The afternoon seemed to have passed by in a blur—at least, that's how she felt. No real solution came to mind; she thought about escaping through the window at the tavern while waiting for her client. However, this seemed like a highly risky venture, The would be alone on the street, a street where what awaited a young girl like her, wandering alone in the dark?

Yet she was not willing to resign herself to her fate. She had to remain unnoticed by the other girls, but at the same time, she had to do everything in her power to find a way out.

So that evening, she joined the other well-dressed girls, stepping out the door as the eighth one, her light hair slightly tinted with the mandatory red dye. Accompanied by bodyguards, they set out on the dim, deserted Perubian street. A girl carrying a water jug passed them by without even glancing at them, but Dina saw her blush just at the mere presence of the red-haired girls. She was a simple peasant girl in a clean white apron, with her hair braided. Dina involuntarily furrowed her brow. How indescribably she envied everyone who still had a chance to become a respectable woman!

One of the bodyguards opened the door to the tavern, from where the sounds of revelry and coughing filtered out. Dina knew that if she didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for herself, it was better not to look up even once while passing through the tables of the drunken, swaying men.

"Look at that little kitty! She is a good one, right?" A drunken shout and disgusting, slobbering laughter.

The bodyguards exchanged a few words with the innkeeper, then each girl was escorted to a separate room opening from the gallery.

Dina stepped inside, the lock clicked shut behind her. It was completely dark. Her fingers reached for the faintly outlined candlestick, then found the match lying beside it. She lit all three branches. She stood in a simple room with a wooden floor, furnished only with a small table, two chairs, a basin and a pitcher of water, and a bright yellow French bed with a canopy. She quickly hurried to the balcony opposite and looked down at the inn's courtyard, surrounded by a tall, whitewashed clay fence, like a fortress. A gate at the right edge of the fence lead who knows where, seemingly into the dark wilderness. Could it be open? She looked down from the balcony, but the height made her dizzy.

Despair overwhelmed her, and she sighed. Even if she managed to escape, where could she go? Where could she find refuge at this hour of the night? And during the day? She shook her head. She was alone in every possible sense.

Suddenly, a familiar, gasping, female laugh filtered through from the open balcony door of the neighboring room, followed by a male voice, hungry and biting with lust. She quickly left the balcony and stared at the double bed with a drooping mouth. She took off her outer garments, her long green velvet dress leaving only the short, lace-trimmed nightgown, she lay down on the bed, covered herself with the blanket, and even pulled the canopy around the bed. She turned on her side. Her eyes fixed on the door, and she waited.

Maybe this client will be drunk enough to fall asleep. Maybe he won't even notice her. Yes, it was dark enough, and Dina, like a thin, dark shadow, like a little nothing, would somehow make it until morning at the edge of the bed.

She just waited, lost in her thoughts. There were some girls in the brothel who believed they owed Harod gratitude, but Dina hated him. The man sent them out on the street every single day. Often, he would loiter nearby, directing them from the background to wave or speak to nearly every passing man, whose first reaction would tell them whether the deal was going to happen or not. The girls were never allowed to keep money on them; the usage fees were collected by Harod in advance and immediately handed over to one of his bodyguards. Harod also provided for them, though he never went overboard with the quality of the food or the stylishness of the clothes. If they needed something specific, they could only turn to him—of course, such things were never free. The half-breed controlled every aspect of their lives and kept them entirely under his rule.

Dina sighed. She was currently a welcoming gift, an addition to the room. Whoever the room's renter was—soldier, adventurer, gold digger, or a traveler from afar—Dina had heard about these men, usually tired and stinking of days-old sweat, who didn't care about formalities or manners, after all, they were given a woman without a choice, and as the saying goes, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," they quickly and ruthlessly got the job done on them.

The door suddenly burst open, Dina flinched, and closed her eyes. She heard a voice, rough and wild, soaked in alcohol, perhaps belonging to an orc or...

"...oh, that would be the... what'd ya do with the... thingamajig..."

The words were barely intelligible, the person was so drunk. Then suddenly, another voice laughed, a younger man's. "Come on, you ogre, and sleep it off! Who wants to listen to your crooked, gnarled stammering! Get to bed! You old drunkard, you...!"

Dina opened her eyes. This second voice seemed to come from closer.

The door closed, shutting out the noise of the tavern. Silence fell.

Sound of quiet footsteps.

The candlelight shone through the canopy, casting a more vivid, darker, warm yellow hue on it, and as the man stepped closer, his silhouette became visible—a black shadow against the yellow fabric. He was tall and well-built, his long hair couldn't cover his pointy ears. An elf. He walked to the chair and softly hummed a carefree tune. Then something metallic clinked, and Dina saw the glint of two large scimitars in the sharp moonlight.

