There was no one who disliked youth.
However, so people adored the vitality of youth, the potential of youth, and the creativity of youth, while others simply revered youth itself. Among the latter group, there were two distinct categories.
The first type of people regarded youth as a plaything—a commodity—while the second type regarded youth as capital—don't be mistaken; it isn't the sort of capital that generates profits, but rather, the capital to be willful.
The first group had a fervent inclination to draw the young and naive into their sordid circles, employing money, power, force, and even honeyed words at zero cost to toy with and exploit inexperienced youngsters.
The second group, primarily consisting of young people, mostly believed that there were only two phases in life: adolescence and youth. Without any reason to back them up, they reckoned that only the young had the right to flirt with dreams and indulge without restraint. Such individuals had an enthusiasm for mocking older strangers as "old ladies" or "greasy middle-aged n" as if they could never reach the age of those they mocked. Interestingly, within this group, there were so that overlapped with the first category and viewed others as playthings.
In China, these two types of people often had to hide behind masks to engage in their revelry; in a healthy human society, objectification, transaction, and discrimination of fellow humans, at the very least, in established rules and within the bounds of social norms, were prohibited and socially punishable.
However, in an environnt of human society that wasn't as healthy… The conditions were ripe for these two categories of people to run amok, and they would even prosper more than ordinary law-abiding citizens.
Weisshem didn't start out as a "financially affluent" town. Although the main street in the town was grandly constructed, the incomplete city walls exposed the fact that the town was nothing more than a nouveau riche creation. The three-ter-high walls could only cover the old town area, and the town's expansion in recent decades did not include walls; instead, it was guarded by the sturdy architecture of the brothel buildings.
This sort of makeshift exterior town defense was more than sufficient for Weisshem. The town was situated in an inland area with no main rivers around and not bordering other countries, only needed defending from wild beasts, the occasional wandering monster, bandits, and marauders.
"Elegant Dreams," a colossal entertainnt establishnt larger in scale than "Gold Coast," consisted of a four-story main building and two three-story auxiliary buildings. High walls, even taller than Weisshem's walls, connected the three buildings, with barbed wire lining the top. Had Ossirian, Lyka, or young Brook been at this club, they wouldn't have had any chance of escape.
In private, attendants of Weisshem referred to Elegant Dreams as a prison and its owner, Garcia Greene, a tyrant. However, when Greene learned of these nicknas by chance, he not only didn't get angry but also generously rewarded the slip of the tongue from a young attendant with two silver coins.
Greene loved the moniker "Tyrant." He was happy to hold such a unique position in Weisshem's "hospitality" circle.
Garcia Greene had once served a baron as a coachman for six years. The seemingly humble position of a coachman shouldn't be underestimated; in actuality, the ones closest to those noble, powerful gentlen and privy to their masters' secrets were personal coachn, if not butlers.
Greene, who had diligently driven the baron to various mistresses' residences for six years while protecting his master's secrets, gained the opportunity for an external posting when the baron needed to gain financial muscle to get close to certain countesses.
Thus, as an ambitious young man in his early twenties, Greene gained the authority to manage the baron's discretionary funds. He left the Rhine Kingdom's capital and arrived in the remote southern fringes of Weisshem to set up shop. While continually supplying "extramarital affair funds" to the baron for years, he quietly established a sort of "kingdom" of his own.
Whether the dedication of his youth to the baron's clandestine affairs held any value or aning had never concerned Garcia Greene.
He only cared for one thing. Elegant Dreams with its 42 enforcers, 19 servers, and 271 hostesses, where he was "king."
At five in the morning, a ti when most people were soundly dreaming, the "King's Ga" at Elegant Dreams had only just begun.
The basent of the main building was Greene's "playground." The cold blue brick floor was perpetually wet from a mixture of blood, tears, nasal secretions, and even so peculiar bodily fluids.
Green sat on a plush sofa, sipping red wine. Before him was a coffee table, and across the table, bound to stone pillars, were a man and a woman.
The man was incredibly robust. His trembling muscular body adorned with whip marks was a testant to his identity… He was an enforcer of Elegant Dreams.
In contrast, the woman was frail, with disheveled long hair framing her sunken cheeks. Her flesh seed saggy, and even while bound, she couldn't maintain her balance, her body hanging to the side.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Greene, it wasn't intentional… Please forgive …" the trembling enforcer continuously pleaded under Greene's frightening gaze.
He had personally carried out several corpses out of this basent and understood all too well what being brought down here entailed.
