They were in another room of the brothel.
Perfume clung to the walls. The lanterns were low.
Far enough from the others to speak freely.
Close enough for the rot to echo.
Lingxue sat with one leg crossed, eyes half-lidded.
"What an interesting and amusing man," I said.
She didn't disagree.
"You think I found him fun? I did—while it lasted. But he's the type who'd try to control me. Too much."
She glanced toward the door, then back.
"I like it the other way around," Lingxue said. "That's my preference."
Her voice sharpened.
"That sister-in-law of his is clueless. He spoils her, gives her attention, and makes sure she never feels lonely. But it's not for her. It's for him."
"You're very open with me of late," I said.
Lingxue didn't blink.
"I feel like it. You're not an easy man to control—you've made that clear more than once. You're not interested in me, and I'm not interested in you. It was the same with Xu Xiao, but he was easy to play with. You're not. And honestly, I'm glad you're not."
She tilted her head, voice cooling.
"He was better looking than you, so it made it bearable. If only you were handsome and not so plain—maybe I'd try harder. But you're not."
I smiled to myself, quietly.
"Why are we still here, anyhow?" I asked.
Lingxue smiled, legs crossed, voice light.
"To have some fun, of course. It's a brothel."
She gestured lazily toward the lanterns.
"I hired the best women. Even the number one here. Xu Xiao might've had two, sure—but they weren't the best. Not like the three you're about to enjoy."
She stood, smoothing her sleeve.
"You deserve it, Shen. I'll be leaving. Going to find a handsome man to toy with. Someone pretty enough to make it fun."
I watched Lingxue leave.
Then three women entered—stunning, each in their own way.
But the one in the middle held the room.
Her presence was heavier, her aura sharper.
They didn't waste time.
My robes were removed without ceremony.
They paused, surprised.
"You have an amazing body," said the one behind me. "But such a plain-looking face. It makes you more handsome, though—at least to me."
I didn't comment.
The one on the right ran her fingers across my chest, amused.
"No scars," she said. "That means you're either a coward who's never fought… or you're just that good."
The number one prostitute said nothing.
She just looked at me—curious, quiet, watching.
"Tell me your name," I said to the quiet one.
She didn't answer at first.
Just looked at me—curious, unreadable.
Then she opened her mouth.
"Stillrose," she said.
Her voice was low, unhurried.
Not shy. Not performative.
Just true.
"Your real name," I said.
She answered straight away.
"Liraine."
No hesitation. No performance.
Just the name, given like a blade laid flat.
The other two glanced at her, surprised.
Not because she spoke—because she meant it.
"Do you care about looks?" I asked.
She answered without hesitation.
"No. I don't. Men, women—it's all the same to me. I don't judge by appearance. I judge by character."
Her voice didn't rise. It didn't soften.
"This is my job. To please. To pleasure. Most don't care what I think. They just want something easy. Disposable."
She looked at me, steady.
"I didn't choose this profession. But it's what I'm good at."
I nodded.
"Do you three prefer to play a game instead?" I asked. "Instead of plain sex, of course. If that's what you prefer, I won't stop it."
They watched me, curious.
I gestured toward the bed.
"You'll wear blindfolds. You'll be tied. I'll ask questions. If you answer truthfully, you're rewarded. If you lie, you get nothing."
They hesitated.
Then nodded.
I tied them down—loose enough to escape, but not obvious enough for them to know.
Blindfolds followed.
I began with the woman who'd stood behind me earlier.
"Okay, you first," I said.
"Have you ever thought about killing your client?"
"No," she answered.
I studied her breath.
The pause.
The tension.
"That's a lie," I said.
She didn't argue.
Didn't flinch.
Just breathed.
"Correct," she whispered.
I turned to the next. I'd leave Liraine for last.
"Your turn," I said.
"Do you think I'll be able to pleasure you?"
"No."
"Truth," I said.
She didn't flinch.
"How do you know I'm telling the truth?" she asked.
I just smiled to myself.
"Well… you can tell me if my performance is good enough."
I let the silence hold.
"It was correct," she said finally.
"I don't think you can satisfy me."Then I reached for her—slowly, deliberately. My fingers teased her. Not to provoke. To test. She grew wet beneath my touch, breath deepening. Then I entered her. Slow. Deliberate. Letting her feel every inch of me.
I didn't move.
She tried to push deeper.
Her breath caught.
"Wait… aren't you fully in?"
