Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 008
Chapter Title: Prostitution Studies
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To be honest,
This four-eyes has zero talent for business.
Just watching how this shop, the South Gate Tavern, had been limping along was a sight to behold.
Forget the shitty naming sense for a second.
The drink lineup was already a total disaster.
Fade-and-forget bland beer with just a whisper of hops.
Some mystery rotgut that's basically industrial alcohol.
And straight-up water from who-knows-where, water quality not guaranteed.
The snacks? Even worse.
Jerky tough enough to dislocate your jaw.
Soggy peanuts soaked through with moisture.
And some mystery slop that tastes like someone dumped cigarette ash in it.
Selling this crap for money? No wonder there were no customers.
Customer service?
"Got any girls here?"
When a customer hesitantly asks,
This four-eyes puts on the most uncomfortable face in the world,
Like he's sending off his own daughter to be married, and sighs heavily.
"......Wait a moment."
Zero enthusiasm. Not even a speck.
Can't cook, can't sell girls. Total useless freeloading hack.
Just keeps the door open and sits there with his mouth agape under a persimmon tree, waiting for fruit to drop.
So all day long, flies buzzing around,
And only after peak time at 10 PM do two or three groups of drunks finally stumble in. That was it.
But,
"Hey! More beer here!"
"What the fuck is this? My teeth are gonna fall out!"
"Shut up, you idiot. We came to fuck girls, not eat."
Tonight, from early evening, the vibe was different.
The heat from the men packing the first-floor hall.
Glasses clinking everywhere.
And nonstop dirty jokes and laughter exploding.
All thanks to yours truly.
"......"
Behind the counter, the Master was pouring beer nonstop.
Sweat beading on his forehead,
Glasses fogged up from the steam.
No cute waitress around to flirt with,
He's swamped digesting the flood of orders, looking crazy busy,
"Gulp gulp."
And of course, I'm just spectating. With a nice cool glass of water.
Me working at my age? Child labor law violation?
Of course, no such kid-protection laws in this backwater world,
But whatever? It's my shop, my word is law.
"Orders are piling up, hurry it up!"
"......Shut up."
The Master snapped while roughly wiping a beer mug.
But the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. He wasn't hating it.
Well, yeah, customers suddenly flooding in overnight? He'd be thrilled.
Drooling pre-cum all over, right?
"Even after comping the first round as promised..."
The Master glanced at the ledger.
"Sales are... three times normal."
"Obviously."
I propped my chin and chuckled.
"Free drinks are just bait.
One leads to wanting two, and once the booze hits, they crave salty snacks and order those."
Beer costs next to nothing to make.
Instead, I jacked up the prices on those tasteless snacks just a tiny bit.
Jo sam mo sa in the end. They love the freebies at first,
But when they see the bill on the way out, they've spent more than usual. That's the system.
"Everything's great, but Leon."
"Yeah?"
The Master furrowed his brow.
"......Explain."
"What?"
"Why the hell does it say I'm remarried to Rinea?"
"Oh, that?"
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Congrats on the late marriage? Daddy?"
"......"
The Master's face turned red then purple.
He glared at me like he wanted to kill me.
"Don't get serious. It's just marketing."
"......Marketing?"
"Storytelling, they call it."
"What's that..."
I pointed at the hall with my finger.
"Look at those guys. Say half came to fuck girls,
The other half came to chew on gossip."
What fun is there in this shithole slum?
No internet, no streaming.
By this world's standards, can't even afford a play.
Busy scraping by day-to-day. Lives full of drudgery.
The harsher life gets, the more stimulation people crave.
Whether booze, girls,
Or someone else's misery and scandals.
"So toss 'em some chewable fodder.
A crippled whore and a stuffy tavern owner's fiery romance.
What better snack than that?"
Especially since the real snacks taste like shit.
One-time hype, but gotta sell it for the opening buzz.
If it bugs you, learn to cook better.
"And, old man, no conscience?"
"......?"
"Fucked her senseless till she passed out,
Then no responsibility? Hit it and quit it? You animal."
"...Don't spread misunderstandings."
He sighed in resignation and twisted open another beer keg.
"......Do what you want. Rumors are out anyway."
That was when.
Bang!
Someone slammed an empty glass on the central table.
"Hey! Boss man!"
The guy from the construction site midday.
Already buzzed on free beer plus extra rotgut, face red as a baked sweet potato.
"Drank the free booze, chewed enough snacks!
Where the hell are these amazing girls you hyped?!"
He staggered to his feet.
"New clothes this, new clothes that—all bullshit?
Show us the goods if you want our money!"
Hostile vibe.
The guys around chimed in, "Yeah!", "Bring 'em out quick!"
The Master pushed up his glasses.
That same uncomfortable, annoyed look,
Probably about to say some deflating "wait a sec."
"Old man, you pour the beer."
I patted the Master's thigh and hopped off the chair.
Time for the pro to step in. You horny bastards.
"Whoa, big bro! So impatient!"
I grabbed a rag from the counter hook and slung it over my arm.
Then scurried over, blocking the guy's path.
"Outta the way, rat. I'm looking for the boss..."
"Nah, I'm his son! You saw me earlier."
