Time to Go Collect Our Players (3)
About a month before Bloom's grand opening, Louis and I were bustling about, hunting down the list of host candidates I'd scribbled onto my roster.
For the record, unlike Kalian, our second target looked like he'd be remarkably easy to recruit.
"That's him right there — the musician who sold off his instrument. I believe the name's Hermes."
At Louis's explanation, I turned my gaze toward the corner of the market.
A long-haired young man stood with both hands raised toward empty air, posed as if drawing a bow across a violin.
There was nothing between his fingertips, yet his shoulders and wrists moved with the exact precision of a string player's fingers finding their positions.
His eyes were hazy and unfocused, and his face was layered thick with exhaustion and quiet resignation.
I let out a dry chuckle and murmured to myself.
"There's the look of a man who's hit rock bottom and kept going."
Louis lowered his voice and added some context from beside me.
"Here's the thing about music, boss — without a patron, you don't survive. Unless some noble or deep pocket pushes you along, you never even get a stage to stand on. But from what I hear, Hermes… genuinely just loved playing."
Louis's eyes drifted toward the young man with the vacant stare.
"Seems he believed that if he just played happily enough, his day in the sun would come eventually. But I imagine he knows better now. The world is never that generous."
I nodded.
"The arts especially so. Without overwhelming talent, you'd better hope for luck — and if luck fails you too, you'd at least better learn to wake up to the sad reality."
I approached Hermes and held out the worn old case I'd brought with me.
"Mr. Hermes."
The young man's hand froze mid-stroke.
His unfocused gaze finally reacted — to the sound of his own name leaving my mouth.
I set the battered case down at his feet.
When I flipped the lid open, an old violin revealed itself.
Hermes's eyes went round as saucers.
"Th-this is… mine…!"
His voice trembled. It was unmistakably the instrument he'd sold off for scraps a few weeks ago, just to keep himself from starving.
The young man ran trembling hands over it in sheer disbelief, as though reuniting with a lover he'd been parted from — and every gesture was steeped in deep, aching regret.
I crossed my arms and put on a friendly smile.
"I'm not giving it back — consider it a loan."
"…A loan?"
"Yes. So work at our establishment and pay it off. Play whatever your heart desires, and clear your debt while you're at it. Those are the terms."
Hermes's head dropped with a dull thud.
Then Louis chuckled softly and threw in his two coins.
"Wow… you hand the man back his instrument AND find a beggar a job. Surely he understands what a stroke of fortune this is, no? But boss, did it have to be this guy? I have my doubts the ladies will take a shine to someone who's sunk this low."
At Louis's words, Hermes's shoulders flinched. His hands shook visibly, and he seemed to have no strength left even to protest.
Perhaps he'd gathered from the conversation what kind of business we were running.
I just smirked and raised a hand to cut Louis off.
"Go easy on him, Louis. What collapsed was his situation — not the man."
At those words, Hermes lifted his head and stared at me with wavering eyes.
It felt like facing a lost little lamb.
"Mr. Hermes, all I'm offering you is a chance. Having sold off something so precious to survive, the world must look a little different to you now, doesn't it? Or is it all still just blue skies and sunshine?"
Hermes's lips parted, but not a single word came out.
He simply clutched the violin tight against his chest, his trembling gaze flicking back and forth between me and Louis.
"Most people in this world never get a chance at all. Looked at that way, you might be a rather lucky man."
"Th… why would you give a chance to someone like me?"
"Oh, excellent question. Well, for one thing, you're quite handsome, aren't you?"
"…Excuse me?"
"And instrumental music is wonderful for stirring a woman's heart. A man who's delicate and warm is in high demand among the ladies. Bloom needs exactly that kind of charm."
"Um… forgive me, but I'm still not quite following. Is this Bloom place essentially the male version of a brothel?"
"Now, now! Watch your tongue! Bloom is, first and foremost, a properly registered, fully legal salon. What we want isn't male companions of the flesh — it's a cultural space that turns human charm into a product!"