The man brought with him a peculiar scent, the fresh smell of trees and leaves, the vibrant fragrance of the forest, mingled with the sour tang of tanned leather and metal. Singing, he discarded a few of his clothes, leaned over the basin, plunged his hands into it, the water splashing again and again. Finally, he sighed deeply and contentedly, then dried himself, carelessly tossing the towel onto the back of the chair, turned toward the bed, and suddenly stopped short.

Dina knew she had been noticed. She hadn't moved or made a sound until now. She swallowed hard.

The man stepped closer to the canopy and grabbed its edge.

Dina felt her heart pounding.

The curtain rings creaked as they slowly slid open. A pair of smiling eyes fell upon the girl.

Dina felt ashamed, even before herself, but she simply found him... handsome. The man was dark blond, his hair braided and tucked behind his ear, resembling ripe gold or the evening sun. His jaw was sharply defined, his lips full, his eyes brown and slightly mischievous. His skin was rather dark for an elf, sun-kissed. He wore only undergarments, his upper body illuminated by the candlelight.

"Oh, if I had known someone was waiting for me here tonight...!" His voice was surprisingly pleasant. He raised an eyebrow and flashed a lopsided smile as he looked over the girl lying in the bed.

Dina quickly averted her gaze. He might be handsome, but remember, he is your client! Just because he's good-looking doesn't mean he won't turn into a demanding monster in a moment! Then his good looks will be little consolation!

However, the man didn't seem like someone who couldn't control himself. He threw himself onto the bed, causing the springs to ripple helplessly under him, covered himself up to his waist, then clasped his hands behind his head, and sighed deeply and contentedly. "Ah, at last!"

Dina watched as his muscular chest rose and fell evenly. He was, in fact, very attractive, but... she didn't finish the thought. There was no "but." He was attractive.

"A-are you asleep?"

"Oh, no." The man's voice sounded genuinely awake. "I'm watching what you're doing, miss."

"But... your eyes are closed."

"That doesn't mean anything."

For a while, neither of them moved. Dina lingered a little, gazing at the half-naked body, then noticed a long tattoo running down the right side of his face, from the corner of his eye to his chin, a few black arcs, an intricate design. She leaned in a little closer, squinting in curiosity...

The man suddenly opened his eyes and fixed his smiling gaze on hers, causing Dina to hurriedly pull back, blinking. Then, with her eyes downcast, she awkwardly turned on her side, facing away from him. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the nightgown up around her waist under the covers. "Just be quick, please," she muttered weakly.

Then she waited. And kept waiting. She didn't hear him move at all.

"Hmmm!" A thoughtful hum.

Then, suddenly, she heard him, and then she smelled him too, as he moved closer, his fingers on her shoulder, his characteristic woodsy scent, then his breath on her ear.

"Forgive me for asking... I really don't want to offend you, please don't take it that way, right? Nothing personal, really, but..." The man whispered in her ear with elegant caution, then his voice suddenly rose to a doubtfully questioning pitch "...are you really a whore?"

Dina inhaled sharply at the word, turned onto her back, and stared straight into the eyes of the stranger leaning over her. He was so close she expected to feel uncomfortable, but instead, she felt strangely excited.

"I... I..." she stammered, caught in his confident gaze.

"Yes? No?" The man listed all possible answers.

"I... I can't... I can't answer that," she finally managed to say.

"Oh! I see," the man nodded, though his expression did not reflect understanding.

Suddenly, Dina felt a hand on her bare hip, gripping and pulling her back. She instinctively grabbed the sheet, almost screamed, but covered her mouth with her palm.

"Ah. I already know the answer." The man straightened her nightgown over her bottom, tucked her in, then rolled back to his side of the bed.

Dina stared ahead, panting, her white-knuckled fingers slowly releasing the sheet. Gradually, she lifted her gaze to the man's profile.

"You... you're tired. Aren't you?"

He smiled with his eyes closed. "Oh, darling, I'm downright exhausted! But if you're hinting at something, I'm never too tired for an enjoyable nighttime ride."

Stop it! Why are you asking him questions?! Just move away from him and wait until he falls asleep! She didn't understand why she couldn't obey the voice in her head. "So... do you find me ugly?"

The elf suddenly burst out laughing and immediately propped himself up. "Oh, heavens! Ugly?!" A peculiar fire ignited in his eyes, his gaze becoming enraptured as he followed his words. "My star, even the skin on your face begs for kisses, you're as fresh and luscious as a ripe peach, and your hair, spread out over your bare shoulders—oh, what man wouldn't be led to pure damnation by it?"