I put my hands on my belly,
And bowed a super polite 90-degree customer service angle.
"Thank you for waiting! I'm Leon, the South Gate Tavern's cutie pie!"
"......"
Who've you ever seen with service this slick?
The guy looked stunned. Can't miss the opening.
"Took a bit to prep. They went all out on the primping."
I smoothly grabbed his arm, escorting him like VIP.
"Come on, this way. Taking you to a second-floor room."
"Uh... huh?"
"Room for three more too, so hurry up and follow.
First hole of the night's the freshest, right?"
The guy unwittingly followed my lead toward the stairs.
Felt the Master gawking slack-jawed behind, but ignored.
Spotlight's mine now.
I giggled, gripping the stair railing.
Lowered my voice to the guys following, like sharing secrets.
"Tonight's prime cuts. I guarantee.
Beat sis? Her pussy's in peak shape today...
Outfit about to burst, had to resew it myself."
"Ooo..."
Anticipation lit their eyes.
"And Lulu sis? Cleaned and trimmed her bush all pretty down there..."
"Heh heh... Even trimmed?"
Not just showing rooms.
Plant the hype, inflate the fantasies.
That's customer service basics.
Creeeak.
I flung open the creaky wooden door to the second floor.
And hollered triumphantly.
"Sis! Customers are here! Greet 'em!"
That instant. The dim second-floor hall,
With faint incense wafting, unveiled a new scene.
Same time.
A place utterly opposite the rowdy heat behind South Gate.
City's north side, noble district.
The grandest marble mansion's second-floor terrace.
Clink.
White porcelain cup and saucer chime clear and pure.
In the cup, top-grade Darjeeling supplied only to the royals.
Aroma so rich it was dizzying, tickling the nose.
But to Sharl, just bitter water.
She set down the cup with a deep sigh.
"Miss, is the tea not to your taste?"
Her personal maid standing by asked cautiously.
Sharl shook her head.
Stirring the cup with a solid gold spoon, she propped her chin.
"No. Just... bored."
She gazed down from the terrace.
Gardeners had trimmed the topiaries perfectly round all morning, no inch off.
Marble floors spotless, not a speck of dust.
Passing servants silent as shadows,
Even the canary in its cage chirped politely.
Everything perfect.
And everything suffocatingly dull.
"Bored."
Sharl muttered.
"Etiquette, reading, music... All of it, so tiresome."
"That's the life of a noble lady. Elegant and refined..."
"Ugh... Even that lecture bores me."
Sharl pouted. Maid's nagging flowed past her ears.
Her gaze went beyond the garden,
To the distant southern sky.
Where sun set, darkness thickening.
She fiddled unconsciously with her finger.
The ruby ring, cleaned to its original gleaming red.
[ ...I'll give it a try. ]
That boy from the filthy slop bucket.
Covered head to toe in shit, but eyes unbowed—that slum rat.
Name was...
Right, Leon.
"......"
Strange.
That day's memory should be horrific, stinking, repulsive.
A place no Kaintrea blood should step foot.
Yet why?
This spotless perfect mansion paled
Compared to that odd thrill felt before that dirty sewer.
"Mari."
"Yes, miss."
"I wanna go out."
Maid Mari nearly dropped the teapot in shock.
"O-out? Without the family head's permission? No way!"
"Keep it secret from Father."
"M-miss! Disaster! If caught, I'll be caned..."
"Won't get caught. Just shut up."
Sharl jumped up.
Stood before the huge mirror in her terrace-connected room.
"Oh... And clothes."
She grabbed her skirt hem and twirled.
Lace dress bloomed like petals.
"Get me commoner clothes."
"Whaaat?! Commoner rags? How can you wear such lowly—"
"Told you, it's a secret."
Sharl tugged her dress hem.
"Go out in this, rumors fly before I hit the gate.
Father hears in no time."
"Th-that's true, but..."
"So hide it. My status, my name."
She eyed her mirror reflection, narrowing her eyes.
"No one recognizes me? That's a real secret."
Mari looked woebegone, but
Knew better than anyone she couldn't sway her young mistress's stubbornness.
Finally fetched a worn linen dress maids wore on off-days,
And an old cloak from the gardener's son.
Swish.
Finest silk dress pooled on the floor.
Rough stiff fabric wrapped her delicate skin instead.
"Ugh... Itchy."
"...Told you. Lowly clothes."
Sharl squirmed.
Unfamiliar, unpleasant against her skin.
Damp dust smell over her usual soft fragrance.
"...Fine. Bearable."
Sharl's lips curved up before the mirror.
Shabby, pathetic look.
Yet paradoxically, freer than ever.
"But miss... Where to?"
To Mari's question, Sharl didn't answer right away,
Stepped back to the terrace.
Cheap clothes? Air felt colder than before,
Slight chill prickling her skin.
Sharl gripped the railing, pointed to the darkened southern city.
Streets tangled with vice, desire, filth.
"Thinking South Gate."
"Eek! No way! Dangerous!
Swarming with slum rats! And at night..."
"Quiet. I decided."
Sharl smirked.
Far from a girl's innocent smile.
As if that day,
The stench of the sewer-crawling boy clung to her.
Her expression sly,
Oddly twisted.