Garcia Greene chuckled and put his wine glass down. He picked up a riding crop and pointed it at the half-dead woman. "Look at Sibyl, she can't even resist if I were to feed her cow's piss. Yet, you sohow 'failed to notice' she stopped taking the fattening drug. Tell , Ben, how much is your apology even worth?"
Ben shuddered and closed his eyes in agony.
"Maybe I would have understood if you showed pity to a young and pretty hostess…" Greene circled around from behind the coffee table and stood in front of Ben. "But you violated the rules for this kind of trash. Tell , Ben, are you right in the head? Are you suddenly going to go crazy like those church fellas say?"
Ben's face paled.
To instill fear in people and discourage anyone from associating with heretics, most churches employed the most severe punishnt thods for those who lost their minds—typically, burning at the stake.
Ben no longer dared to hide anything. Stamring, he gave his reason, "N-no, Mr. Greene, it-it's actually… just that Sibyl is nearly of age… I-I didn't want her to spend her last half-year…"
Weisshem belonged to the Rhine Kingdom, and though there was a tacit understanding with regard to rules that applied to countries in this world, including the Rhine Kingdom, noblen that wielded power and authority still had to act like they were decent people on the surface.
For instance, everyone knew that Weisshem's attendants had debatable origins, had no personal freedom, no employnt benefits, no salaries or retirent pensions, and perhaps even lacked the guarantee of regular als. However, the noblen still docunted so seemingly humane "labor protection" for these unfortunate souls.
One such rule stated that attendants working in Weisshem's special industry needed to have their "employnt contracts" terminated if they had worked for 10 years or reached the age of 26.
This particular rule, whether it was intended to give the attendants a glimpse of freedom or enable owners to legitimately dispose of "problematic assets" without consequences, at the very least offered the attendants a chance to break free from their "employers." This ant they no longer had to endure being forced to consu the highly harmful fattening drugs originally intended for livestock, and perhaps, there was hope for them to live beyond the age of 30.
Sibyl was approaching 26—at least, that was what was written in her "contract" (indenture).
On hearing this, Garcia Greene was first slightly taken aback before he burst into hearty laughter.
"By Lady Gold Coin! Oh, Ben, I never dread that I'd have such a pure and innocent young lad as you working under !" Greene chortled so hard tears welled up in his eyes. Hugging his belly in one hand, he waved the riding crop in the other and beckoned at the marks on Ben's battered body. "You are deserving of praise, dear Ben. This is your reward from . Like it? Do you like it, huh?"
Ben gritted his teeth and endured the pain, not daring to let out a scream.
During the "King's Ga," when the King declared a reward, anyone who showed resistance would undoubtedly et a grim fate.
Greene continuously administered over a dozen lashes until he began to wheeze. Only then did he stop.
When Ben, who was about to faint from the pain, realized that Greene was panting, the latter returned back to the sofa and sat down, hiding his slightly trembling right hand while using his left to pick up his wine glass.
This despicable man, while hiding his breathlessness behind the guise of having a drink, peered at Ben in jealousy.
He was past 40, and Ben, who had just turned 30, possessed physical strength and stamina that far surpassed him.
It was only by recklessly trampling on these youthful and vibrant lives that Greene could find so semblance of balance.
Suddenly, the stairs to the basent echoed with hurried footsteps.
The only one among the hundreds of Elegant Dream's staff who dared disturb Greene when he was relaxing was Phoebe, a stunning 19-year-old headliner attendant.
Indeed, it was the gorgeous Phoebe, dressed only in a sexy nightgown, who pushed open the iron door to the basent. She rushed in, flustered, and went straight to Greene, completely oblivious to the bloodied Ben and barely alive Sibyl.
"Sothing is happening upstairs, Garcia! Sothing terrible!" Phoebe clung to Greene's arm intimately, suggesting that their relationship was more than just that of an employer and an employee. "I-I hear many people running and screaming. As if sothing has happened!"
Greene liked this sort of young fool that reckoned she was different from others just because he gave her a few extra benefits. Gently, he consoled the young lady, "Don't worry, dear. Stay right here. I'll head upstairs and take a look."
Phoebe nodded and watched adoringly as Greene left.
She was very beautiful and also young. Given her age, she couldn't possibly distinguish whether Greene's "extra tenderness" toward her was rely for amusent or if he was genuinely captivated by her pristine charm.
After Greene left the basent, Sibyl finally summoned the courage to move.
Self-proclaid "King" Garcia Greene had no interest in wasting his efforts on trash like Sibyl; however, the punishnt that Ben endured had also terrified this unfortunate woman.
