The world around Oliver loses all significance—as if it has been reduced to nothingness. The once palpable sense of reality transforms into an empty void, lacking substantial meaning. Only peace and tranquillity prevail, surrounding Oliver's slumber.

     Suddenly, a seismic tremor courses through the ground, startling Oliver from his serene sleep. The comforting calmness swiftly deteriorates, disrupted by the unsettling vibrations. Gradually, a gentle illumination replaces the encompassing darkness, casting a soft glow upon the awakening scene. As his eyelids slowly open, the world reveals itself in its newfound light, greeting Oliver.

"Oli, Oli..."

     Oliver's eyes slowly open, and he immediately sees Gregory. Yawning, Oliver stretches his limbs and feet. He then scratches his head and rubs his eyes as he moves to the bed's edge and sits upright.

     A throbbing weight afflicts Oliver's head. Gazing at a pamphlet in Gregory's hands, the heaviness burdening Oliver's mind lifts off and dissipates. Curious, Oliver looks at Gregory and grabs the paper.

"What's this?" Oliver questioned as he looked at the pamphlet.

     Later, Oliver hastens through the hallways, quickly putting on his green waistcoat over his white shirt. His black shoes thud on the wooden floorboards as he hurriedly secures his vest's buttons. With the pamphlet firmly grasped in his right hand, Oliver moves swiftly towards the lounge, where he finds his friends conversing. Meanwhile, his lover follows closely, trailing on his back.

"Guys! Hey!" Oliver hurriedly approached his friends in the lounge, bolting through the doorway.

"Oh! Good day, Oli!" Sophia greeted.

"Morning! What's in your hand?" Edgar asked.

"Oh, it's something you cannot see. You're only sixteen," Oliver said, putting his hands on his hips.

"But I'm turning seventeen next month," Edgar's lips tightened.

"Nope, seventeen and up only," Oliver shook his head.

"Is that some pamphlets about you having mistresses again?" Sophia guessed, pointing at the pamphlet in Oliver's hand.

"Worse. This type of pamphlet invades my private life," Oliver shook his head as he handed the pamphlet to Sophia.

"Oh..." Sophia gasped as she placed a palm over her lips. "...Oh, my."

"What's the matter?" Sarrah leaned in, peering over Sophia's shoulder to see the pamphlet. "Oh..."

Bethany glimpsed from the other side as she read the writing on the pamphlet. "...Molly-ver?"

"Who had the courage to draw Oliver and me having—" Gregory asked, but Oliver suddenly elbowed him as they both glanced at Edgar. "He- he- hey!—" Gregory chuckled, cutting his words as his eyes laid on his cousin.

"What?" Edgar asked innocently, shrugging as he raised a brow.

"I think I know who's behind this," Sophia's eyes widened.

"Someone mischievous mentioned 'Molly-ver' last night," Bethany glared at Edgar.

"So, is he the one responsible for this vulgar drawing?" Sarrah fixed a stern gaze on Edgar.

     Oliver and Gregory looked to their left. They spotted Edgar sneaking away, tiptoeing his way to the door. Edgar then glanced back at his friends, only to find them staring at him. Startled, he rushed to the doorway, but the three girls—Sophia, Sarrah and Bethany—quickly caught up with his pace and pulled him back.

     Sophia, Sarrah and Bethany encircled Edgar, gently but firmly guiding him back towards Oliver. As Edgar stood before Oliver, he lowered his face and clenched his teeth. He buried his neck into his body as he glanced at Oliver, seeing him crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

"You got something to say, young man?" Oliver raised a brow. "I thought you were my fan."

"Well, some fans do have... such a peculiar way... of expressing their admiration," Sarrah interjected from the background.

"But I'm your fan!" Edgar's voice quivered as his brows arched with fear. "I would never draw something like that about you!"

"Then, explain your drawing about us, Ed," Gregory placed his hands on his waists as he stepped forward.

"I didn't draw that! I swear!" Edgar shook his head, raising his hands.

"Then, why does the pamphlet bear the name 'Molly-ver,' and you happened to mention it last night?" Bethany leaned in closer, her face inches away from Edgar's nose.

"I don't know—" Edgar shrugged as his furrowed brows arched higher. "But all I know is I didn't make that pamphlet!"

"Then, who could have drawn it? Who possesses it?" Oliver questioned as he pointed at the pamphlet held by Sophia.

"...Uhm, perhaps it was made by an old, plump lady who owns a Molly House?" Edgar guessed hesitantly.

"A what?" Oliver raised a brow and stepped back as his lips tightened.

     Meanwhile, around the bustling city of Asbranne, a quaint, two-story building with an elegant pointed roof stood proudly. Its foundation, a blend of sturdy woods and weathered stones, echoed the passage of time, evoking a sense of medieval charm. Hanging above its entrance was a wooden sign that displayed its name—The Asbrannian Molly House.

     Inside the establishment, a lady with grey hair and an extravagant, high-waisted maroon gown pulled a door open and stepped into the room beyond. As she entered, she took a moment to inhale deeply. She then glanced from left to right, scanning the crowds from every corner.

     Fair men, from their early 20s to late 40s, occupied the space within the room. Younger boys possessed slender and petite frames. Meanwhile, others showed strength and muscularity with their broad chests and arms puffed out.

     The men possessed lean and sculpted physiques. Their skin flashed as their tight clothes draped down their shoulders, their shirts partially unbuttoned and cravat ties askew. Sporting undone buttons on their clothes, they conversed and chattered with their seductive, gleaming eyes locked on one another while indulging in sips of crimson wine around the blood-hued sofas.

Meanwhile, the grey-haired lady murmured to herself. "So, I have this Molly House full of men that like men. And Oliver Podeshire likes men. And his nickname is Oli, which rhymes with Molly. So, Oliver plus Molly equals Molly-ver!"

In the meantime, inside Frederick's mansion, Edgar stood with his back hunched, staring at the wall with blank eyes. "Uh..."

Oliver's jaw dropped, raising a brow as he stared at the blank wall. He began to speak but was interrupted by Gregory's laughter. "I..." Oliver uttered.

"Oh! I get it!" Gregory exclaimed and laughed. "Molly plus Oliver equals Molly-ver! Hahaha!"

Oliver joined the laughter as Gregory chuckled loudly. "Hahaha!" they cackled together. Suddenly, Oliver elbowed Gregory and glared at him. "Hey..." Oliver growled. "Err..."

"Oops. Sorry," Gregory scratched the back of his neck.

Oliver took a deep breath and sighed. "...Anyways, Ed. How can you prove that you didn't make that pamphlet?" Oliver turned to Edgar, questioning him.

"Uhm! I guess, check the pamphlet's back? Maybe the owner's signature is there?" Edgar thought.

     Sophia flipped the paper. She gasped, seeing a different signature that didn't match Edgar's name. Sophia took her time to observe and analyze the signature before speaking.

"Ed's right! This is owned by the Asbrannian Molly House!" Sophia gasped. "Trust me, that place is legit! I've been there countless times as a loyal audience member," she smirked, placing a hand on her hip.

"What on earth is an Asbrannian Molly House?" Oliver inquired. "And what do they do there exactly? Just to clarify what I was imagining earlier."

"Uhm..." Sophia didn't respond but blushed instead, lowering her glance.

"Sophia?" Gregory tilted his head.

"I- I- I—" Sophia stammered before hastily excusing herself from the room.

"...How in the bloody world does she know about those things!?" Sarrah exclaimed, shivering and stretching her arms forward.