Virgin Waitress (3)
Buried in debt, huh... Did they borrow a ton of money to start the inn, or take out loans just to avoid going under? Prostitution should've been profitable enough to prevent losses...
"Curious, aren't you? Why we're running prostitution out of an inn."
"Yeah... it's a bit puzzling. No real need to combine the two... And from what I know, you can't legally operate an inn and a brothel at the same time."
"Exactly. It's illegal."
That made it even harder to understand. Prostitution itself was legal. Why risk it all like this... Tax evasion, maybe? Brothels got hit with heavy taxes, so dodging them made sense... but still, fines or jail time from getting caught would cost more than just paying up. Why...?
"This inn used to be my grandfather's. When he passed, Mom inherited it. She was running it alone when she met Dad and got married."
"I see... So it started back with your grandfather?"
"No. Things turned like this after Mom died."
Della's father, the innkeeper, had been a notorious playboy in the south. In his youth, he'd charmed women with his good looks while gambling his life away, until creditors chased him all the way to Bue. He holed up at this inn for a bit and laid eyes on Della's mother. She was a stunning beauty like Della, and smitten, he sweet-talked her with lies and promises until she married him.
Blissfully ignorant, Della's mother soon learned the truth when the creditors stormed the inn. By then, she'd already given birth to Della, so she had no choice but to cover her husband's gambling debts. The inn was booming back then, so it was doable. But he never kicked the habit, dipping into the inn's funds bit by bit every time he gambled. When his fed-up wife locked the safe and cut him off completely, he started borrowing from shady sources everywhere. And this madman even put up the inn building as collateral.
Furious upon discovering it, she argued fiercely with him and suddenly collapsed—dead. Years of pent-up rage had finally exploded.
After her death, the father tried to abandon Della and the inn and flee in the night. But among the creditors was a infamous figure called the Rat, who bought up all the other debts. He sent his thugs to drag the father back, threatening to kill him if he didn't pay. Innkeeping profits couldn't cover it, so the Rat made a proposal.
"That's when we started the illegal prostitution. As long as we dodge taxes, it rakes in cash reliably."
"But if you get caught, it's prison. No offense, but with that much debt, it'd be better to just hand over the collateralized inn..."
"Even giving up the building wouldn't clear it all."
"Ah, damn."
"And the Rat doesn't want the building. He's using Dad to run the illegal operation."
After hearing the full story... sorry, Della, but there was no easy fix. The state wouldn't forgive gambling debts. With the Rat watching, running was impossible, and self-reporting to City Hall would just drag her and her father down. Plus, judging by the Rat's moves, even paying it off wouldn't end it—he'd tack on interest and demand more. That underworld was all the same. One loan from them, and you were sunk in an inescapable swamp.
"From what you've told me... doesn't sound hopeful."
"Right? But what choice do we have?"
"Why stick around? The debt's your father's, not yours. You could start fresh somewhere else."
"Among the collateral... I'm included."
This crazy bastard! Gambling away his own daughter as collateral?! Rage burned white-hot in my chest like the Holy Sword.
Della flinched back at my glare.
It was pure despair. Was Della studying to take over the inn in this hellhole, clinging to a thread of hope...? No, wait. Was she preparing because if her father died without paying, it'd fall on her?
"Della. Are you taking the inn because it's your grandfather and mother's legacy... or to keep paying the debt?"
She gave a bitter smile at my question.
"Honestly... the inn can go to hell at this point. It's as good as the Rat's already... I'm just accepting it since I can't escape."
An unbearable helplessness washed over me. Neither she nor her father had the will or brains to fight this. I'd seen it countless times wandering the world: innocents suffering for others' sins, too numb to even recognize the injustice, let alone fight it.
Her father could rot for all I cared. But Della...
"Della. If a way to escape this place appeared, what would you do?"
"No such way exists. You can never shake the Rat."
"Forget that—what if there was?"
"Even if I ran... where would I go? What would I do to survive...?"
"Assuming you get a job."