I raised a finger and pointed at the violin clutched in Hermes's arms.
"Look — some people make others smile through music, and some offer comfort through conversation and a warm presence. Bloom is a stage where every one of those 'talents' can bloom!"
Louis nodded along, chiming in.
"Simply put, it's closer to a salon than a tavern. You could play for noble ladies, or the daughters of officials might come by for everyday conversation."
I added one more thing with a smile.
"So don't overthink it. We're not asking you to sell your body — we're asking you to sell the charm of the man you are."
"……"
In the end, Hermes nodded and took the hand I offered.
Some scale had been tipping and tipping inside him, I supposed. Whatever else, this had to be better than scraping out a life on the streets.
And for me, it was excellent news.
Hermes was a truly outstanding find.
Best of all, even if he flopped as a host…
…the simple fact that I could just have him play violin in the hall instead.
The sound of a violin drifting through a tavern? Who would dare even imagine it.
That alone would lift Bloom's image far beyond any ordinary watering hole.
Our next target, meanwhile, was a fixture at one of Velos's more ramshackle taverns.
Beneath a battered chandelier sat a young man, idly swirling his wine glass in solitary splendor.
His clothes were cut in the noble style but torn in places, and only a few cheap rings remained on his fingers.
"Must have felt bitterly unfair — handing the succession over to your brother."
"Yes, sir. From what I hear, the younger one, this 'Harlion,' was the more capable of the two. But the family insisted on primogeniture, so he ended up shoved aside."
The advantage of primogeniture is its simplicity. Fewer bloody struggles for power mean the family can maintain itself in stability.
But it carried one fatal flaw.
Conflict breeds among the capable siblings and children passed over — and that festers into outright family discord.
Back in the modern era it was criticized as an outdated custom and all but vanished for exactly that reason, but here we are in something closer to the early modern age.
In other words, primogeniture was simply the unquestioned principle of the day.
I turned my head and stole a glance at the young man sitting in his conspicuously isolated chair.
A swaggering expression — but behind it lurked a bitter shadow he was clearly trying to hide.
"Louis, what was Harlion's specialty again?"
"By his own account, analysis. In fact, a few merchants apparently made a tidy profit eavesdropping on his drunken mutterings at the bar…"
That was a rather intriguing tidbit, and I pulled a chair right up beside Harlion without a shred of subtlety.
As if he'd been waiting for it, the young man set down his glass and looked up at us.
"Hm… since you've gone out of your way to sit beside me, I take it you sought me out knowing who I am?"
Dignity and arrogance mingled equally in his tone.
"You would be Lord Harlion… I presume?"
At my gentle question, he straightened his shoulders and rested his glass against his chin.
"The same. Raised in a baronial house once famous as one of Velos's great players. But the world does not always choose the capable, it seems."
"I agree. Though capable men are precisely the ones who change it."
"Haha, beautifully put. …Speaking of which, are you nobility as well? From your dress I'd say you're no commoner."
"I did belong to a house called Hartwell. Our ties are severed now, of course."
At my words, Harlion's eyes went wide.
He'd apparently realized I held a considerably higher station than his own.
"Forgive my arrogance just now, my lord. I had no idea you were a son of the House of Hartwell."
"No need — speak freely. I'm an illegitimate son of that house, and long since cast out anyway."
"So we are… in the same boat, then."
I nodded, and Harlion seemed to feel an odd kinship.
Just then, Louis burst out laughing with a sharp kekeke.
"You two suit each other wonderfully. One illegitimate son cast out by his family, one second son edged out of a succession fight. Watching society's rejects tip their glasses together — it's a delightful picture."
"Louis? That's not friendly fire support, that's a direct attack on both of us."
"Haha… my apologies. The honesty slipped out."
Hmm… if it's honesty, that's even worse, Louis.
Louis bowed his head to us at once in belated apology, and in any case, it was time to get down to business.
