yes, sir!!"""