I burst from Willow’s room with such explosive momentum that I nearly collided face-first with Nara, who was skipping her way down the hall toward the main lobby with a delighted little hum.
Her bunny ears bounced with each skip, her entire being radiating an enthusiasm so bright it made fatigue seem less like a biological necessity and more like a personal failing she had simply elected not to participate in.
She pirouetted around me with a dancer’s grace when I stumbled into her path, giggling at my disheveled appearance without breaking stride, before continuing her journey toward whatever excitement awaited below.
I quickly followed suit behind her, my boots finding purchase on the familiar floorboards as I moved toward the balcony railing that overlooked the theater’s main lobby. I stopped at the edge, gripping the polished wood with both hands—both fully functional hands, I noted with satisfaction that still felt slightly surreal—leaning forward to view the full scale of the situation.
The lobby had transformed into a hurricane of purposeful motion, a whirlwind of bodies moving in patterns that looked random from above but clearly followed some organizational logic I couldn’t immediately parse.
Julius stood at the epicenter of this controlled disaster, positioned in the middle of the lobby like a conductor before an orchestra, directing attendants with frantic hand gestures that bordered on theatrical mime.
His golden hair caught the warm light as he spun from one worker to another, pointing toward doorways, gesturing at decorations that needed adjusting.
"No, not there—over by the window! Yes, perfect! Someone fix that star, it’s hanging crooked! We have maybe two minutes before—oh gods, is that dust on the ticket stand?! Someone get a cloth, immediately!"
The attendants scattered in response to his commands, moving with the kind of focused panic that came from people who understood just how much depended on getting this right—and exactly how little time they had to achieve it.
Some of them hauled furniture into better positions, others polished surfaces that already gleamed, a few adjusted the hanging star decorations that dangled from the ceiling in carefully arranged constellations, restoring the illusion of effortless beauty the design demanded.
The artificial moonlight streaming through the impossible windows pulsed slightly brighter, someone apparently adjusting the illusory magic to maximize its visual impact.
Nara glided down the sweeping staircase with effortless grace, her movements fluid despite her perpetual energy, bouncing up next to Julius the moment her feet touched the lobby floor.
She leaned in close and whispered something meant only for him, her voice too soft to carry but her enthusiasm unmistakable.
Her ears twitched rapidly, little flicks of motion that betrayed her barely contained anticipation, and behind her, her tail gave a series of quick, delighted wiggles that broadcast her excitement far more honestly than discretion might’ve preferred.
Grisha leaned against the far wall with her massive arms folded comfortably across her chest, her tusked face wearing an expression of amused tolerance as she observed the frantic preparations without offering assistance.
Her amber eyes tracked the chaos with clinical detachment, the look of someone who’d already decided her role in this operation was to be imposing rather than industrious, and given her considerable physical presence, no one seemed particularly eager to dispute that assessment.
Brutus emerged from the bar and lounge area carrying a wine bottle and two crystal glasses in his hand, his eyes scanning the lobby before settling on Julius. He moved with deliberate care, his massive frame navigating around scurrying attendants without disrupting their work, crossing the space to stand near Julius in silent support.
Just then, I heard a soft, defeated sigh from directly behind me, warm breath ghosting across my neck moments before I felt someone’s arms drape around me. Willow pressed her naked body against my back, her chin finding the curve of my shoulder. When she spoke, her voice carried a note of genuine complaint—soft, petulant, and just shy of a pout.
"What terrible timing. We were this close to moving past kissing into significantly more interesting activities. Now I’m standing here frustrated and unfulfilled while you get excited about business meetings. Do you have any idea how unsatisfying that is?"
I tilted my head to glance at her with a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite mask my enthusiasm. "I know, I know. Trust me, I’m equally as frustrated—but this is important. Lloyd’s review determines whether we have a functional brothel or an expensive pile of rubble that occasionally hosts orgies. We can continue where we left off after business concludes. Consider it delayed gratification."
Willow made a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper, her arms tightening around my neck in a possessive embrace. "I’m holding you to that promise. The instant this business concludes, you’re mine. No excuses, no distractions, no sudden emergencies. Just you, me, and several hours of making up for lost time."
"Deal," I confirmed with a laugh that carried more breathlessness than I intended. "Though you might want to put on some clothes before we head downstairs. Julius will have a breakdown if you greet Lloyd naked, regardless of how much it might improve the aesthetic."
Before Willow could protest this reasonable suggestion, Felix emerged from behind us with a jaw-cracking yawn that made his delicate features scrunch adorably.
He shuffled forward on bare feet, his silky nightclothes rumpled from sleep, his blonde hair sticking up in directions that defied both gravity and logical explanation.
His eyes were still half-closed, consciousness apparently optional for basic locomotion, one hand rising to rub at his face with the universal gesture of someone forcibly dragged from comfortable rest into waking existence.
Willow and I turned to face him in perfect synchronization. Felix blinked at us with confusion, his brain clearly still booting up, mouth opening around words that hadn’t quite formed yet.
I didn’t give him time to finish processing the situation. My smile widened into something mischievous as I seized his hand with my newly restored fingers, tugging him forward with enough force to make him stumble.
