The Brothel Maiden: A Sold Girl's Rise to Prominence Through Reasoning Chapter 45

Chapter 45

The cafés in the royal capital were overflowing with couples.

No surprise there—during the day, Tranlene’s cafés were packed with n escorting courtesans. It was common practice. Even the courtesans Josée knew personally were hard at work, charming their clients and gently weaving threads that would guide them toward the brothel once night fell, like spiders spinning delicate webs.

As Josée glanced around, she couldn't help but think that to an outsider, she and Serge probably looked like just another courtesan and her client. Coming from Sarana, she still found it strange how openly n—from nobles to commoners—paraded around with courtesans in a country that supposedly embraced monogamy. Honestly, she thought they should just adopt polygamy like Sarana. It’d be a lot simpler.

Once they were shown to their seats and settled in, Josée tilted her head and asked, “Serge, you're still not married?”

The question caught him off-guard. He stiffened.

“...Where did that co from all of a sudden?”

“You’re twenty-five, right? If you don’t hurry, all the good girls will be taken.”

Serge gave her a long, exasperated look, as if he wanted to say sothing—but Josée had already turned her attention to the nu. With a sigh, he answered plainly.

“If I got married, I wouldn’t be free anymore.”

“Oh? So you’re the type who treasures his freedom, huh, Serge? But for soone like that, you don’t seem all that interested in won.”

“Freedom doesn’t an playing around with won,” he replied, his tone firm. “It’s about living true to myself. I think I’d regret it forever if I let my parents force into marrying a noblewoman.”

That made sense. Noble sons were often expected to follow the path their families laid out for them. Maybe that’s why so many of them ended up frequenting brothels—they were trying to breathe, even if just for a mont.

“I see... So what kind of freedom are you looking for, exactly?”

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe that’s why I beca a representative—to try and make that freedom real. This country is strangled by class and religious restrictions. I want to start untangling that ss with the new parliantary system.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you think there are too many rules that dictate how people live? Won are expected to stay in the ho. Children are treated like their parents’ property, their lives undervalued. And n are crushed by the weight of expectations. It’s suffocating.”

“Huh... I’ve never thought about it like that.”

Josée had always lived on the fringes of society—as a foreigner and a brothel owner, she was detached from the rules that governed everyday life. She’d never felt the kind of pressure Serge described.

“So you want to build a freer society?”

“Yeah. I think that would make life easier for , too.”

“Is life hard for you, Serge?”

The question struck deep. Serge let out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah. It really is.”

“I see... But you’ve never said anything like that before.”

“I never felt the need to say it out loud.”

“But now you do?”

He gave another dry chuckle, then called over a waiter and ordered two sets of three types of sandwiches and coffee.

“...You see right through everything, Josée.”

“I’ll listen if you want to talk. Cos with the job. You’d be surprised how many clients cry during sessions or pour out their hearts. n have to put up a front in public. So when they finally let go, the dam bursts.”

From Josée’s perspective, Serge was no different. He fit that mold exactly. And Serge, for his part, silently mocked himself for finding comfort in her sympathy. But it wasn’t unwelco.

“Yeah, lately my parents have been breathing down my neck.”

“I figured.”

“They were all supportive when I first beca a representative. But now that they see I’m actually serious about politics, they’re telling to quit.”

“Huh? Why would they do that?”

“It’s ridiculous... My father believes he has to control his son. Classic toxic patriarchy. If the head of a noble household can’t make his child obey, people think he’s failed. And if the child pushes back, they’re labeled a disappointnt—no one even tries to understand. It’s a vicious cycle. Parents and children both end up miserable.”

“Ah... yeah. Everyone’s so worried about appearances, but no one really wins.”

“Lately, they even started picking out a marriage partner for —without asking.”

Josée’s expression softened.

“That’s rough. Must be hard being a noble... You don’t even get to choose who you marry.”

“That’s part of why brothels make such good money. Just look around—so many courtesans.”

“But that doesn’t an won beco courtesans because they love it. It’s not like they have many options. The pay for actresses, singers, dancers—it's awful. They can't survive on that. That’s why a lot of my girls ended up here. Out of necessity.”

“Huh... I used to think courtesans led pretty free lives, but I guess that’s not really the case.”

Their order arrived. As Serge bit into a sun-dried tomato and mozzarella sandwich, he gazed up at the clear blue sky and asked, “By the way... about the underworld society. Josée, can you dance?”

“I can. I’ve learned from various gentlen.”

“Various, huh... what kind of guys?”

“Hehe. What’s with the sudden jealousy? Of course they were clients. You’re acting weird today, Serge. Seriously, what’s going on?”

“...Whatever. Just make sure you pick a dress that’s easy to dance in. Long enough to cover your ankles. And skip the flashy accessories—especially if it’s your first ti. It’ll be crowded, and if you drop sothing, it’ll cause a scene. Stick to simple stuff, or costu jewelry. Sothing you won’t mind losing.”

“Huh. I figured since we’re eting the King, I should go all out. But I guess not?”

“It’s a social event, not a fashion show. So of the younger crowd show up all dolled up and get talked about behind their backs. People wonder what they’re even doing there. You can’t afford to lose sight of your goal.”

“I see... So it’s a social gathering to get closer to His Majesty.”

Serge’s brows furrowed at that.

“...To His Majesty?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that the point of these events?”

“Well, yeah, but... wait. Josée, are you trying to beco His Majesty’s mistress?”

She blinked, genuinely surprised.

“What’s with you, Serge? And if I were—what would you do?”

Serge leaned back in his chair, giving her a look that was part disbelief, part sothing else entirely. Josée caught the expression and, for so reason, her heart skipped a beat.