Saki walked with one hand against the wall. One step. Another step. Her knees nearly buckled. Her ribs creaked. But she could move. That was what mattered. Last time, she had lured the flower-selling old man herself. She had seen his face slacken and crumble. That sensation still sat deep in her chest. Cold. Hot. Both at once. Saki stood before the office door. She steadied her breathing. Her wounds ached. She deliberately let her chest peek open, just a little. Her collarbone showed. The swell of her breasts swayed beneath the thin fabric. She knocked. "[cold] Enter." She opened the door. Madame Vespa sat beyond the desk. A black dress. Gaunt fingers gripped a quill. Cold golden eyes pierced Saki through. "[gentle] May I have permission to go into town? To breathe the outside air." Vespa's quill stopped. Her golden eyes narrowed. She looked Saki over, head to toe, as if licking her clean. "[cold] Again?" Saki erased her expression. Her heart gave one loud leap. But her face showed nothing. "[gentle] A change of pace. I want to prepare myself, so I can work the back menu again tonight." Silence fell. Vespa's finger tapped the desk. *Tap.* "[cold] I'll assign a guard. Return by sundown." Saki bowed her head. She closed the door. Vespa's gaze stabbed into her back. But Saki did not notice — the faint glimmer deep in those eyes. She passed through the pleasure quarter. One guard walked behind her, silent. Expressionless. Cobblestone streets. The sound of carriages. Merchants calling out. Saki walked slowly. Her purpose was set. Last time, the flower-selling old man. This time — she wanted to test with a more ordinary man. Whether her body could truly be a weapon. The city's outer edge. A row of warehouses. Dusty air. Sweat and wine mingled in the smell. She found him. A young delivery man. Unloading wine barrels from a cart. Dark skin. Muscles standing out on his rolled-up sleeves. She didn't even know his name. Saki approached. "[gentle] Um, excuse me." The man looked up. Hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Brown eyes looked at Saki. "[surprised] What?" His voice was young. Around twenty-five, maybe. No wariness — not yet. "[gentle] I've gotten lost. I want to go to the market. Which way is it?" A lie. She knew where the market was. But that didn't matter. Saki closed the distance by one step. She consciously turned her chest toward Marco. The line of her collarbone. The swell of her breasts. Beneath the thin fabric, her nipples faintly stiffened — aftereffects of the Crimson Dream powder, or something else. Marco's eyes were drawn to her chest. "[confused] Ah, yeah... The market's that way." His pointing hand trembled. "[gentle] Thank you. But... it's a little hard to follow." Saki tilted her head. Her short black hair swayed. Her deep brown eyes gazed up at Marco. She heard Marco swallow. "[scared] I-I'll show you. This way." He approached on his own. Didn't even realize he was being led. Deep in Saki's chest, something pulsed faintly. The word *control*. Hotter and stronger than last time. Beside the warehouse. A deserted loading dock. Wine barrels stacked high. The smell of old wood. In shadow, a blind spot from the street. Saki stopped. Marco stopped too. "[whispers] It's quiet here." Marco's breathing grew ragged. She could see his reason slowly melting away. Saki put her back to the wall. Slowly, she opened her chest further. "[whispers] Come closer." Her own voice sounded distant, like someone else's. Her body screamed *no*. But her head stayed cold. Marco put a hand against the wall. He loomed over her. The smell of sweat and dust. "[scared] You a whore?" "[gentle] Do I look like one?" Saki's lips twisted faintly. She was in control. She felt it, clearly. Marco's hand reached for Saki's hip. Trembling fingers grabbed the fabric. "[scared] Is this okay?" Asking permission. That alone was proof he was already dominated. Saki didn't answer. She just closed her eyes. — After that, it was the same. Her clothes were pushed up. Her underwear shifted aside. Her sex exposed. The man's fingers entered her. A wet, slick sound. Aftereffects of the Crimson Dream powder, or her body reacting on its own. Marco undid his belt. His bare penis. Hard and erect. The glans pressed against Saki's thigh. "Nn... ah." She was pierced. Pinned against the wall, hips slammed into her again and again. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. Saki's body shook. But her mind stayed cool. (*Men are this easy?*) She stared at Marco's face. His expression slackening and crumbling into pleasure. Eyes vacant, mouth half-open. In her heart, she carved it into memory. One more. One more man. Marco ejaculated. Hot semen dripped down the inside of her thigh. The cloudy white fluid fell onto the cobblestones. "[laughing] Haha... that was good. Come back again." A voice in high spirits. Saki didn't answer. She just turned her back. Her body ached. A foreign sensation lingered in her vagina. Semen clung to her thigh, slick and chafing with every step. But — inside her head, it was strangely quiet. On the way back. Saki walked, looking at her own hands. Different from the baker. Today, from the very start, she had controlled everything. Marco thought he was leading, but Saki had guided him. (*The me who was scared and hurting and crying is disappearing.*) In her chest, the word *control* burned hot and bright. But — something snagged at the corner of her mind. (*Where did I learn this feeling?*) The brothel. The hell of the back menu, repeated every night. Because the customers had broken her, over and over, she had learned the sensation of breaking men. (*Because I was broken, I learned to break?