He let out a surprised yelp that echoed across the lobby, his bare feet slipping slightly on the polished floor as I dragged him toward the staircase with Willow trailing behind us.
Moments later, the lobby stood relatively empty save for the core members of our crew, the attendants having been efficiently dismissed to handle final preparations elsewhere or simply make themselves scarce during what promised to be an important evaluation.
Julius positioned himself at the forefront of our assembled group, his hands smoothing down his robes with nervous energy, fingers adjusting fabric that didn’t need adjusting. He cleared his throat with deliberate authority. Determination settled into his features like armor donned before battle, shoulders squaring, spine straightening into perfect posture.
However, before he could even think to take a step forward or launch into whatever prepared greeting he’d rehearsed, the theater’s front doors exploded inward with a loud bang that made Julius squeak and jump several inches off the ground.
The heavy wood slammed back against the interior walls with enough force to rattle their decorative elements, the sound reverberating through the space like artillery fire in an enclosed chamber.
And then Lloyd stepped through.
He didn’t enter so much as arrive—striding across the threshold with a flourish so deliberate it bordered on performance art, his long brown coat sweeping behind him like a stage cape caught in a perfectly timed gust.
His button-up shirt and dark vest remained pristine despite his journey through the slums, not a single wrinkle marring the careful presentation, his boots polished to a mirror shine that reflected the ambient light.
A shovel rested casually on his shoulder—an odd accessory that somehow fit his aesthetic perfectly. It sat there with effortless familiarity, as though it belonged as naturally to his silhouette as the coat or the grin currently splitting his face.
And what a grin it was—wide, sharp, almost manic in its intensity—the expression of a man who didn’t merely enjoy anticipation but actively fed on it. His eyes gleamed with it, that restless spark of eagerness radiating outward in palpable waves until the very air in the lobby seemed to hum faintly, charged with the promise of imminent activity.
Flanking him were his crew, and I had to blink several times to process what I was seeing because these men were obscenely muscular in ways that defied reasonable biological limits.
Each one looked like they’d been carved from living stone, their arms thicker than my torso, their chests broad enough to serve as furniture, their presence filling the space with the kind of physical dominance that should’ve made intimidation automatic.
And yet their expressions ruined any illusion of menace.
They were grinning. Actually grinning—wide, bright, almost boyish smiles that transformed their intimidating builds into something unexpectedly enthusiastic. Several of them bounced lightly on their feet, unable to stand entirely still, their energy mirroring Lloyd’s with infectious intensity.
They looked less like hired muscle and more like men who had just arrived at an event they’d been excited about all week, eyes shining as they took in our assembled group with the unmistakable delight of people who genuinely loved what they did and couldn’t wait to get started.
I blinked in surprise at seeing Lloyd’s demeanor completely transformed since our last meeting. Where before he’d been cautious and measured, now he commanded the room with the kind of effortless authority that made everyone instinctively straighten their postures, his mere presence shifting the atmosphere from nervous anticipation into something charged with possibility.
He planted his shovel point-first into the lobby floor before leaning on the handle with casual confidence, his gaze sweeping across the space with analytical attention.
"Well now," he said at last, tone warm with honest approval, "This is significantly more impressive than I anticipated based on our previous meeting. The illusory magic weaving that artificial moonlight—absolutely exquisite work, maintaining consistent luminosity without visible seams or fluctuation. Those hanging star decorations create atmospheric depth that make the space feel larger than its physical dimensions. The architecture itself—these sweeping lines, the way the staircase draws the eye upward, the proportions designed to evoke grandeur without pretension—someone understood exactly what they were doing when they built this place."
Julius straightened himself with visible effort, carefully regathering the composure that Lloyd’s dramatic entrance had scattered, smoothing his robes one final time before stepping forward into his role with the kind of practiced grace that came from years of theatrical training.
He swept into a bow so elaborate it could’ve graced royal courts, one arm crossing his chest while the other extended outward in a graceful arc.
His golden hair slipped forward as he dipped, framing his face in an artful disarray that looked suspiciously intentional, the entire movement resolving into a pose of such clean geometry it seemed diagrammed—angles balanced, lines precise, respect conveyed without sacrificing flourish.
"Lloyd, master craftsman and esteemed colleague," Julius intoned with his voice pitched to carry across the lobby without shouting, each syllable carefully enunciated. "We are honored beyond measure by your presence this evening. We humbly present to you our establishment—the Moonlight Sonata—and eagerly await your assessment of its potential to become something truly magnificent under your expert guidance."
For a heartbeat, the room held still around the words.
Then Lloyd’s wicked smile softened—not vanishing, but easing at the edges into something warmer, something almost disarmingly sincere. The sharp gleam in his eyes gentled, faint creases forming at their corners as genuine pleasure slipped through the showman’s polish.
"Please, none of that humble nonsense—you know damn well this place has bones worth preserving." He gestured broadly at the lobby with his free hand. "Though I’ll admit, you’ve exceeded expectations with what you’ve accomplished in just a single week. Most people would still be clearing debris at this stage."
