I'll Just Have Some Tea and Go.
I hung up a sign reading "Out on errands" and headed to the Moonlit Lake Brothel.
As night fell, the castle—bathed in deep pink lighting—grew even more dazzling. The moment I stepped inside, a thick wave of perfume assaulted my nose. This place was said to light up the empire's nights brighter than anywhere else, and the lobby was packed with people: esteemed guests drawn to the lake, their escorts hovering nearby, and the brothel's staff bustling about. The clientele spanned all ages and genders—no exceptions. Potbellied male nobles, dissatisfied noblewomen unhappy with their husbands' bedroom performance, fresh-faced young nobles barely out of adolescence. They had all come here to wash away their desires.
One thing united them all: masks concealing their faces. Recognition Jamming Masks. Handed out by attendants at the entrance, these masks made it nearly impossible for anyone short of a grand master to properly discern another's features. This veil of perfect anonymity served as a shield for honor-obsessed nobles to unleash their urges freely. It was one key reason the Moonlit Lake Brothel reigned supreme.
Guests roamed the lobby freely with painted courtesans, men and women alike, without a hint of shame. With such a dizzying array of races and services on offer, jokes abounded that people spent more time in the lobby than in the bedrooms.
The guests' sticky gazes swept over everyone in sight.
"How about the girl from the southern Gregor Kingdom today?"
"Druid Sili has an opening right now."
"Ah, Cromlin's fully booked today. Sorry, sir."
The patrons hunted for partners to sate their cravings, while the staff sweet-talked them into opening their wallets. Escorts glared suspiciously at their surroundings, though lust clouded their eyes too—faint hopes that a pleased master might toss them a woman as a bonus. The strolling courtesans soaked up those lecherous stares with relish.
This was the Moonlit Lake Brothel, the empire's grandest pleasure house.
Not everyone who comes to a brothel is a man, I thought. Back in my old world, there were host clubs too, and here plenty of men catered to noblewomen. Masked ladies shot sly, hungry glances at those men. It was that kind of place—a haven under pinkish-purple lights where people vented their deepest urges.
Nothing seems off, I mused. Wearing a wolf mask like the rest, I scanned the crowd but spotted no anomalies. Madam's urgent summons had suggested trouble, yet the scene looked no different from usual. The brothel's ironclad rule was to carry on regardless, so who knew what chaos might be brewing inside.
"Manager, you're here?"
After lingering in the lobby to gauge the vibe, an attendant rushed over.
"What's the issue?"
"Uh, let's head inside first..."
The tight-lipped staffer led me deeper. With so many ears around, he couldn't spill details casually. I followed along.
Once we slipped into a quieter hallway beyond the lobby, he spoke up.
"A guest in the VIP room is causing a huge scene."
"Crown Prince Astur?"
"No, the VVIP has already left."
"So some other punk's throwing a tantrum?"
"Yes. But he's too tricky for Madam to handle alone..."
Madam?
That's new.
The Moonlit Lake Brothel, repository of the empire's every vice, offered spaces tailored to purge them all. The lobby I'd just crossed was for regular nobles and wealthy merchants—those who could pay for their pleasures. It brimmed with men and women of stunning beauty, equipped to handle even the kinkiest tastes.
Couldn't find someone in the lobby? Head upstairs to pick from those not yet booked for the night, or descend to the basement club—much like back home—where booze and music flowed amid fresh faces. Still striking out? Go home empty-handed. But that almost never happened. Returning unsatisfied was a noble's ultimate disgrace. Even if no one would know... who could fathom their stubborn pride? I sure couldn't.
That was for the rank-and-file. True VIPs entered through a separate door. Their identities were vetted upfront, so incidents were rare.
"Lead the way."
"Right this way."
I trailed the attendant inside, boarding an elevator to the VIP floor. The lobby here put the first floor's pink haze to shame—golden lights bathed everything, cascading from chandeliers overhead. Who'd call this a brothel? An outsider might mistake it for an actual palace.
