The sun peeked through the silk curtains, burning a hole through my eyelids and forcing me awake. Blinding lights aren’t the best way to deal with migraines, it seems. Feels like a red-hot poker’s being jammed inside my eye sockets.

I bury myself deep into the soft, warm blanket, muscles aching, stomach churning. Maybe it’s too warm, I’m sweating my dick off and it’s the middle of winter in Peya Vaan. I’m surprised the sun isn’t lurking behind the clouds, hiding its sweet warmth from me like the arsehole it usually is.

It smells different from what I usually wake up to, something like pastries mixed with wine. And sweat. Some of which isn’t mine. Only then am I conscious of the mass sleeping right next to me. I turn with great exertion to see the toned, sweat-slicked back of a woman I’ve never met before.

Well, I don’t remember her if I have. Everything in the room is light pink, the sheets, the carpet, the walls, the roof, the curtains, even the damn windows are tinted pink. Where the hell am I? What the fuck did I get up to last night? I don’t remember much, but I can put the pieces together. Unfamiliar room, unfamiliar woman, familiar hangover. Must’ve gotten blackout drunk at the festival and stumbled into a brothel. Again. Heaven knows what else I got up to.

This brothel seems new. Too pink for my liking but from what I can see of the person sleeping next to me, they’ve got some high-quality whores. To think I didn’t know this place existed. A few more visits might land it a spot on my list of favourites.

I push myself to sit up, searching for my coin purse on the bedside table. Not there. My eyes begin to dart around the room in search of it but the heated stab behind my eyes reminds me to take it slow. Probably tucked safe inside one of the pockets of my clothes which had been strewn around the room alongside a pile of somewhat familiar red and white robes.

Not typical ‘whore attire’ but this seems like one of those fancy places. Which means I should worry less about my coin being stolen and more about how much I spent. A couple gold coins here and there isn’t too bad but spending hundreds on a single place would beggar me. If I spend my monthly allowance so early, Dra’xx will probably grab the nearest blunt object and beat a lesson on savings into me. Not like it’ll stick but that won’t stop him.

I stare out the window, trying to relieve my dizziness, but I make direct eye contact with the sun instead. Wriggling back into my soft cocoon to avoid the sunlight like some sort of vampire, I notice a half-finished goblet of wine on the table next to me. Tempting, but the growl of my stomach warns me not to go near it. I turn around in a show of restraint, trying to ignore the burning in the back of my throat like hot oil. I’m probably going to drop dead soon if I don’t get any water. What a start to the morning.

“Bastard.” I groan to no one while I force my sore body out the bed, looking away from the window above the table. My voice comes out cracked and hoarse, as if even whispering was a strain on my vocal cords. There’s a loud popping noise coming from my joints with every move I make. Although it makes me feel like an old man, it’s satisfying. Or at least it would be if I weren’t so focused on how much my muscles ache with each movement.

I bring my decrepit, wine-addled body over to the pile of clothes near the base of the bed. As soon as I do so, the Peya Vaan brand chill I’m so familiar with creeps around me and sends shivers through my body. Though the sun is out for once, it’s still cold enough to freeze the sticky perspiration to my skin.

My knee pops as I crouch down and sift through the pockets of my clothes. A muted sigh of relief seeps out my mouth when I find it nice and snug in my back pocket. Stupid place to keep it, drunk me, considering the number of vagrants littering the streets. Anyone could’ve stolen it while I was letting my guard down, which only happens when I’m wasted. The soft purple fabric of my coin purse doesn’t feel weighed down by much when I pick it up.

“Aw, fuck.”

It’s nearly empty, save for six gold coins and a couple silvers. That’s my monthly allowance gone then I guess. Fantastic. What’s the date again? The tenth? Eleventh? Well done, me. Good going there. My shoulders slump in resignation. One of those months, ay? Maybe I can get Aia to lend me some again? No, I got my arse beat last time I tried that. Looks like I’ll just have to grow some balls and tough it out.

Six gold coins is still a lot, right? Maybe for commoners, it is. I’ll make sure to take some notes from the people around me. Then again, living off six gold for a commoner would be easy considering how frugal they are, and I’m anything but frugal.

Hm, what to do. I could make it back in a heartbeat if Dra’xx didn’t keep hiding it from me and only giving me a set amount monthly, claiming I’d spend it on whores out my league and on 'feminine liquor which tastes like disgusting fruits’. I like me some apple cider, alright? How is that girly? It’s better than cheap watered-down piss in a mug.

Well, seems like I’ll have to settle for that ‘ale’ until the month’s over. It’s only a few silvers a mug for some of mid-tier places, so I’m sure the low-tier places are even cheaper.

