The gamble paid off.
A week later, Grey sat at his desk, sorting through the bills that had piled up at the brothel during his absence.
Josh had just delivered a message from Achilles.
It said that the battlefield had indeed drawn plenty of curious eyes. A patrol squad, several bandit gangs, adventurers, as well as cultists from the Merciful Flame's Cult had spent several days following the trail they had left behind, hoping to find those responsible, but without success.
Achilles, Garen, Zebra, and Josh had truly done an outstanding job.
Knowing how disastrous the consequences would be if they failed, the teenagers had chosen to take a dangerous risk.
They had really followed the pack of Green-Toothed Hyenas, hunting down the stragglers and the wounded beasts. The trail of corpses stretched for several kilometers.
Anyone who started to suspect something would inevitably follow that trail.
The only problem was that it led straight to the real den of the Green-Toothed Hyenas.
From Achilles' report, Grey learned that the den was nothing more than a cave filled with bones. Even the most meticulous investigator would never be able to determine what had become of the "hyena hunters."
The cultists were unlikely to dig any deeper. After all, Achilles had done everything he could to make the teenagers' work look like the handiwork of a group of skilled adventurers or mercenaries. That had nothing to do with the cult and was hardly something that would truly catch their interest.
Grey set the letter aside, let out a long breath, and leaned back in his chair.
For the first time that week, he felt his mind finally relax. Now he could truly say that the danger had passed.
It wasn't that he hadn't been prepared for the possibility of their base being discovered. On the contrary, after returning, he had done everything in his power to minimize the casualties if things went wrong.
He had returned to "Venus' Embrace," taken Sunny, Hope, Lily, and Cheryl with him. They had no ties to the Merciful Flame's Cult, so there was no reason for them to be put at risk. Then he had delivered supplies to his subordinates, ordered them to erase every trace of their presence in the old manor, and hide in the cellar if they noticed anything suspicious.
He understood perfectly well that such precautions could hardly be called reliable.
If their base was truly discovered, Grey could only pray that the teenagers wouldn't reveal his identity. He had neither the strength nor the resources to save them. All he could do was watch as the cult erased the evidence, then try to take revenge later.
Fortunately, those preparations had turned out to be unnecessary. He wouldn't have to burn all his bridges behind him.
If Grey's body hadn't been only twelve years old, he would have gladly lit a cigarette to celebrate the good news. He was so relieved that he simply closed his eyes and listened to the silence, as if it were the most beautiful melody in the world.
Unfortunately, he didn't get to enjoy the peace for long. Someone knocked on the door.
Grey pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to gather his thoughts.
"It's open," he said, returning to his paperwork.
Monica entered with a glass of water. She had been worried because the boy had barely left his room lately. She hadn't even seen him training in the mornings, even though he had never skipped his morning workout before.
In truth, Grey had never stopped training. So much work had piled up during his absence that even with both personalities working in shifts, they only managed to finish late in the evening. Naturally, to get everything done, he had to wake up even earlier, while everyone else was still asleep.
But the woman didn't know that.
"Are you alright?" Monica asked. She set the glass on the desk, placed her hands on his shoulders, and gently began massaging his stiff muscles.
"It's not healthy for a teenager like you to stay cooped up in your room all day. Tell me honestly, is something bothering you? Do you need help?"
"I'm fine." Grey didn't brush her hands away, but he had no intention of explaining any further. "A few problems came up, but everything worked out in the end."
Lately, his relationship with Monica had improved again. Without ever saying it aloud, they had reached an understanding and no longer argued over trivial things.
Grey knew that Monica saw him as her own child, so he simply accepted her care. It didn't cost him any effort, and Monica always tried not to be overly intrusive with her affection.
"Did you come just to check on me, or is there something that needs my attention?" he asked, closing his eyes and enjoying the massage.
"Can't I come without a reason?" Monica asked with a laugh.
"Of course you can. It's just that this is working hours, and the group of craftsmen I hired to remodel the main hall was supposed to finish today."
"Hehe, what a clever boy. If you already know, why ask such a silly question?"
"Then let's go and see how they did." Grey immediately rose from his chair. He couldn't wait to see with his own eyes the project he had put so much effort into.
Just one month after Lady Veronika had agreed to hire him to manage the finances, Grey had begun planning major changes for the brothel. He wanted to turn it into a nightclub. A place where people would gladly pay not only for carnal pleasure, but also for the atmosphere, the music, and the chance to have a good time.
Deep down, he also dreamed of creating something that would remind him of his old world. He missed his carefree life very much.
And now, at last, his efforts had borne fruit. The main hall, where customers had once been greeted, had finally been renovated.
Grey was so excited that he couldn't calm his racing heart. It felt as though he wasn't about to inspect a hall, but step onto a stage before the entire city. Even life-and-death battles had never stirred this much emotion in him.
"You didn't forget that you're supposed to pay the craftsmen the rest of the money, did you?" Monica reminded him when she noticed he had already reached the door.
"Right." Grey slapped his forehead.
He quickly reached beneath his mattress, where he kept his personal savings along with the portion of Venus' Embrace's earnings that he was allowed to manage.
The renovation had been expensive. Very expensive by Thorn's Cloaca's standards. A full one hundred gold coins!