"Let me apologize once more for my employee's rude remarks. Ah — and one more thing, Lord Harlion. That specialty of yours, analysis… I'd love to hear your assessment of our little venture."
"The business, you say?"
In an instant, Harlion's eyes lit up. Whatever his circumstances, the word had apparently struck a chord on pure instinct.
I grinned and gave him a brief rundown of Bloom, and Harlion propped his chin on his hand and began to murmur to himself.
"A hidden space always sharpens the temptation… noble ladies above all will guard their face in public, yet crave deeper pleasures behind closed doors… a fascinating concept."
"And I intend to make that fascinating concept a reality."
"……Allow me one question, out of sheer curiosity. Do you happen to know the gender ratio in Velos?"
"You can safely assume six women for every four men. The Empire as a whole is much the same."
The Empire had waged wars large and small without end.
Naturally, the ones dragged off as soldiers were overwhelmingly men, and many of them never came home.
In short, by modern reckoning, the Empire was a female-majority nation.
And as though I'd answered flawlessly, Harlion's eyes went wide again.
"Exactly. And as you mentioned, my lord, the women of this world accumulate wealth with comparative ease. The dowry system is remarkably well entrenched. Noble ladies hold their own assets long before marriage, with precious few places to spend them beyond luxuries. Gowns, jewels, lavish balls — beyond that, there's almost nowhere for the money to go."
Women working in government offices fared no better. The salaries arrived faithfully, but the avenues for spending them were severely limited.
By bureaucratic regulation, women's late-night entertainments were partly restricted, and banquets were merely arenas for reading their superiors' moods — never places to actually enjoy themselves.
In the end, they sat suppressed while the money simply piled up.
Which meant my little venture called Bloom would be no mere playground — it would be a brand-new paradise for releasing all that pent-up spending desire.
The money was already in their hands. All they needed was somewhere to spend it, and a respectable pretext to enjoy themselves freely.
As though struck by some great revelation, Harlion stared at me blankly for a long moment — then broke into a low laugh.
"Haha… a truly staggering idea. I've always prided myself on my analysis, yet it seems I saw nothing but the tip of the trade in front of my own nose. Unlike me, my lord, you're reading the current of society as a whole — painting a picture of genuinely enormous scale."
Setting down his glass, he went on in a voice laced with something close to excitement.
"This deserves to be called a school of economics in its own right. Shall we call it the economics of Bloom's male entertainers?"
"Host economics… no, let's simply call it player economics."
"Whatever we call it — now I'm curious. What ripples your business will send through the Empire. And what, at the end of the picture you're painting, my lord, awaits."
His voice was, to any listener's ear, brimming with admiration for me.
Which is why I turned, ever so carefully, to glance at Louis sitting right beside me.
'We probably shouldn't mention that a maid cafe sits at the end of all this scheming… right?'
'Yes. I suspect every ounce of goodwill we've built up would plummet straight to zero.'
The two of us had no choice but to nod at each other, minds in perfect sync.
***
The talk had been mostly business, but at some point Eugene and Harlion had found themselves clinking glasses.
And then—
"My lord."
Harlion looked at Eugene with a resolute expression.
"If you take me into your service… as a scribe, or anything of that sort, I promise you work that will never disappoint. I've handled my family's ledgers, and I'm confident with the pen as well."
At those words, the glass in Eugene's hand stopped mid-air.
"A scribe…?"
"Yes — administrative work, contract review… isn't that why you came today and told me all this?"
"No."
Eugene cut the words off flat and firm, and Harlion's face froze in an instant.
Then… why on earth had the man come seeking him out today?
Why feed him all those provocative ideas, why work so hard to seduce him with talk of empires and economies?
It made no sense in Harlion's head at all.
And well it shouldn't have.
"Ah — please don't misunderstand. To sum up: yes, I did come to hire you as an employee of our Bloom."
"Then…!"
"As a host who'll sweep the ladies off their feet."
"…?"
…I'm sorry, what?