While pondering over my financial situation, the rustling of covers behind me directs my attention. Turning my head back, I make eye contact with a rosy-cheeked, black-haired, unkempt yet beautiful woman. She lifts the covers, so it hides her breasts, which is unexpected for someone who works in a brothel. I’m well-known throughout the city as a horny little bastard, nay, the horniest little bastard the city has ever seen, but despite the alluring sight in front of me, all it arouses within me is confusion and a sense of unease.

She’s giving me warm eyes, the eyes of a girl in love, or more likely, the eyes of a well-trained whore trying to squeeze more money out of my poor, poor little purse. Not today, I’m not that easy to trick… when I’m sober, anyway. But let’s not be an arsehole, she’s only doing her job. And her job just so happens to be sucking dick while sucking money out of my pocket. Talented.

...okay, seems like I’m a tad bitter. I take a deep breath of cold air to calm myself and flash my best, world renowned smile so I can see what I’m working with here. She might not even be a whore for all I know.

“Good morning, beauty. The sun pales in comparison to you.”

Cheesy, enough to make cringe on the inside and my eyes water, but it seems to have quite an effect on her as she hides her face behind the covers, flicking her eyes back and forth from me to the wall behind. She responds in a soft voice, ladylike, formal, shy. Quite far from what my expectations, which were of a smoker’s rasp. Then again, she's probably more of an ‘exotic’ brand.

“Good morning, Jack.”

So, she knows my name. Again, far from my expectations. Never once have I encountered a whore who’d bothered to remember my name, or even remember my existence until my second or third visit. And I’ve never been a brothel where they let me stay the night, which begs the question. Is this woman a whore?

I’ll need to do some probing, but I must be careful. If she is, then this’ll be easy. But if she isn’t, and I ask her ‘Hey, are you some gold-snatching whore I fucked last night or no?’ then I’m in for either an intense amount of guilt or an intense amount pain depending on what type of person she is.

Information I’m supposed to have apparently.

I’d love to leave in stoic silence, but I’d feel bad. And then I’d forget about it, until I remember one restless night and feel even worse about forgetting it. An endless cycle of ever-increasing guilt. No thank you.

Now, how to sound natural while in an unnatural situation…

“Ay, so… about last night,” I’m not sure which accent to go with, so it ends up being an amalgamation of fake noble and fake Peya Vaan commoner. She looks like the type that can only be won over with fancy speak, but chances are, last night, I used my ‘peasant charm’ to win her over. “what’d… what did.” My voice cracks like a boy hitting puberty, possibly because I’m a boy going through puberty, but more likely is I’ve lost my voice. There goes my most powerful, and only, weapon. If only for a couple seconds.

“Jack?”

She looks at me with concern and lowers the blanket. After putting a hand over my mouth and clearing my throat, I continue without thinking.

“What did you think of last night?” Okay, noble speak it is. Now that I’ve blurted the question out in that vernacular, I’ll stick with it. It’s a safe question, which she’ll hopefully answer by telling me what the fuck happened last night.

“L-last night?”

“Mn.” I nod, regretting it as my head is blasted with pain.

“It was… my first time—”

“Not that.” I don’t shout it, but I do say it in quite the forceful tone, though unintentionally. Clearing my throat, I continue in a softer voice. “I meant… how was the festival? Did you enjoy it?”

Now that I think about it, all brothels are closed on the night of the festival, some stupid law where you can't have sex or whatever on the birthday of the Son of Heaven, so she can’t be a whore. Rather, someone who is ignorant about the laws of the Empire, or perhaps someone who intentionally defies them. Considering how the question wiped the nervous smile off her face, it’s probably the latter. How likeminded.

“What kind of question is that? In the name of the Emperor, those bastards…”

Okaaaay, definitely the latter. Seems she has a sob story of her own or something like that. It’s all too common around the Empire, the unjust deaths or imprisonment of commoners for the sake of the nobility’s benefit, or the oppression of peasants by the city guard, or countless other unfair and immoral acts. But what can you do? I’d rather not hear about it personally…

It also seems I was supposed to know she has a distaste for the Emperor. Let’s play it off like an awkward misstep.

“Apologies, it was a foolish question,” in a flash of genius, I find the perfect segue to get her to tell me what the fuck happened to my sweet little coin purse, and maybe about how I know her. “I hope I was able to help you cope throughout the night.”

Now with that question, I’m hoping for a barrage of backstory and exposition which holds the little tid-bits of information I want. Well, no, what I really want is the important bits with all the shit I don’t care about omitted, but that’s not happening. I couldn’t care less about her very own drama novel where she’s the oh so pitiful protagonist, however, I’m going to have to read it.

