The homeless that lead me in didn't stay with me.
He didn't tell me goodbye, or even gave me a nod of acknowledgement, no, instead, he turned around and did a beeline to the right. Toward a grey haired woman who's wearing something more modest than most women I saw around here, she has a sort of baggy dark shirt, and following the theme, she also has baggy pants, both clean and of pretty high quality.
He's a pretty rude homeless man.
But if we start with this principle, that everyone that does not greet me is rude, then everyone is rude.
The people around the brothel are rude, the people outside the brothel are rude, the guards behind me are rude.
Even if they're a mess of flow.
There is a mess of magic in their brain. Almost slick and dripping in the back of their brain, buzzing like bees in my sixth sense, they can't see me, and if I go with this principle, they are rude. And should be considered rude, even if I infected them yesterday, and kept their infection till the next day. Even if I'm invisible to them.
Also, my flow doesn't dissapear after they go to sleep?
That's odd.
That's something I would love to understand and experiment with, and fortunately for me, I have the time, I didn't sleep yesterday. Yes. But that's not much of a problem. Shrugging off exhaustion is easy for me.
So easy I almost died of exhaustion some days ago.
And I'm not home. Yes. But my mother won't really find it weird, we don't interact a lot, still, maybe I'll need to sneak back home from time to time to take some food, act like I'm still there and eat from the small amount of food she managed to gather.
I would leave her most of it.
Unfortunately, that would induce suspicion.
I will soon however. Soon. Because right now, I'm inside. Finally.
In the warm...and cozy brothel.
The water staining my cloak is drying. My wet face, my wet strands of dark hair that are growing day after day, they're drying. It's taking it's sweet time, but they're drying. Because it's warm inside the brothel.
The main reason for it is probably the gigantic fire place in front of me. That was the orange glint.
The one I saw while waiting, while trying my best to look inside the brothel, that's what I saw. It was this, this fireplace, a giant incrusted fireplace positioned directly in front of me, on the wall just in front of the entrance, first thing you see when you get in.
It's odd. Not gonna complain though, I don't feel the cold anymore, it's not hot too, it's comfortable inside, it's warm. Not too cold. Not too hot.
It's the kind of warmth that relaxes your body, and make you stay for...longer. Make you relaxed and ready for...MORE relaxation.
The people in front of me prove that. There's a good amount of people around the fireplace, and they're not standing or sitting on the ground like dogs. No, they're sitting down on comfortable couches and plushy seats, they're not high high quality, I can't see embroidery, and there's the smallest hint of stains here and there if you squint and search for them. But that's couches nonetheless, couches that look mighty comfortable.
The people sitting in them agree. There's a lot. A dozen. Understandable considering the amount of people outside.
They're enjoying their stay there, with drinks on small tables that are boxed in between the seats, seats that themselves form a demicircle around the fireplace.
They have drinks. They laugh. Some even have food that smells...nice? What is this fucking luxury?
Is this really for homeless? A look at some of the figures on the couches, especially the ones with multiples girls around them shows that...they're pretty well groomed. Yes. But everyone looks pretty well groomed, or clean at least, but some of them wear....really good clothes.
Fine clothes.
Not the kind you would expect a homeless to have access to.
And then, I remember that guy my father fought. He had a good deal with Youta? I did heard some things about youta from my week of spying, he's the guy my mom sees before the bear escorts her here.
Are there non-homeless people that come here to enjoy some company?
Well...my mother comes from the rich district. And she's a prostitute. So...certainly?
Oh, the luxury is starting to make sense.
Looking at my right to see the man I hid behind, I see him talk with the grey haired woman. And after some back and forth and an exchange of ryos, another man with short dark hair and chapped lips, in some kind of black uniform similar to the grey haired woman wave at the homeless to follow him. They push open huge closed doors on my right, and enter a path that leads deeper into the brothel, the doors close behind a second later.
Okay?
Another man in the same kind of black uniform passes in front of the dozen or so people chilling close to the fireplace and they start talking together, about the constant rain with a guy holding a girl close, laughing with a guy that lacks two front teeth, and overall enjoying their time, showing off their staff to clients relationship as the uniformed man put more wood in the fireplace
From broken pieces coming from houses, I'm pretty sure they come from houses, but there's also cut logs.
Then he leaves. And go to the left, opens a normal door to the edge of the wall, ignoring the wide double doors beside said smaller door, double doors that mirrors the ones on my right that were pushed open a second ago.
When he opens the door, a smell reaches my nose, something tasty, really tasty. The smell of potatoes, the smell dissapears when he slinks inside and close the door with him.
That's the kitchen? My nose crinks again, maybe where the staff rest, they're staff right?
The black cloth guys are the staff right? Sliding on the ground while pondering this, I get closer to the warm fireplace, until I can hear the conversations.
"Ah, well, something's like that is pretty easy y'know?"
"Sir, please stop being so humble..." The woman that just said that lean closer to the well clothed man, and the women on his other side lean closer too to whisper something in his ear.
And I ignore their flirting to focus on what's happening on another couch, two men, without any women. They're drinking something from mugs, one of them is shoving some potatoes down his throat too. "Mfuck!" The eating man cough and his friend lets out a laugh before slapping his back
"Slow down slow down, nobody's gonna steal that!"
Potato man give him a look, but like, a LOOK
That his friend answer with a shrug, and a pass of his hand in his wet hair "No really, Youta wouldn't allow that, don't worry"
The man slow down a bit at this, patting his chest and leaning back in the comfortable looking backseat "Yeah yeah...it's just-" The man turns around to look at the brothel, as if he couldn't believe where he is "-so cheap"
"Worth it eh?" The friend leans closer and poke potato man chest "Don't tell everyone or youta's gonna raise the price"
Potato man says "Don't worry, I'm no snitch" before going back to his potatoes
That's....really not what I expected from a brothel.
Guess it makes sense for it to be comfortable since you're fucking in there. But...uh.
I don't know, just didn't expect food and all.
Turning around I look at the doors again, double doors to the left, a small one beside it that probably lead to a staff room, another big double doors to the right that takes most of the wall. And from what I've seen from the outside, lead somewhere up, yes, the brothel has multiple floors. The ceiling above me is too small for what I've seen, the room around me is also...pretty small.
It's not wide at all. There's just the fireplace, some staff talking to each other close to the double doors on my right, and that's all. The brothel from the outside looks huge. And now it's...a bit wider than a living room.
More importantly though. My sixth sense is throbbing. I can feel parts of me, part of my energy around me, it's everywhere, and there's a lot behind those doors.
Only explanation is that there's waaaaaay more behind those doors.
People included.
The only question I now have is simple.
How am I supposed to get past one of those doors?