(Two days later…)
The door creaked open, and Vittoria was led down a quiet hallway. The palace no longer looked as grand as it did before. The deeper she went, the colder it became. The walls were plain, the air heavy. She could feel something waiting on the other side of the door she now faced.
A maid knocked once, then pushed it open.
Inside stood a tall woman with silver streaks in her black hair, dressed in a flowing red robe. Her eyes were sharp, her face unreadable.
"You must be Vittoria," the woman said. "I'm Fiorella. From now on, you'll learn from me."
Vittoria stepped in slowly, glancing at the other girls already standing in line—four maids, all looking just as nervous as she was.
Fiorella's voice cut through the silence. "You are here because Lord Luciano has chosen you. That means you are expected to be more than just pretty faces. You will entertain. You will perform. And you will obey."
She walked slowly before them like a judge, eyeing each girl.
"Some of you think this is about looking beautiful. It's not. This is about control, elegance, and seduction. You are weapons, not flowers. You must learn how to use your eyes, your voice, your hands… every part of your body."
One girl raised her hand. "Are we all going to perform the same night?"
Fiorella chuckled lightly, but there was no humor in it. "That depends on your progress. Some of you might be used sooner, especially if the guests take a liking to you."
She stopped in front of Vittoria. "You… you have fire in your eyes. That can be useful. Or dangerous. Learn to control it."
Vittoria didn't answer, but held Fiorella's stare.
"Now, let's begin," Fiorella said sharply.
The next hour was strange and uncomfortable. The girls were made to walk slowly around the room, their shoulders straight, their heads high. They were corrected on how to sit, how to bow, how to smile without looking desperate.
Then came the harder part.
"You will also learn the art of seduction," Fiorella announced. "That includes voice training, the right words to say, and how to move."
She walked to the table and picked up a thin blindfold.
"Who wants to go first?"
No one stepped forward. Fiorella raised a brow.
"No volunteers? Then I'll pick."
She pointed at Vittoria.
"Come."
Vittoria hesitated, but stepped forward.
Fiorella tied the blindfold over her eyes. "Now, imagine a man standing in front of you. You want to draw him closer, without saying a word. Breathe slowly. Tilt your head slightly. Let your lips part, just a little…"
She walked around Vittoria, adjusting her shoulders. "Touch your neck. Slowly. Not like you're itching it—like it's an invitation."
The room was dead silent, every other girl watching.
After a while, Fiorella pulled off the blindfold.
"You'll all practice this every night until your movements become natural. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," the girls answered, some with trembling voices.
Fiorella moved to a new section of the room. "Now let's talk about the guests. Lord Luciano's guests come from powerful families. Some are leaders, others are rich merchants. What they enjoy here goes beyond wine and music."
She looked at them all, her expression turning cold.
"If a guest desires you… you will not say no."
Vittoria's eyes widened.
"You are all property in this place," Fiorella continued. "And satisfying our guests is part of the business deal. Your body is not your own here. Do you understand?"
Before anyone could reply, the door opened.
Two guards entered, dragging in a young woman between them.
She looked fragile—her skin pale, hair damp with sweat—but her eyes held a strange boldness. She wore a silk robe, and her lips were painted a deep red.
Fiorella smiled. "Ah. Perfect timing."
She turned to the girls.
"This is Rosalia. One of our finest courtesans."
Rosalia stood up straighter, ignoring her shaky legs.
"She will demonstrate how you satisfy a man… right here."
The room fell into thick silence.
Vittoria's heart dropped.
Rosalia was pushed into the center of the room. She stumbled slightly, but the guards held her firm. Fiorella turned to the nearest guard.
"You've been a good sport, haven't you?" she said, stroking his arm. "Let's show these new girls what they're in for."
The guard's expression remained stoic, but Vittoria could feel the tension in the room thicken as Rosalia knelt before him. She knew what was coming, had heard whispers, but this was the first time she saw it played out before her eyes. Rosalia was so calm, so… professional.
Fiorella stepped aside, her hand resting on Rosalia's shoulder. "Remember, girls, this is part of your education. Watch closely. You'll all be expected to perform to this standard."
With a nod from Fiorella, Rosalia gracefully approached the guard, her movements a silent dance of obedience and allure. The guard's eyes widened, a smug smile playing on his lips as he stepped into the center of the room. Vittoria's stomach knotted.
"You know exactly what to do, right?" Fiorella said to Rosalia, her voice like velvet.
Rosalia nodded, her eyes not leaving the guard's. She had a strange grace to her, a calmness that seemed almost out of place in this cold, stark room. The guard smirked, his hand resting on Rosalia's head as if he owned her.
"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Fiorella said, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. She stepped aside, giving Rosalia enough space to perform the degrading act.
Vittoria's heart pounded in her chest as Rosalia took a deep breath and approached the guard. She had never seen anything like this before. The thought of doing such a thing to a man, especially one who looked like he could crush her with his bare hands, made her feel sick. But Rosalia… Rosalia moved with a confidence that was almost terrifying.
With surprising strength, Rosalia pushed the guard's hand away and dropped to her knees. She reached up to his belt, her fingers deftly unbuckling it. The sound echoed through the room, a clear declaration of what was to come. The guard's smile grew as he stepped back, allowing Rosalia to continue. She pulled the belt through the loops, her eyes never leaving his, and Vittoria couldn't help but feel a strange sense of power in the air.