"And if my lips ventured under your soft, cozy blanket, I'm sure they'd find the most desirable and delicious things there."

Dina blushed. "W-why are you saying things like that to me?"

"You asked if I found you ugly. I simply answered."

Simply? She couldn't speak. Perhaps the man noticed this, because he continued.

"I would beg on my knees for your forgiveness if you were a professional courtesan and I didn't satisfy you three times, in three different ways, one after the other, while you trembled and screamed with pleasure. But I can spot a streetwalker from afar, and when I touched your waist, the whole bed shook beneath you. Of course, I know some men enjoy this innocent-little-girl-being-corrupted, naughty-old-man role, but if anything, that's really not my style," he said, then lay back down on the bed with his eyes closed.

Dina suddenly didn't know what to say. She was blushing just hearing the words.

"But then... so we're not going to do... um, anything?"

The elf chuckled softly. " Come now, my dear! We would have started long ago."

Dina kept imagining, and kept blushing.

The man glanced at her with one eye. "But there's a hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. Am I hearing that right?"

Dina suddenly looked back into his eyes.

"If you wish, we can play a little. It's up to you."

His glance seemed to want to draw her in.

"U-up to me?"

"Mhm."

"N-no, no, I..."

"Hm. What a shame."

Silence fell, the man closed his eyes again. A question was nagging at Dina's tongue, though her mind protested against it.

"What do you mean by 'up to me'?"

The man didn't look up, but his smile grew wider. "It means I do things to you. And you respond to me."

"Respond? And if I don't respond?"

"Then your body will respond for you."

She swallowed. Dina, you really shouldn't ask this next question!

"What kind of things?"

The man chuckled softly, eyes still closed. "Well, well, it turns out the innocent little girl's curiosity is greater than her fear. Perhaps she does want me to pamper her a little."

"No! No, I just..."

"No?"

"N..." Her voice faltered. She forced herself to push out the word. "No."

The man didn't reply, didn't move. Dina took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. She was filled with an excitement she had never felt before, her whole body trembling inside.

"Then no."

"No."

"No indeed."

The stranger opened one eye slightly and smiled mischievously. Dina looked back at him, startled, as if he knew what was on her mind. She was scared, yet she also longed for something, her emotions swirling, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest. By the candlelight, she watched the curve of the man's shoulder, the ridges of his body, and a strange force took hold of her—she wanted to touch him. In fact, she wanted him to touch her. But she was also afraid, not just of the stranger, but deeply ashamed of the thought that she was attracted to him.

What would have happened if I hadn't said no earlier? What would his first move have been? Would he kiss me? Embrace me? What would his embrace feel like? What would his touch feel like? Dina found herself fantasizing again, about a complete stranger who, incidentally, was her client.

And who, incidentally, didn't even touch her.

"So... so now you're going to sleep?"

The man yawned and turned toward Dina as he got comfortable. "It's up to you, my beautiful flower, but I think you should sleep too. I'll figure out how you ended up here tomorrow. Although I would still like to know your name today."

The girl asked in surprise. "My name? I'm Dina."

"Hmm, Dina, Dina..." The stranger rolled the word on his lips. "Interesting. It seems you're not ill-intentioned, Dina."

"Ill-intentioned?"

"Like a spy. And you're not a professional courtesan either, but I already knew that."

A small wrinkle appeared on Dina's forehead. "You deduced all this just from my name?"

The man sighed. "Partly because you're not hiding a weapon under the blanket; I would have felt that earlier. Secondly, professionals usually come up with some seductive or ambiguous alias. Spies and assassins would also give a similar name. So it's probably your real name."

The girl pondered and watched the man's face beside her on the pillow, eyes closed.

"And you? What's your name?"

She had a feeling the question surprised him because the man opened his eyes alertly and stared at Dina for a long time.

"My dear, it's late, I'm dead tired, and you're as innocent as a newborn lamb. What would you say if we didn't chat any longer tonight? But I wouldn't kick a beautiful soul out of my bed, so I suggest you sleep here with me tonight, right?"

He stroked Dina's face, his thumb brushing past her lips, then closed his eyes. After a moment, he added, "And... my name is Zevran."

Dina sighed deeply. It seemed her second client wasn't going to assault her either. Deep down, she knew she couldn't always count on this, but the man's current decision brought her incredible relief. Sleeping in the same bed with him didn't seem too burdensome; in fact, Dina felt quite comfortable under the soft blanket, surrounded by the pleasant scent. She quietly watched the still, nicely curved features.

"Alright. Zevran," she finally said, her tone revealing a sense of relief and gratitude, enough that Zevran peeked at her one last time with one eye.

The man observed her for a while, then smiled slightly, hummed, and finally closed his eyes too.