Grey didn't even want to remember how many complaints, reproaches, and curses he had endured from Lady Veronika throughout all this.
He hurriedly grabbed the pouch of coins, took Monica's hand, and headed off to inspect the finished work.
Originally, this had been a spacious hall that resembled a Roman atrium. It was where the girls greeted customers, waited to be chosen, and negotiated the price for the night.
Now the entire space had been transformed.
Wide cushioned benches, more like low sofas, had been arranged around the perimeter. A small table stood in front of each one, giving guests a place to sit, catch their breath, have a drink, and smoke.
The dance floor now occupied most of the hall. The open space, high ceilings, and smooth marble floor made it perfect for that purpose.
Grey could already imagine the surprise on the faces of the first visitors when they realized this place was no longer meant for carnal pleasure. It had become a place for dancing, something ordinary people had never been able to experience. Only nobles could afford such a luxury.
More than anything, Grey wanted to change that unspoken rule.
"I don't understand," Monica interrupted his thoughts. "How is changing the interior going to help us make more money? You spent so much, but what was wrong with the way it looked before? To be honest... it looks a little cheap now."
Grey leaned against a pillar and smiled. He didn't blame Monica for being skeptical. After all, the kind of entertainment he was proposing was completely unheard of in this world. It was only natural that she had doubts.
"That's true. We had to remove the extra decorations to free up space. It does look rather plain right now, but once we add music and get the disco ball spinning, you'll understand the magic of this place."
Grey's explanation failed to convince Monica. If anything, she frowned even more and slowly shook her head.
"It really does sound wonderful. But where's the profit? You couldn't have spent all those coins just to sell people a floor and some walls. Lady Veronika will never forgive you." Monica was genuinely worried.
She had worked in this business for many years and simply couldn't understand how changing the interior would help them earn more. Customers wouldn't pay higher prices just because the girls greeted them in a newly decorated hall, and the girls themselves wouldn't be able to serve more clients. In Monica's opinion, it would have been far more effective to buy prettier dresses that revealed a little more skin.
As far as Monica was concerned, Grey had just wasted an enormous amount of money that wasn't even his. That could easily become a serious problem.
"Wrong!" Grey shook his head. "I don't want to increase the demand for the girls. I want to change the whole approach. We'll be selling the atmosphere, the chance to relax and enjoy a performance. You'll be able to put on shows, dance, and the customers will pay to watch," he explained as simply as he could.
"Are you sure you're alright, Grey?" Monica asked again, even more concerned than before. "Do you really think our customers are that foolish? They don't come here to watch. They come here to satisfy their lust. Why would they care about dancing?"
Grey wanted to grab his head.
"Listen. I know people won't accept the changes right away, but over time... it'll be a completely different story. Did you learn the dance I taught you?"
"You mean those simple moves for taking off clothes to music? There wasn't anything difficult about them," Monica replied at once, though she still didn't understand where he was going with this.
"Do you think your customers would enjoy a dance like that?" Grey asked again.
"Of course. I have no doubt about it," Monica answered confidently.
"Then imagine stopping halfway through the dance. Do you think the customer would be willing to pay extra to see more?"
"..."
Monica fell silent, though she didn't look truly convinced.
"If I really stopped, the customer would be so worked up that he'd just rip my clothes off. That would be much easier than parting with his money."
"Heh." Grey let out a grim chuckle. "I'd like to see him try. I've already changed the rules of this establishment. If a customer gets rough, he'll be thrown out immediately. I've already hired Centurion-ranked adventurers for exactly that reason. If he wants to see more, he'll have to pay."
At last, Monica understood what Grey was trying to achieve, but she still wasn't sure it could work in practice.
"Then how are they supposed to release all the sexual tension we've built up?"
"That's not our problem," Grey replied coldly. "They can do whatever they want. Go home to their wives, use their own hands, or screw pigs. Our job is simply to give them a show."
"You're going to forbid the girls from sleeping with customers?" Monica asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"I'm not forbidding it. I just don't want them to force themselves anymore. The girls should decide for themselves whether they want to sleep with a customer. Let the men win them over. Give them gifts, compliment them, dance with them, or pay outrageous sums. Once a man is aroused enough, he's no longer in control of his own mind. So what chance does his wallet have?"
"It... might actually work. It's just... such an unusual idea..." Monica murmured thoughtfully, as if trying to picture it in her mind.
Grey had no intention of explaining any further.
Yes, this was the first stage of his plan: to turn the brothel into a strip club. He had already taught the girls how to move in ways that drew men's attention without a word, held their gaze, and kept them wanting more. The prostitutes would become his first dancers, but others would gradually join them.
The key was to change the rules little by little, without forcing them. Let the customers get used to the new format before slowly introducing the next step.
Only after people had adapted would he introduce the concept of a regular nightclub.
Grey wasn't all-powerful.
He simply couldn't change long-established traditions on a whim. That was why he moved carefully, trying not to shock either the customers or even the prostitutes themselves. Only then could he leave his mark on this world, a world that belonged to the strong.
At that moment, Lydia walked in.
The grown succubus, disguised as an ordinary human, wore a teasing smile on her face.
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