Sibyl, who had gone the entire day without food or water, couldn't even cry when she saw Ben's miserable state. All she could manage was a faint, apologetic murmur.
Ben shook his head and turned away, refusing to look at her.
Sibyl licked her parched lips and glanced at the kettle on the coffee table, feeling even thirstier.
"P-Phobe… Can you give so water? Please…" Holding a tiny glimr of hope, Sibyl gathered the courage to plead with the young headliner.
Phoebe turned to look at her, then poured a glass of water and went over.
Just as Sibyl lifted her head to drink, Phoebe splashed the water on her face.
"Here, drink." Phoebe lifted her chin in disdain and waved the empty glass.
Sibyl stared at her in disbelief, the fire in her eyes gradually fading, and she returned to her previous half-conscious state.
Ben glanced at the trembling Sibyl, then shifted his gaze to Phoebe, the headliner who now returned to the sofa, leaning back arrogantly with her feet propped up.
"You shouldn't have done that," Ben couldn't hold back any longer and spoke up. "I've served Mr. Greene for nine years, and in those nine years, I've seen headliners after headliners. Do you know what happened to them in the end?"
Phoebe, her face twisted in disgust, spared a disdainful glance at the disheveled Ben. She had no interest in engaging with this foolish man who had angered Garcia. Rolling her eyes, she turned away.
"You—"
Ben was about to say more when a strange rattling echoed from the direction of the iron door.
Before the three in the basent could discern what this strange noise was, the iron door was kicked open with a resounding crash.
"Who… Aaahhhhh!!!"
Phoebe, who was about to be enraged, leaped up as if her butt had caught fire and ran to the other end of the basent, screaming her head off.
Bursting into the basent were several skeletons ard with sharp knives and clad in bizarre scale armor.
"O Lady Gold Coin!" Despite hurting badly from the lashes, Ben shouted in panic and struggled when he saw the skeletons.
Sibyl, on the other hand, had the most imdiate reaction. As soon as the skeletons burst into the room, she fainted without so much as making a sound.
These reaper-like skeletons seemingly full of murderous intent… acted strangely on the contrary.
Instead of attacking the trio as Phoebe and Ben had feared, the skeletons stopped in their tracks and, to the astonishnt of the forr two, started communicating with each other in a bizarre, grating language.
"KABAKBAKABA!"
"KEUKEUEKUE!"
———
"What the heck! Why are there only civilians? Where's the boss? Where are the elite monsters??"
"Are you kidding ?! Such a basent hidden deep underground and no boss! F*cking devs must be retarded!"
"I can't believe this. We might as well have continued looting the rooms!"
The few players complained in frustration and, clinging to a glimr of hope, cast "Identify" on the three NPCs in the basent.
"Ah! That female NPC's necklace is worth 80 copper coins according to Identify!" one of them pointed at Phoebe and exclaid with delight.
"Wait, wait, she's just a civilian. Is it okay to loot civilians?" another player quickly interjected.
"If the system doesn't warn us against it, then it should be fine." The player who had Identified Phoebe's necklace wasn't too bothered and strode toward Phoebe, who had retreated to a corner in panic.
Phoebe was scared witless and let out a piercing scream as she ran toward Ben.
But she barely took a step before the player caught up.
The player grabbed Phoebe by the arm, snatched the necklace off her neck, and took possession of the solid gold pendant.
"Eh? It's lootable! The system didn't issue any warning!" said the player in pleasant surprise.
Satisfied with the loot, the player abandoned the squealing Phoebe and gleefully returned to his group.
Phoebe, who had narrowly escaped death, remained in a daze.
"How much reward does healing an 'injured civilian' like this grant?" the player who had Identified Ben asked a fellow compatriot.
"I think it depends on the severity. It ranges from a minimum of 20 to a max of 100," replied the other player.
"At least 20 points of territory prestige, huh? That's not bad," muttered the forr as he took out a few small vials from his waist pouch.
A player advancing to the apothecary lifestyle class would receive a basic apothecary kit from the NPC instructor, which was essentially basic potion-making tools.
These tal vials were also obtained from the Apothecary Instructor. These were modern industrially produced items that were inexpensive and were originally designed for storing dicine, though so unscrupulous traders would repurpose them for other uses, which wouldn't be further elaborated on…
Ben, who couldn't break free from his restraints, felt absolute despair as he was approached by the player.
The deathly skeleton walked up to him and raised a steel knife.
With a cold flash, the knife swung swiftly and cleanly severed the ropes binding Ben.