Della stared at me silently for a moment. Then, in a trembling voice:
"No... nothing like that will ever happen to me..."
A tear rolled down her cheek. As I opened my mouth, she blew out the desk candle first.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that... Please, get some sleep. I will too."
She lay down on her bedding across the room.
"Della."
No answer. Moonlight filtered through the small window, illuminating her back as I lay down too. Her stifled sobs echoed intermittently through the night.
I woke in the morning to find Della gone. I folded my bedding and headed downstairs. Guests coming off night shifts or waiting for rooms milled about the hallway. In the first-floor hall, a few poked at fried fish—breakfast or killing time till checkout.
No sign of Della. I stepped outside and had a stableboy fetch my horse. Mounting up, I gave the inn one last look before urging it into the street.
I stopped by City Hall to inquire about hires. The clerk handed me a posted notice thick with crossed-out names. In this bustling metropolis with a hot local economy, jobs filled fast—most were struck through. I picked out those seeking inn or restaurant work, weeded out the too-old, and narrowed it to under five. Copied their addresses and left.
I roamed the city meeting them. But mention Rosens and an inn, and they all balked. The location meant unstable pay and risky conditions.
Surprising. Couldn't snag even one hire in this big city for my inn... By the last interview, it was past noon. I'd planned to grab people first thing and meet Mollo, but now I'd wasted the day. Livestock needed tending; one day away was fine, but two was pushing it.
Nothing for it... Head back, talk to Rosens locals again.
Crossing town toward the road to Rosens, the inn from last night—"Horizon's Mist"—came into view. It sat at a crossroads, unavoidable on the way out. As I passed, the door burst open like it might shatter, and someone tumbled out.
A ragged-clothed woman staggered up.
"Della?!"
She turned, gasping. Three men emerged from the doorway. The leader gripped a coachman's whip.
"You fucking bitch... Don't you know how much debt you lot owe? What? Don't wanna whore out? You're not a whore?"
He cracked the whip. It tore across Della's back with a rip. She groaned, collapsing.
"Can't pay? Then even a fine bitch like you turns whore and slave!"
Behind him, Della's father—the innkeeper—stood blankly, watching his daughter get whipped.
Seeing that ignited a holy blaze in my chest. I leaped off the horse and strode forward, snatching the whip mid-swing over her head.
"Who the fuck are you?!"
He yanked, but I held firm.
"Whipping people in broad daylight. Thought I was in the Saint-Gallen slave market or something."
"Mind your business and fuck off. Trying to play hero for a taste?"
The men laughed filthily.
"You guys the Rat's goons?"
My words killed their laughter.
"...Who the hell are you? Some gang punk?!"
"None of your business. I need to talk to this woman—beat it."
I wrenched the whip; he tumbled forward. I hurled it at the charging thugs; they flinched back.
I knelt by the crumpled Della. Blood streamed from the tear in her back.
"Della."
"Sir... go...!"
She shoved me weakly—yet clung to my collar. I gripped her icy hand.
"Remember what I said last night?"
"What..."
"If there was a way to escape, would you?"
She shook her head.
"There's no way. Please, just..."
"No. There is. A way for you to get out of here."
"Go. You're a good man. I don't want you in trouble because of me."
"Hey, you dog-fucker!"
A thug grabbed my shoulder. I twisted his wrist sideways; he spun into the dirt with a snap.
The others froze. Della's eyes widened.
"You gonna sit here like a spectacle, taking lashes like an animal?"
She dropped her gaze to the ground.
"But... even if I leave, where would I..."
"I'll give you work at my inn."
Her teary eyes lifted to mine.
"Handle the hall and rooms. Practice cooking in the kitchen, study too."
She turned slowly. The writhing thug on the ground, the retreating lackeys, the gawking crowd. Then her father, limply watching from the inn door. Their eyes met; he looked away.
Della turned back to me.
"I'll go... I'll follow you, sir."
"Got it."
I stood, stepping on the thug who still couldn't rise. To the hesitant others:
"How much is her debt from now on?"