Just then, Brutus stalked forward with the wine bottle and crystal glasses held carefully in his massive hand. He stepped up beside Julius, using his considerable height advantage to assist in pouring the wine with his single functional arm, angling the bottle with steady control while Julius positioned the glasses beneath it.
Julius offered a glass to Lloyd, the gesture formal despite the casual conversation, his smile bright and genuine. Lloyd accepted it with equal grace, raising the crystal toward the artificial moonlight.
"To new beginnings," Lloyd declared with his voice carrying across the lobby to include everyone present. "To taking something forgotten and making it legendary. To the absolute madness of opening a brothel in the worst possible location with the worst possible timing." He paused, his smile widening. "And to the inevitable success that follows when stubborn idiots refuse to acknowledge how stupid their plans are."
Julius touched his own glass to Lloyd’s with a clear chime. Both men drank deeply, lowering their glasses afterward with matching expressions of satisfaction, as if the toast had sealed something more binding than mere agreement.
Just then, Lloyd’s expression shifted slightly, curiosity replacing his enthusiasm as his gaze tracked toward the front doors still slightly ajar from his dramatic entrance.
"I noticed the renovations outside—proper structural work, not just cosmetic touch-ups. And all those attendants working with professional efficiency. Where’d you manage to acquire that kind of labor force? Last I checked, hiring that many competent workers required either substantial capital or very compelling blackmail material."
Julius gasped with surprise, his hand flying to his mouth in shock. "You haven’t heard? The whole city’s been talking about—" He cut himself off, waving dismissively. "Actually, that’s not important right now. What matters first and foremost is your initial assessment and review."
He gestured at the rest of us with a sweeping motion that encompassed our entire assembled crew, his smile taking on a slightly mischievous quality. "You’re free to choose from any one of them for your evaluation. Any member of our staff can demonstrate what we’re capable of providing to clients." His gaze flickered briefly to Brutus with a suggestion so subtle it almost passed unnoticed. "Even our security personnel, should that particular aesthetic appeal to your preferences."
Lloyd laughed—deep and full-bodied. "You’re trying to pimp out your bouncer? That’s either brilliant marketing or the most desperate sales pitch I’ve ever witnessed." The laughter faded gradually, though the warmth lingered at the corners of his mouth. His expression shifted into something sharper then as he handed his empty wine glass back to one of his crew members without looking. "But alright. Let’s see what you’re offering."
His gaze swept past each of us with methodical thoroughness.
When he looked at Nara, she bounced excitedly on her toes, bunny ears standing at full attention. She practically glowed with restless enthusiasm, her entire being radiating an energy that tugged faintly at Lloyd’s composure, the corner of his mouth threatening a smile he didn’t quite allow to form.
His attention moved to Grisha next, and the contrast was almost comical. The massive orc woman didn’t move an inch. Arms folded, shoulders relaxed, she met his scrutiny with unshakable calm, her tusked face betraying nothing but mild interest in his decision.
Willow received a longer look.
She stood exactly as she was—unbothered, unguarded, and utterly at ease in her nudity. Lloyd’s gaze lingered as he traced the lines of her crimson skin and generous curves with obvious appreciation before professional detachment reasserted itself.
Brutus received an even longer pause, Lloyd’s eyes tracking over the scarred giant’s frame with what might’ve been genuine consideration before moving on.
When his gaze finally landed on me, I gave him my most confident smirk—the one that carried just enough challenge to be interesting without crossing into actual disrespect.
Lloyd’s reaction was immediate and telling, a shaky laugh that carried a nervous energy he tried unsuccessfully to hide. His smile faltered just slightly at the edges, posture shifting into something fractionally more defensive despite his attempts at maintaining composure.
I understood then with crystalline clarity that the man was terrified of me. Not violently afraid, not the kind of fear that preceded combat, but the careful wariness of someone who’d just realized they were standing in a room with a smiling predator and couldn’t quite tell whether they’d been invited as a guest or selected as the evening’s entertainment.
His gaze moved past me to Felix, who stood slightly behind in the back of our group, still looking half-asleep but now visibly nervous under the scrutiny. His hands twisted together in front of him, his dark eyes widening slightly, his entire posture radiating the kind of anxious energy that came from suddenly becoming the center of unwanted attention.
Lloyd’s crew shouted encouragements and suggestions from their positions flanking the doorway, their voices overlapping in enthusiastic chaos. "The bunny girl! She looks energetic!" "No no, choose the orc women!" "What about the red one? Succubi are nearly impossible to find nowadays!" "The small blonde one in the back looks adorable!"
Lloyd raised a single hand to silence them, the gesture carrying enough authority that the cacophony immediately ceased, his crew falling into obedient silence.
"I’ve made my decision."
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The words traveled anyway, gliding through the lobby with quiet certainty, settling into every corner as though the air itself had agreed to carry them. His expression rested somewhere between anticipation and honest curiosity.
The room held still.
It just... froze. Like a breath drawn and forgotten. No one shifted. No one spoke. Even the ambient sounds seemed to pause—no creaking floorboards, no distant noises from the workers outside. Absolute quiet settled over us, gentle and complete.
"I choose that one," Lloyd suddenly declared with satisfaction warming his voice as he pointed directly at Felix.