It was already dark. Evelin and Urano were resting in a modest inn after a long, exhausting day of shopping. Though they had rented two rooms, they decided to gather in Evelin's, since she was the one who had bought most of the items—far more than necessary.
Evelin, glowing with excitement, tried on jewelry in front of the mirror with the giddy delight of a child at a fair. She modeled the clothes she had just bought, twirling with a dreamy smile.
"Look at this necklace! Isn't it beautiful? And these rings... God, not even at my friend's wedding did I see a sapphire this big. They'll match perfectly with the blue dress I bought."
Urano, lying on the bed, lazily lifted his head to glance at her. He was exhausted from the journey, but the spark in Evelin's eyes kept him attentive. She had bought so much that she didn't even know where to put it all.
"What do you need all that for?" he asked, without malice, just the weariness of someone overwhelmed. "It's not like we're staying here forever. Twenty more days at most. Then we go back."
Evelin lowered her gaze. She knew he was right. She knew she wouldn't be able to take any of it back with her. Still, she murmured softly, almost shyly:
"Haven't you ever thought that... maybe being here isn't so bad?"
Silence fell for a moment. Evelin, staring at her own hands, continued in a quiet voice:
"My last memory before appearing here was being in the studio, working until three in the morning without stopping. I was finishing the final manga chapter... again. The editor demanded last-minute changes because 'it lacked emotional impact.' I was so tired I cried in the bathroom without realizing it."
Urano closed his eyes. He understood all too well what she meant. In just fifteen days, Evelin had experienced more emotions than in the past four years of her life. And he… wasn't so different.
He remembered a night in his apartment, illuminated only by the cold blue glow of his monitor. A lukewarm cup of coffee on the desk, crumpled papers everywhere. That same night, his editor told him one of his novels would be adapted into a movie. He was thrilled. For a few days, he thought he was happy. But then he watched the producer butcher his story, turning it into something unrecognizable.
The royalties barely covered his tiny apartment on the city outskirts. And now... here, he could buy a dress with a snap of his fingers. But that wasn't real either. None of it was.
"None of this is real," Urano said quietly, staring at the ceiling.
"None of it, really?" Evelin whispered, so softly that he didn't hear her.
He looked at her again. Her expression had changed. She wasn't smiling anymore. There was a quiet doubt in her eyes, a longing for at least something to be genuine. For a second, he felt a faint ache in his chest. It had been so long since he'd felt something like that, he didn't even know what to call it.
So, he just reacted the best way he knew how.
"Hey, you showed me a blue dress earlier, right? How about trying on that necklace you bought? I think they'd look great together. Just find some comfy shoes and you've got the perfect outfit for the mission."
Evelin looked at him in surprise. Her eyes widened slightly, and then she gave him a small smile.
"Be right back!" she said cheerfully, running off to the bathroom to change.
Urano watched her vanish behind the door, feeling a strange warmth spread through his chest. He thought about how far they'd come. Before all this, they barely knew each other. At conventions, they had exchanged polite greetings and little else. Now, he could call her a companion. Maybe even a friend. Maybe extreme situations really did bring people together. It might even be a good premise for his next novel.
He realized so much had happened that he'd nearly forgotten his previous life. He had gotten so deep into this new role to survive, he hadn't stopped to reflect. His old routine, monotonous as it was, belonged to him. And though it hurt, he knew he'd eventually have to go back.
Maybe he'd write all this down in a journal. Perhaps, when it was all over, he could turn it into a story. Or a novel.
He shook his head to dispel the melancholy and focused on what mattered. During their shopping marathon, he had also picked up a few items, far more practical than aesthetic. He placed them on the table:
1 small arsenic capsule
2 smoke scrolls
1 pure iron stone with an electric spell
1 cross-shaped pendant that turned into a sword
2 unique protective bracelets
2 hair color-changing potions
The table creaked slightly under the weight. Not many items, but their presence filled the air with a sense of inevitability. Everything Urano had bought was just enough to carry out the assassination plan and escape alive. The idea was simple… on paper.
Disguise. Infiltrate the VIP lounge of the brothel. Poison the mercenary leader, create confusion among the guests, and set a small fire in a specific part of the building. While that happened, smoke scrolls would be placed in two other strategic spots so the real fire wouldn't be noticed too soon. Amid the chaos, they would escape.
A practical plan. In theory.
But executing it was another matter. First, they had to activate the scrolls at the exact moment. Second, find the right places to put them. The problem? They didn't know the brothel's interior well. They only had a rough idea from their first observation outside.
Even thinking about it was risky. And that sparked fear. Until now, they'd been in tense situations, yes, but nothing life-threatening. This time, though, he was gambling his existence for a chance to survive.
He didn't see himself as a hero. He wasn't the protagonist of an action novel fighting for justice. He just wanted to live. That's why he had brought extra items "just in case."
One of them was the pure iron stone with a lightning spell etched into its surface, reinforced with magical runes. A small square device functioning like a magical taser. When touched to something, it discharged a current strong enough to knock someone unconscious. Only had three uses.
He also had the cross-shaped pendant, which was actually a miniaturized sword. When he entered the magic shop, he asked if they had size-reduction enchantments. When they confirmed, he bought a longsword and had runes added to keep it in pendant form. They also used a weight-reduction spell. The downside: once unsheathed, the enchantment would break. Normally, crafting something like that would take weeks and cost a fortune, but he needed it in a day. So they improvised a temporary solution. One-time use only.