For all I know, she’s a noble’s rebellious daughter who’s all too happy to go back to daddy so he can try to ruin my life if I offend her in any way, thus I can’t afford to be honest and say I have no clue what’s going on. That is, until I know who she is.

“I do thank you for that, Jack, that dog’s birthday celebration always brings back bad memories, I felt like running from that damned manor was the only way out,” she looks down, thinking what to say next.

A manor, ay? The only things worth calling manors in Peya Vaan are the Cal Mira Manor and… the Rei Ui Manor. Oh, for fucks – please don’t tell me I fucked a woman of the Rei Ui, I don’t want to deal with that shit. Please don’t tell me she wants me to take responsibility and marry her, I’m not becoming related to that bastard!

“Though they don’t treat me poorly, the way they celebrate that dog’s birthday so cheerfully… I had the day off, so I just ran. But the whole city was celebrating the same way, I just didn’t know what to do.”

Had the day off? A servant girl of the Rei Ui? Ha! I’m safe! Probably. If they found out about this, they’d do anything to join our clans. They might forcefully adopt her into their family, and push me to marry her, lest I be seen as unfaithful or a lecher, but that’s a big stretch, quite unlikely to happen. Hopefully. I guess it depends on her status as a servant, let’s hope she’s not a noble-in-exile or something like that.

Anyway, tell me how we met and who you are, and let me be on my merry way. I don’t care about my coin anymore; I just want to avoid responsibility. Like any responsible man, such as myself, would.

“And then we met, right?”

“R-right, I’d just stumbled into the group of people you were walking with, and you split off with me to see what was wrong.”

Group of people, ay? My acquaintances, then. If she saw those rough bastards, I was probably…

“Though, I do wonder, Jack, what happened to your very… intimate speech?”

Fuck. So, it was the peasant voice.

“Ah yes, I tend to be very informal when I am drunk. Apologies if it was… unsettling?”

I don’t know what word to use, so it ends up sounding like a question.

“Drunk? You told me that you didn’t drink.”

Wow, drunk me, you little liar. Think about the consequences for once, ay? And how the fuck did she not notice, unless I carry myself like an expert while drunk, she should’ve noticed the clear signs.

“It was a little white lie. No woman would feel safe being in the middle of Peya Vaan with a drunk man, after all.”

“I see.”

She has a rather dubious expression, but I did well enough, I think.

“I do not drink often, of course, but during the festival last night, everyone was expected to drink.”

Not until you blackout, but hey, I’m always surpassing expectations.

“I guess you’re right, your friends seemed to, as well.”

Friends, huh. It’d seem like that from an outsider’s perspective wouldn’t it.

“Yes, they are the type to get drawn in with the atmosphere.”

It’d be more accurate to say they control the atmosphere, really. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember finishing that deal with them. Well done, me, blacking out in the middle of a potential business opportunity, then leaving to bed a random woman. At least I may have an opportunity to make back a little of what I lost last night when they inevitably come back to lick my boots.

“Anyways, Jack, what are you doing?”

I’m hunched over naked, holding my coin purse. When she woke up, she probably noticed my, most likely, crestfallen expression due to my financial losses.

“Just checking something.”

“Ah, it was a wonder you were able to afford a room like this. I’ve never slept in a bed this comfortable before, even in the manor. How much did it cost, exactly?”

Put up a strong front, Jack, you can do this. It was only… potentially a few hundred gold…

“N-nothing much, really.”

“Are you sure? This is an inn for only the wealthiest in Peya Vaan.”

Uh huh, no shit. Usually, those of the Rei Ui clan, and the Cal Mira Manor I suppose, fall under the category of the ‘wealthiest in Peya Vaan’. So, is she none of those things? Works for me, in that case. It seems she’s but a regular servant girl… who has a grudge against the Emperor… a human? I won’t jump to any conclusions just yet, but it’s likely the case.

“Being born into money has some benefits, I suppose.”

A total lie because it doesn’t. Where there’s money, there’s politics, and where there’s politics, there’s corruption. And although I was born into money, it doesn’t mean anything now. All I have is my crumbling and vague status.

“A wealthy human family in Peya Vaan? I didn’t suppose that was possible these days, considering how hard those dogs are cracking down on us now.”

There it is. Confirmation. I no longer need to keep up that stupid façade, not to a human. It’s not like I have a prejudice against them or anything, they simply have no consequence in the big picture anymore. Association with them will do nothing but hinder me in my goals. But I can empathise with them. That dog Emperor is going to get what’s coming to him, and I will be the one to do it.