*) A contradiction. Saki's smile vanished. Even so, her feet did not stop. Back at the brothel. The twilight dyed the stone walls of the Under-Moon Brothel red. She walked the hallway. When she reached her room — Camila was there. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Her long, dark-purple hair hung carelessly over her shoulders. Cold silver eyes pierced Saki. The thin vertical scar on her left cheek stood out darkly in the sunset shadows. "[cold] What are you doing outside?" Her voice was low. But different from her usual curtness. Beneath it, anger — and something like fear. Saki stopped. "[cold] What do you mean? Just a walk." She had no energy to lie, or to explain. Camila stepped closer. Her silver eyes narrowed. "[serious] What are you plotting?" This time, it was a clear question. Saki looked straight at Camila's face. What should she say? She didn't know. She just lifted the corner of her lip, faintly. A smile — but not really smiling. Just something like a signal of confirmation. Camila's expression visibly clouded. "[whispers] This isn't the time to smile. This brothel runs deeper than you think." Camila's voice trembled faintly. "[whispers] You can't escape from here. I told you before. Do you want to die?" Saki didn't answer. Camila stared into Saki's eyes. Silence for a few seconds. "[cold] ...Stop it." With just that, Camila turned her back. She walked back to her own room. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway and faded. Saki watched her go. (*What does Camila know?*) Even so, she had no intention of stopping. That night. Madame Vespa's private room. On the desk, several sheets of parchment. Reports received from a regular informant. "[cold] So, this delivery man called Marco?" Cold golden eyes looked at the man standing to report. "[serious] Yes. Saki approached him on her own. Pretending to ask for directions... behind the warehouse, they engaged in sexual intercourse." Vespa slowly narrowed her eyes. The report continued. How Saki moved, how she lured the man, how it ended — every detail was recounted. "[cold] Do you think she will go outside again?" "[cold] I intend to let her." Vespa's lips twisted slightly. The merchandise was moving on its own. And outside the brothel, no less. That was not a failure of management — it was a sign that more precise management was needed. The informant withdrew. Vespa opened her desk drawer. She took out a small piece of parchment. The name written on it — Gallon. She ran her pen across it. The letters were flowing, and cold. (*Interesting merchandise, if used correctly, gains even more value.*) She smiled again, with just her mouth. Night. The back menu. The underground special room. A windowless chamber. Mage-lights flickered red. Damp air. The smell of mold, sweat, and something cloyingly sweet. She was dragged in by the guards. One customer inside. She didn't know his face. A fallen noble, or a wealthy merchant. A ring glittered on his finger. A fat body. Greasy skin. "[cold] Hoh, today's woman is a new face." Saki said nothing. On the desk, a leather pouch. Crimson Dream powder. It was pressed to her nose and mouth. She inhaled. Heat raced through her. The skin all over her body grew sensitive. Her clothes were torn off. Her breasts exposed. The man's hands groped and kneaded them. She was pushed down onto the bed. The man's penis inserted. Pain and pleasure mingled. "Ah... aah." A voice leaked out. But — in a corner of her mind, Saki was observing. (*How does this man break? What is his weakness?*) She stared at the customer's face. His expression twisting with pleasure. His mouth hanging slack. Vacant eyes. One more. One more face to remember. Every time her consciousness nearly faded, she repeated it in her heart. (*Someday, I'll kill you.*) The word *control* emitted a dark light. The night ended. The next morning. When Saki opened her door, a small vial had been placed just outside. Wound medicine. Placed neatly, perfectly straight. Saki knew it was Aldo's way of leaving things. She picked up the vial. It was still warm — maybe he had been holding it until just moments ago. She stepped into the hallway. Camila was standing there. "[cold] That." A low voice. Camila snatched the vial from Saki's hand. Her silver eyes stared hard at it. She knew, too, that Aldo had left it. "[sarcastic] You tamed that man, too?" Saki didn't answer. Camila, her face still stern, silently pressed the vial back into Saki's hand. Their hands touched. Camila's fingers were cold and hard. "[whispers] Don't drag Aldo into this." Just that. Camila turned her back and left the hallway. Her footsteps receded. Saki gripped the vial. The glass was cold in her hand. Aldo was acting for her sake. Camila was wary of it. Inside this brothel, the relationships around her were slowly beginning to shift. (*Accelerating.*) Saki quietly returned to her room. She closed the door. Leaning against the wall, she looked up at the ceiling. Stains on the stone. Cracks. Deep in her chest, the word *control* shone brighter than ever before. At the same time — far away, in the office. Madame Vespa carefully folded the parchment she had finished writing and pressed her seal into the wax. A letter addressed to Gallon. Waiting for the wax to harden, Vespa looked out the window. The pale morning light was dyeing the cobblestones of the pleasure quarter white. "[whispers] Now, the real show begins." A voice no one could hear. Her black dress swayed, faintly.