While Urano reviewed escape routes and possible issues, Evelin was still changing in the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a frustrated expression.
It wasn't her reflection she saw. It was Suzy's—the character she now embodied. Suzy had an almost flawless body: rounded, prominent bust; long, sculpted legs; firm abs; not a gram of fat; smooth, taut skin.
Evelin sighed.
It wasn't that she hated the body. It was beautiful, yes. But staring at it, she felt bitter discomfort. She remembered her real body, the one she hid beneath oversized sweatshirts not out of comfort, but shame. Now, seeing a body anyone would envy, she understood that someone else's beauty didn't erase her own insecurities. It just masked them.
Being a professional mangaka didn't help. Sleepless nights, sedentary lifestyle, junk food, mood swings... it all took its toll. And although she had stopped comparing herself to other women long ago—she wasn't that insecure teenager anymore—the stark contrast still hurt more than she liked to admit.
But she couldn't let herself drown in that spiral. She gave herself a light slap on the cheeks, trying to focus. She was stuck in this world, even if only temporarily. The least she could do was enjoy it a bit.
She looked at the light blue dress she had picked: soft ruffles, elegant yet casual. She put it on with a spark of excitement. Maybe… maybe Urano would say something nice. She didn't expect it, really. He had always been kind but distant—like he wore a mask. He treated everyone with warmth and respect, but there was always a wall between him and the world.
Still, in recent days, he seemed a little more open. Maybe... they could be friends.
Smiling, she walked out of the bathroom, excited to show Urano the dress.
The afternoon arrived. They left the inn, disguised and transformed.
Urano looked impeccable: a black wig styled in soft waves, lips painted a subtle red, and a dress cinched at the waist that enhanced his new silhouette. He walked with the proud posture of a noblewoman. No one would ever suspect he was a man.
He was cold. Elegant. Dangerous.
Beside him, Evelin walked with a satisfied smile, admiring her masterpiece. The plan was already in motion.
The story they had crafted was simple: two sisters, daughters of a ruined nobleman, desperate to pay off the debts their late father had left behind. Tragic, yet believable. In a world like this, it wasn't unusual for desperation to drive former nobility into the luxury brothel trade.
They didn't enter through the main entrance. Instead, they took the back alley, where deliveries and "internal business" were handled, far from the eyes of the public. They knocked twice, just as instructed.
"What do you want?" rasped a voice from behind a metal peephole.
"We're looking for work," Evelin answered confidently.
Urano would play the mute sister—by trauma or choice.
The man eyed them with an unashamedly predatory gaze, then opened the door and let them in.
They were led through a dim hallway to a lounge decorated with decadent luxury. Heavy curtains, crystal chandeliers, worn but expensive furniture. Faded beauty, tainted by corruption.
There, two people awaited them: a handsome man with a wild look and arms full of scars, and a round-faced woman in an emerald-green dress, sharp-eyed and unreadable. Gael and Rita, the siblings who ran the brothel.
Bastard children of a prostitute and the former owner. They had killed him once they were strong enough to seize control.
"So… you want to work here?" asked Rita, her voice firm, but almost motherly.
Evelin nodded calmly.
"This is a slave brothel," Rita continued, pulling out a document. "Your payment will depend on what you're willing to offer. But make no mistake—if you sign this, there's no backing out. Breaking the contract carries a very high cost."
She laid three contracts on the table:
Option 1 – 20 gold coins: waitress duties, superficial company, harmless flirtation.
Option 2 – 50 gold coins: waitress + performances + private sessions.
Option 3 – 100 gold coins: no rights, multiple clients, extreme conditions.
They chose the second option. Ambitious enough to be believable, but without crossing the line into the irreversible.
They signed with false names. The contract stated that if they left before completing a year, they would receive no payment. They were no longer people. They were temporary property.
Rita looked at them with a strange mixture of pity and admiration. Perhaps she suspected something… but said nothing.
Urano remained silent. Evelin explained he was mute. No one questioned it. In fact, the reaction was more unsettling than expected.
"All she needs is to know how to use her mouth properly," Rita said with a bitter smile.
Evelin shivered. Urano seethed inside. But no one said a word.
Gael, still in the background, watched them in silence. His gaze was heavy, like a shadow hanging over them. Urano noticed, and silently returned the look with a warning of his own:
"Touch Evelin, and I'll kill you."
Once in their assigned room, Evelin collapsed into a chair. Urano remained tense, his muscles tight beneath the dress.
Elsewhere in the brothel, Rita sighed.
"I kind of feel bad for those two girls," she murmured. "They remind me of us. But this is business. And we have to squeeze every coin we can."
Gael gently patted her head, though his voice remained cold.
"We never expected the richest clients to be the sickest… but that's how the world works."
A guard entered, carrying the body of a girl—or rather, what looked like a girl.
A bred fairy: magical beings capable of shrinking to childlike proportions.
Her once-bright wings were now wilted. Her golden skin had turned a sickly gray.
The twisted clients preferred them like this: small, fragile… eternal.
"Make it look like a suicide," Rita ordered. "And you know what to do with the body."
Rita had long since taught herself not to feel. Gael, on the other hand, didn't look away. That fragile beauty had struck something in him.
And as he stared at the corpse with quiet obsession, he whispered:
"When all this is over… I want to get to know her better."
He was talking about Evelin.