The skeleton re-sheathed its knife, then unscrewed a small steel bottle, pouring out a pungent, thick fluid, on which it then dabbed its bony fingers before applying it to Ben's wounds.
Ben: "?!"
Ben was so dumbfounded he forgot to call out to Lady Gold Coin or even thought about escaping. He simply stared at the skeleton who was earnestly tending to his wounds.
Visitors that ca to Weisshem weren't all law-abiding people. Occasionally, enforcers like Ben would tussle with n brought by such guests, and he was rather familiar with the sll of hemostatic ointnt.
Ordinary hemostatic ointnt, being applied on his body by an absolutely extraordinary skeleton, left Ben utterly baffled.
Ben's external injuries were relatively easy to deal with, but the unconscious Sibyl posed a challenge for the other two players.
"A weakened civilian… How do we handle this? Applying dicine?"
"I don't know!"
"Can't you check her pulse and symptoms, like a diagnosis or sothing?"
"Brother, I'm a computer science guy!"
The player earning territory prestige while tending to Ben turned back and suggested, "How about giving sothing to eat or drink? Didn't those few NPCs Blossoming Strokes and the others save get better after a few als?"
"Don't have any! Who would bring along food when sieging a town?"
The player that had snatched Phoebe's pendant said, "How about we just leave her here for now and co back later? Didn't the big shots say that we lack the numbers and should take down all who can resist before rescuing civilians? Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to handle both at once."
"That works." The other two nodded in agreent as they lifted Sibyl and placed her on the sofa.
Once the player applying ointnt received his territory prestige reward, the four of them left the dumbfounded Ben and Phoebe and went their own way…
A while after the four skeletons had left, Ben and Phoebe were finally able to move their frozen limbs, and they crawled to the door and peered out.
The stairwell was empty; the skeletons had indeed left.
Without a second thought, Phoebe lifted her skirt and dashed off. She wanted to find Garcia. Only in the presence of Garcia, who represented absolute authority and strength in her eyes, could she feel safe.
Ben didn't care where Phoebe was going. He returned to the basent, found his shirt, and put it on before hoisting the unconscious Sibyl onto his back and hurrying away.
This was probably the aspect most overlooked by players—they never considered that the civilian NPCs awaiting their rescue would run away. Even the two strategists, Blossoming Strokes and Unceasing Entropy, believed that the civilian NPCs would patiently wait in place for their return.
Of course, these civilian NPCs who were deed harmless couldn't actually escape. Ben ran out of the basent and hadn't even made it out of Elegant Dream's courtyard when he saw a bunch of skeletons running past on the street outside.
The rattling sounds as the skeletons ran were accompanied by a seemingly excited chattering in a strange language.
"KABAKABA."
"KUEKUEUEU."
Ben was terrified and retreated back to the main building…
He didn't know where Garcia Greene had gone, nor did he know where his fellow enforcer comrades were. The entire Elegant Dream club was eerily quiet. With Sibyl on his back, Ben wandered through the corridors on the ground floor like a headless fly but didn't see a single person.
Even more bizarre, the lobby and corridors were a ss, but it didn't look like the aftermath of a battle; instead, it appeared as if burglars had ransacked the place…
"What on earth happened?" Ben was completely bewildered. After hesitating for a mont, he pushed open the door to a room near the lobby.
There were people in this room. A dozen or so male and female attendants were huddled inside and looking anxiously toward the door.
Seeing that it was just Ben, these people visibly sighed in relief.
Ben quickly scrutinized the group and recognized a female attendant about Sibyl's age whom he had helped out in secret before. "Kaylie, what's going on?"
"Shut the door first," said Kaylie anxiously.
Ben hurriedly used his foot to shut the door and gestured for the attendants to vacate the sofa so he could lay Sibyl down.
Next, the male and female attendants each recounted what they experienced, piecing together the horrifying events of that night…
"Undead broke in through the windows? Guests and n were all tied up and robbed clean by the undead?" Ben was dumbfounded.
The attendants nodded, still visibly shaken. "It's true. I was terrified at the ti… Those undead didn't pay any attention to us, but we didn't dare stay in our rooms."
Kaylie added, "We wanted to go outside, but there were even more undead. Everyone had no choice but to hide in this empty private room."
"What about Greene?" Ben asked the question he was most concerned about.
"Mr. Greene…" Kaylie gulped and muttered fearfully, "He resisted those undead and was cut down by them. That was the first ti I saw the undead act so ruthlessly. Their previous thods had been relatively gentle… Please, don't ever confront those undead, Ben. You can't imagine how terrifying they are when they attack the living!"
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