"No," I said. "I'm not."
"Wait… I've never taken this kind of size before."
"It just gives me an advantage over the others," I said. "Doesn't mean I'm good in bed. You agreed. Let's see if I can make you cum."
Before she could finish, I entered her fully without warning. I've lived a long time, so I am very experienced in pleasure.
She spasmed.
Came immediately.
Her breath broke into moans.
I didn't stop.
I kept moving—slow, deliberate.
She kept moaning.
Her body recoiled with each thrust.
Blindfolded. Bound.
Eventually, I stopped moving.
She didn't.
She shifted her hips, took every inch of me she could.
Moved on her own—slow, deliberate.
Her breath broke into moans.
Her body trembled.
She came again.
I didn't speak.
Just let her feel it.
Let her move.
Let her choose how far she wanted to go.
I leaned in.
Whispered near her ear.
She moved against me.
"How am I?" I asked, voice low.
"Am I suitable enough for you?"
She didn't answer.
Not yet.
"You've had men. Women. Even when you didn't enjoy it."
I paused.
"I hope you're enjoying this."
"Should I continue?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Just… keep going."
Her moans came faster.
Her body shook.
She came—more than once.
I didn't speak.
Just held her.
Let her chase what she wanted.
Let her lose herself in it.
"This is the best sex I've ever had," she whispered near my ear. "How are you doing this?"
I didn't answer right away.
Just held her.
Let her feel it.
Then I spoke.
"You women get paid for pleasure," I said.
"But half the time, you don't even get the chance to enjoy it."
"Don't you want fun?"
"Yes," she said. "I do."
Her voice cracked.
"Most men I've been with… they do it for themselves. They finish. That's it.
I'm left unsatisfied.
Even the women—same thing.
It's never about me.
Never about what I feel.
I know my duty.
I know what I'm paid for.
But I want satisfaction too."
"I make it all about you," I said. "It's your lucky day." I kissed her. She kissed me back. She didn't resist. Her breath caught. Her body trembled. I gripped her hair tighter. She moved—chasing sensation. Then I moved with her—harder, precise. My hand found her waist. Held it tight. She gasped—loud, unguarded. Her body arched. She cried out—with genuine pleasure. Not for coin. Not for show. For herself. She trembled—again, again. Her breath broke into moans. Real.
The walls were thin.
They'd hear her.
She wasn't pretending.
Not this time.
And I gave her that. Still trembling.
Breath broken.
Pleasure undeniable.
I held her waist tighter.
Released inside her.
She didn't resist.
She moaned—loudest yet.
Then silence.
Not emptiness. Not shame.
Just breath held in the wake of something irreversible.
"You'd better take responsibility," she whispered, voice close, breath warm against my ear.
"It was a dangerous day."
She smiled—soft, spent, unguarded.
"I'm definitely pregnant," she said.
"And I don't care. It was worth it."
I let the rest fall across her—waist, thighs, skin.
She kept shivering.
Her legs gave in.
She collapsed—flat on the bed.
Still bound. Still blindfolded.
Breathe shallow. Silent.
Then she stopped moving.
Not from fear.
Not from guilt.
She'd passed out.
Pleasure had taken everything.
I went to Liraine next.
Fastened my belt.
"Tell me," I said.
"Do you think I'm more than I seem?"She didn't hesitate.
"Yes," she said. "I've always judged by character. And you—
You carry more than you show."
Her voice was calm.
"You wear restraint like a second skin.
Not to deceive—
To survive.
There's something in you.
Something vast.
Held back.
Held down.
I see it.
A shadow of fire behind your eyes.
Not a wound.
Not a ghost.
A force.
It's tired of being quiet.
"You're telling the truth."
"Yes," she said. Her voice sharpened.
"So what's my reward?"
She tilted her head toward the others—blindfolded, bound, but certain.
"I'm the number one here for a reason."
"What will you reward me for my truthfulness?"
"What do you want?"
"I want Xu Xiao dead."
Her voice didn't tremble.
"He ruined my family. Lied to my sister—said he'd marry her, then left her with a child.
Then he killed them. All of them. For fun.
My sister.
Her child.
My parents.
Gone.
Only I survived.
For a while.
Then I was taken.
Sold.
And then—
I saw him again.
Here.
Laughing.
Alive.
He didn't recognize me.
Tried to buy me.
I refused. Every time."
She didn't cry.
She didn't plead.
She named her truth.
And in naming it, she made it sacred.