He stepped through the doorway. The entire tenth floor stretched into a massive circular private world: a stylish open kitchen, a spacious living area, a huge circular king size bed, rows of wardrobes, a small indoor garden blooming in one corner, a bathtub shimmering beside glass partitions, a luxurious bathroom, soft carpets, delicate curtains, polished floors. A suite more like a palace than a brothel room.
He took it all in with a low whistle of admiration.
When he turned back, she was still standing frozen near the entrance. He reached over, caught her wrist gently, and pulled her inside.
The moment she snapped out of her trance, she demanded, "How did you know that?"
He pulled her closer, his voice dropping. "That is not the question you should ask now. "
His lips hovered near hers. "You should ask where we are going to do it."
He looked around the lavish space. "The bathtub? The garden? The sofa? Right here on the floor? Or even in the elevator is fine. Or maybe," he said with a playful grin, "we start here and continue everywhere. What do you think of that idea?"
She met his gaze steadily now.
"Who said I work here?" she replied. "I own this."
"That I know. Also, I know that right now, you are wet down there and hot up here," he said while pointing at her legs and her chest.
He sat on the bed and began undressing.
The woman as well walked to him while stripping and saying, "I don't like my home getting dirty."
----
"You got up quickly! After being that energetic throughout the night, I thought you would need a whole day of sleep."
"I can't sleep alone. I need a person to sleep beside me."
She paused, sliding onto the bed. "Person? Not a woman?"
"You interpret things interestingly," he said with a faint smile. "But what you said is true. Gender, race, human or beast, none of that matters to me."
She chuckled and stood, pulling on her pantyhose. "How many have you slept with?"
"Countless. And at the same time, only one."
She stopped halfway, pantyhose clutched mid-thigh. "What do you mean by that?"
"It is exactly what it sounds like."
She gave up trying to understand and resumed dressing. Sitting back down, she asked, "Aren't you married?"
Buttoning his shirt, he said sarcastically, "Do I look like an old geezer?"
"Yes."
His face dimmed, almost wounded. "Do I look older than you?"
"Aren't you?" she asked while pulling up her skirt.
"Maybe I am younger than you, or maybe I am older," he said softly. "For me, time is only an ornament."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, you like hiding your age like a woman. Then we will leave that topic. But you still didn't answer the other question."
She looked toward her chest, then gestured for him to unbutton her top.
"Are you married?" she repeated.
He began undoing her buttons. "What does marriage mean? If it means having a bond with someone, then yes, I am married."
She adjusted her chest to make it look fuller, more seductive. "So you are married. What do you do for a living?"
She lifted her chest with her hands, signaling him to fasten the buttons again.
Buttoning her top carefully, he asked, "Are you curious?"
She stood and studied her reflection in the mirror. A pleased smile spread across her face. "Perfect. Sexy and seducing, right?"
He nodded at her through the mirror.
She turned back. "If I say I'm not curious, it would be a lie."
He gestured for her to sit, and when she did, he asked, "Can't you read it on my face, the way you read others?"
"That is exactly why I am curious," she replied. "It feels like I can read your face, but I cannot. I feel like I understand everything you say, but again, it seems strange. In short, you are mysterious. From your presence to your card, everything about you is mysterious."
"If I am a mystery, then so are you," he said evenly.
"Why am I a mystery?"
He smiled slowly. "Because with a single look, you can tell what a person is, what they are thinking. You can even read feelings buried deep in their hearts, feelings they themselves are unaware of. When a customer carries the slightest danger, you sense it instantly and warn your bodyguards. The women beside the desk, plus the four guards below, plus the six hidden in rooms whose numbers are missing in the hall… all of them are there to protect the three hundred and twelve women working here."
He leaned a little closer.
"Yet none of them are allowed to protect you. Not because you are foolish, but because you are smart enough to design a building with engineering like this. You anticipated the consequences of revealing these women's pasts. You mixed lies with their stories. For some, everything is a lie, even their names. You never reveal your own past. You trust no one. Yet you do not want the people around you to get hurt."
He tilted his head. "And now you ask why you are a mystery?"
Her expression barely shifted. She remained calm, composed, unreadable.
"Who are you, really?" she asked quietly.
"I will tell you," he said, "but on one condition."
"What condition?"
"I speak mine… and you speak yours."
She exhaled slowly. "Curiosity is man's curse. Ah! I suppose this is what they meant by that. Very well. Let me hear your mysterious tale, in return for mine."
With a serious face and a deep, steady voice, he asked, "Will you tell me everything about you?"
She stretched her legs slightly and replied, "You already saw everything about me, from my house to my body. I don't think telling you my tale will be difficult. Besides, it is a fair deal. I am… curious, after a very long time."
"Good," he said. "Then I will begin. My name is Obero. I was born in a forest near the border of Briston. I lived with my tribe for a while, until curiosity pushed me to find what lay beyond those long trees. So I traveled all the way here. That feeling of curiosity is the last thing I remember from my past."
He paused, adjusting his shirt calmly.
"After I arrived here, I tried blending in, but this world is very cruel to outsiders. I faced it. In the process I earned money, a lot of it. And now, here I am in a brothel, sleeping with its owner."
When he finished, she blinked in disbelief. "Finished!?"
He nodded once.
"That doesn't sound mysterious at all."
"How does it sound then?"
"Like a made-up story, but…"
"But?"
She leaned forward and looked straight into his eyes. "Your eyes don't look like they're lying. They are brimming with honesty."
He smiled faintly. "Now it is your turn. You know the deal. Tell me everything about you. Everything means everything you remember from the beginning."
She settled comfortably on the bed. "You give me no choice. Where should I start?"
"From the very beginning."
"Alright. My name is Juli, short for Juliet. I was born in Northill. Before I knew anything, my parents died and I lived with my grandmother—"
She stopped. He had already gotten off the bed and was walking away.
"Why are you ignoring me?" she snapped.
He stood before a painting hanging on the wall: a mother breastfeeding her crying baby. His gaze didn't move from it.
Still watching the painting, he said, "There are many lies in the world, but two are the most beautiful. The first is a baby's cry. Babies don't always cry because they are hungry. Most of the time, they cry just to pull their mother's attention. The second lie is death. Every other lie humans tell is ugly. And the uglier the lie, the more the beautiful lie, death, tries to balance it."
He lifted his hand and gently rubbed the painted tears on the baby's face, as though he could truly comfort it.
After a moment, his entire aura shifted. His eyes grew cold, and his voice dropped to a chilling calm.
"I am a man from the forest and also a successful man in this cruel world. So I don't think I need to mention to an intelligent woman like you that I am less of a human… and more of a beast."
She quivered, just slightly, but enough for the cold sweat to gather along her collarbone. A moment later she let out a soft, shaky chuckle.
"It has been a long time since I felt it," she murmured. "But I know it clearly. The feeling I almost forgot, the feeling I thought I would never experience again. The feeling of fear. This is exactly how I used to feel back then."
He returned to the bed and sat, quiet, waiting.
She continued, "As a reward for making me remember the feeling that was once my only friend, I will tell you my true story. Everything from the beginning, like I promised."
Seeing her small smile, he smiled back. "Calling fear a friend and rewarding someone for returning it to you, you are a tough woman."
Her expression fell into something older, heavier. "My tale is tough as well."
"Then I am all ears. Begin from the beginning."
She inhaled slowly and began telling her story as if she is reading the contents from a book.