"It's quiet."
"Soundproofing spells on every room."
"Let's go in."
"Yes, sir."
We passed through the serene lobby and silent corridor, spotting an elderly man stationed there.
"Gradri, I've brought the manager."
"Ah, Manager. Madam's waiting."
"Heard a VIP's kicking up a fuss?"
"Yes. We need your help."
Madam's one-eyed bespectacled secretary, Gradri, flashed a troubled smile.
"Any idea why?"
"The VIP specifically demanded Madam."
Ah...
That explained her call for backup.
"Got it. I'll handle it."
I threw open the door. And—
"No! I'm offering plenty of cash, so why the hell not?!"
A young man, barely past twenty, bellowed with earsplitting force. My eardrums rang. Mana-infused shout—guy had real skill.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Inside: two trembling naked women, the VIP in question, and Madam in her red dress. All eyes turned to me. Relief from the women and Madam; fury from the VIP at this rude interloper.
Short-cropped blue hair like a rushing river, matching blue eyes.
Frierd Ducal House.
The twenty-ish heir. Right, the academy hotshot second son. Fittingly elite. Strutting on family clout, and fixated on Madam of all people.
She'd usually indulge VIP whims.
I glanced at her. A torn fox mask lay in pieces at her feet. She'd unmasked her. No wonder he'd zeroed in.
"Who the hell are you?"
Bottom half barely covered by a white robe, the Frierd scion glared daggers.
"Apologies, sir, but our Madam doesn't entertain guests."
"So what?"
"We have plenty of other charming ladies. Care to spend time with them?"
"Who asked you?"
Brat had some nerve. Still, patience—blessings come to the tolerant.
I removed my wolf mask and smiled at the punk.
"I'm the manager of the little convenience store out front."
"C-Convenience... store manager?"
His blue eyes wavered at "convenience store manager." He staggered back a step upon meeting my gaze.
What? Why so spooked? Met before? Ah, maybe heard from Frierd Duke. We crossed paths in Oscar now and then.
"Yes, manager of DG Convenience Store. It's been months since I last saw your father, the Frierd Duke. How's he faring?"
"H-He's fine. Quite well."
"If he learned his son was causing a scene here, it'd mortify him."
The kid ground his teeth, speechless. Hard to believe this was the same raging beast from moments ago.
"We can end this quietly, no fallout for anyone. Right, Madam?"
"Of course."
Her platinum blonde tresses gleamed blindingly as she flashed a captivating smile—one that effortlessly ensnared men, unintended or not. The punk's face went slack upon seeing it. Every guy who glimpsed Madam's true face ended up like that. Terrifying woman. This was why non-virgins were scary.
"Madam, put your mask back on."
I pulled out the instant adhesive I'd brought just in case and mended the split fox mask.
Effect: Repairs with adhesive, preserving 100% of the original effects.
She donned the restored mask, and the Frierd punk—wild-eyed like a beast in heat moments ago—snapped back to normal. As a mana adept, he regained his senses the instant her allure broke.
"So, sir, what's your plan?"
"I-I'm heading out. Can't do shit like this."
"We'll keep this strictly confidential. Everyone here forgets it ever happened."
All nodded, Madam included behind her fox mask.
"Our apologies, young master. Next visit, complimentary services on the house."
She bowed gracefully, noble-style, lifting her skirt hem daintily. The Frierd heir scrambled into his clothes and bolted.
"Allow me to escort you."
Butler Gradri ushered the VIP out.
"Thanks."
Golden eyes gleamed through the fox mask, curving like crescent moons at me.
"Don't call me for crap like this again."
"But who else could fix this but you?"
Sigh.
Headache incoming.
"Since you're here, have some tea before you go. VIP room's free now."
She gestured to the Frierd punk's recently vacated seat.
"I'll just have some tea and go."