I shove my coin purse into the front pocket of my ugly brown wool trousers and put them on along with my undergarments without another word, and following that, my also ugly and uncomfortable tunic. No wonder she thought I was human with these clothes which scream poverty. She knows I’m wealthy now, so it must be a shock to think I’d deign to wear this sad excuse for clothing.

“Do you mind getting my clothes for me?” she asks shyly.

“Sure.”

She may be human, but it’s not like she’s undeserving of basic kindness, like how I’d sometimes let a fly out my room instead of killing it outright. But I guess that only happens rarely. I pick up the characteristic Rei Ui red and white robes and softly toss them next to her on the bed and turn around. The rustling of cloth behind me as she puts them on nearly coaxes me to ogle her like a creepy bastard, but as a gentleman, I’ll have to keep my inner creep under control. My false sense of chivalry won’t stop me from imagining though; my self-control isn’t that powerful.

“Hey, Jack?”

The trembling in her voice is almost unnoticeable but picking up on tiny things like this is my specialty. Somewhat. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, so I’d better brace myself for whatever’s coming next.

“H-hm?”

“This is a weird question, I know, but… do you know my name?”

“Eh? ‘Scuse me?”

I twist my body around to meet a teary-eyed, half-dressed woman whom I don’t know the name of.

“It’s just… you haven’t used my name once… and you… said you were drunk last night, so… you didn’t seem it, you were so attentive and kind to me and you let me speak my mind… but that wasn’t just to get me in bed with you, was it?”

Well, uh, knowing me, it definitely was. And it’s not like I can deny it considering I don’t remember any aspect of her, including her name. It’s probably time to come clean. Shouldn’t have lied in the first place, I’d probably be in a much better position if I told the truth from the start. She's only a human, I shouldn't feel bad for hurting her, right?

“Ha…haha, well, uh, about that.”

My tone is stiff and forced, guilt seeping from each of my words. Looking at the wry expression on my face, hers twists into a devastated one, one of anger and sadness.

“Well, you see, I kinda, y’know, uh, blacked out last night. See, I don’t really, uh, remember… anything?”

Smooth me, smooth. Rehearsing it in my head didn’t do me much good now, did it?

Tears drip down her now rosy cheeks as she bites her lower lip trying to keep them in. She finishes clothing herself, each movement quick and forceful. She stares right into my eyes, probably attempting to kill me with her glare, which is a terrifying thought knowing there are people who can actually do that, and that there’s a chance she’s one of them, however small. Then again, I’d be dead already if she had the power to do that, so I think I’m fine.

My sense of security is snuffed out when she starts speed-walking towards me. Even though she only comes up to my chin, that stare filled with venom makes me break eye contact and look to the floor. For some reason, the air around me feels kinda warm, and I think I know what the reason behind that might be.

“You don’t remember anything?”

Her voice cracks as her throat tightens trying to keep her tears in. I feel extra bad now, but I can’t backtrack and say ‘Ha, got you! I definitely remember your name and everything about you, toodles!’ and then bolt out the room. Or can I? But before I can try that, the truth leaks from my stupid mouth.

“S-sorry, n-no, I don’t.”

I brace myself for a barrage of insults, but it never comes. I take a peek at her face and wish I didn’t. It’s one of utter defeat. The small, forced smile says it all.

“That’s fine, it’s only expected someone of your wealth wouldn’t bother remembering a mere servant girl. You probably thought I was some whore or something, right?”

She says, self-deprecating.

“Funny you should say that, ‘cause—”

Realising my folly, I cut myself off, but it’s too late. Me and my stupid, stupid mouth.

“‘Cause you what, Jack?”

She’s back to angry again. Well, the word angry doesn’t do it justice, and neither can any word in my limited vocabulary. I guess mega-fucking-pissed would work. Quite well, actually.

“I didn’t! I totally didn’t think you were a whore when I first woke up, honest—”

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“YOU’RE AN ARSEHOLE!”

A resounding slap across my cheek knocks me down on my arse. Loud ringing overwhelms my senses and a searing pain envelops the right side of my face. I can hear the woman’s loud footsteps as she opens the door and runs out the room, probably crying.

I think I got a good bit of karmic retribution there, that slap was probably capable of breaking every damn bone in a normal person’s face. The bitch is a cultivator, not a strong one, but still far above the average person in strength. Luckily, I’m a little above average myself, but I’m still no cultivator.

My headache just got a million times worse, and my day too. I lost most of my money, pissed off a Martial Cultivator of the Rei Ui, and probably caused friction between our Manors. Nice going, me.

Now, there was a half-finished goblet of wine on the table, wasn’t there?