A lavish carriage pulled by two dignified horses rolled to a smooth stop before a brothel’s entrance. Its presence alone turned heads—curious onlookers, painted courtesans, and wandering patrons all pausing to marvel at the display of wealth.
Lyndoria, dressed in a finely tailored coachman’s uniform, descended from the driver’s seat, her wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over her disguised face.
Her long weaves were hidden beneath the hat and the cloth binding her chest flattened her figure well enough to pass as a lean, sharp-featured man. She carried herself with a noble air, barely sparing a glance at the startled hostess who rushed to greet her.
“Lady Zelesti has been transported as requested,” Lyndoria declared, her voice cold and authoritative. “Would you be so kind as to summon the brothel keeper?”
The hostess blinked in confusion. “P-Pardon? We weren’t expecting any VIPs this early in the day—”
Lyndoria’s gloved hand flicked impatiently toward the brothel. “Then there must have been a miscommunication on your end,” she said, a sharp edge to her voice.
The girl hesitated, glancing at the gilded carriage. “I… I wasn’t told anything about this. Would you mind telling me her affiliation and the purpose of the visit?”
Lyndoria’s gaze hardened. “Lady Zelesti has had a long trip and is exhausted. Do you think your superior would be pleased to hear you delayed such an esteemed guest with irrelevant questioning?”
The hostess blanched. “N-No, of course not! I—I’ll fetch her at once!” She turned and hurried inside, her flustered movements drawing the attention of the other girls.
Moments later, the brothel keeper emerged—a woman dressed in lavish silks, her painted lips curled into a professional yet skeptical smile. The hostesses exchanged curious glances as the woman strode toward the carriage, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the coachman.
Lyndoria, keeping her posture firm and her voice confident, barely spared the woman a glance. “I am here to deliver the newly appointed courtesan as requested.”
The brothel keeper’s sharp gaze flickered with wariness. “And who, exactly, made this request?”
Lyndoria, recalling Daisuke’s earlier instructions, folded her arms and replied smoothly, “The arrangements were made through an anonymous letter.”
Suspicion deepened the furrow between the woman’s brows. “I wasn’t informed of any such arrangement.”
“Like I told one of your employees, it appears there has been a lapse in communication on your end,” Lyndoria said coolly, her hand resting on the hilt of the riding crop at her waist. “But I assure you, Lady Zelesti has traveled a great distance. I hope you’re not suggesting we turn back now because of an oversight on your part?”
The woman hesitated. Her reputation, her authority—everything relied on maintaining order and prestige. But before she could protest further, the carriage door opened and Lumielle stepped out.
A hush fell over the entrance as the gathered women gasped.
Her beauty was almost unreal—silken locks cascading over bare shoulders, deep jade green eyes framed by thick lashes, lips painted a delicate shade of rose. Every movement, from the graceful descent of the carriage to the slight, practiced tilt of her chin, radiated an effortless nobility.
The brothel keeper’s expression shifted instantly. Whatever doubts she had evaporated as her calculating gaze drank in Lumielle’s form, assessing every detail.
Impeccable posture, flawless complexion, an aura of refinement—this woman wasn’t just a beauty. She was the kind of woman men would ruin themselves for. It was obvious she was sent to replace their current top courtesan who had ripened well beyond her prime.
The brothel keeper barely turned her head before snapping her fingers at one of the girls. “Fetch the general manager. Now.”
As the hostess rushed off, the others broke into frantic whispers.
“She’s unreal…” one of the girls breathed. “Like a goddess descending to grace the likes of us mortals.”
“Where do you think she came from?” another murmured, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen someone move like that—so refined, so poised.”
“She’s not one of us,” a third agreed. “Her elegance… it’s almost aristocratic. Maybe she’s the daughter of some noble’s concubine?”
“Forget that!” a fourth girl interjected. “Samantha’s going to lose her mind. If this woman stays, she’s finished as the top courtesan.”
“Serves her right,” one of the younger hostesses scoffed. “She’s a snake. She had it coming.”
The brothel keeper paid them no mind. Instead, she was already envisioning the mountains of gold Lady Zelesti would bring into the establishment.
Minutes later, the general manager arrived. An older woman draped in crimson silk, her discerning eyes flickering between Lumielle and Lyndoria. Unlike the others, she did not gasp or swoon—but a slow, knowing smile stretched across her lips.
She stepped closer, inspecting the newly arrived merchandise as one might a prize stallion. She took in the delicate features, the perfect balance of innocence and allure, the feistiness in her gaze, the haughty tilt of her chin, the pure and almost celestial aura.
Yes. Their top clients would pay a fortune to break her.
Turning to Lyndoria, the woman’s smile thinned. “Your job is done, coachman. You are no longer needed.”
She didn’t wait for a response.
Instead, she seized Lumielle’s wrist and was already leading her inside. But the moment the doors of the woman’s office closed behind them, her world tilted.
The chair beneath her creaked as thick ropes bound her in place. A strip of black fabric was yanked over her eyes, stealing her sight.
Panic surged in her chest. “What is this?! Do you have any idea who you’re—”
A cool voice cut her off. “You should be more concerned about yourself... in this very moment.”
The air shifted, and though she couldn’t see, she could feel a presence looming over her. Something dark. Something dangerous.
Daisuke.
His voice was calm, almost amused, but beneath it lurked a quiet menace. “Your future is hanging by a thread. You have five minutes to convince me to cut it rather than snap it.”
She swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t dare—”
A gloved hand brushed against her throat, slow, deliberate. Not a touch of comfort—one of warning.
“Try me.”
A shudder ran down her spine. She knew that tone. A man who had killed before.
“I—” Her breath hitched. “…Wh-What do you want?”
Daisuke, Lumielle, and Lyndoria exchanged glances before taking turns questioning her.
“Are the brothels all collectively owned?”
The woman pressed her lips to a thin line. “Yes,” she answered reluctantly. “I oversee them as general manager.”
“Who do you answer to? Who’s calling the shots from the top?”
The woman hesitated, but the silence that followed made her skin prickle. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
Daisuke’s eyes flickered. The Eye of Verity confirmed she was telling the truth.
“How long have the brothels been under the same control?”
“A little over a year.”
Another glance passed between them.
The woman continued, her voice carrying a mix of resentment and fear. “The brothel keepers are just puppets. They act as owners, but it’s all a front. They run the daily affairs and report to me… but even I have no direct contact with whoever’s in charge.”
“Then how do you receive orders?”
“Letters. They arrive through familiars. Sealed with a magic crest. Once read, the parchment burns away.”
“Then who enforces loyalty if interactions are always faceless?”
“…The assassins who dwell in the shadows.”
The air turned heavy as they digested the information. Daisuke leaned back, considering the implications. But before any of them could speak, a muffled voice echoed from the hallway.
“Madame? Are you in there?”
It was the woman’s bodyguard.
Lyndoria gagged her.
A fist pounded against the door.
Then another.
The wood creaked as the man tested its strength. “The door’s blocked. What’s going on?”
A heavier slam.
The trio tensed.
Then, just as the final blow splintered the wood, something scraped in the ceiling above them.
The air vent shifted.
A familiar head popped out, grinning. “Well? What’re you all waiting for?”
Daisuke didn’t hesitate. He ushered Lumielle and Lyndoria into the passage. By the time the guard stormed into the room, sword drawn, eyes burning, only the bound and gagged general manager remained.
“Find them!” he roared. “Search the entire building! They couldn’t have gone far!”