I visited the other warehouses, stocked up on dairy products, and even found a place to sell so of the food from my Storage. Before leaving Earth, I had stocked up on a large amount of food. During our travels, I discovered mana-rich replacents for much of it, so I was always on the lookout for places to sell the “anemic” food. While I had sold so in the cultivators’ world, I still had a substantial supply to unload.
Mahya was back at the inn, and the mont she saw , she jumped up and rushed over. “Good, you’re back. We won’t eat dinner here; I found out about a better place.”
Her expression gave pause. I recognized the impish glint in her eyes all too well—it always signaled sothing I might end up regretting.
“Why do you look like that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I crossed my arms.
“Like what?” She tilted her head, the picture of mock innocence.
“Like you’re scheming.”
“I’m not!” She stiffened, the denial bursting out of her with too much force.
Her emphatic tone only made more suspicious. I locked eyes with her, holding her gaze. And waited. And waited. And waited.
She sighed. “Fine!” she said, throwing her hands in the air and looking frustrated. “It will be an educational experience for you.”
“For ?” My voice dripped with doubt as I raised an eyebrow.
“Yep.” She grinned, looking far too pleased with herself.
“So more details, maybe?”
She huffed, blowing an annoyed breath like Rue when he didn’t get his way. “You’ll see.”
She sent to change to "nicer clothes," and led to a tavern. The place was dimly lit, the warm glow of hanging lanterns barely cutting through the haze of pipe smoke and chatter. The scent of roasted at and alcohol mingled with sothing sharper, muskier, and different from the usual tavern sll. Mahya led inside with an unmistakable bounce in her step, her grin practically glowing in the low light.
“This,” she declared, spinning on her heel to face , “is what I call an educational experience.” Her impish glint dared to protest.
I glanced around the room. Won in tight, colorful dresses moved between tables, leaning in close to the patrons, their laughter as loud as the clink of mugs. A group of n sat nearby, raising their tankards in what looked like a drunken toast. I caught more than one of them glancing toward Mahya. Many n sat at the bar or around tall tables in groups, and for so reason, I got the impression they were on display. It wasn’t anything specific I could put my finger on—maybe just the vibe they exuded.
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Mahya slid onto a barstool, instantly catching the attention of two n who edged closer, batting their eyelashes and subtly flexing as they vied for her attention.
“Have fun,” she said, winking at . Her grin looked downright mischievous.
“We’re not sitting together?” I asked, frowning as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
“No. It would hamper the lesson.” She waved a hand dismissively, already turning toward the bar.
“What the hell are you talking about? What lesson?” My arms crossed instinctively as I stared after her, suspicion creeping into my voice.
“You’ll see.” She tossed over her shoulder, barely glancing back.
I sat far away from her and ordered a beer and dinner. While waiting for my food, a woman in a low-cut crimson dress appeared at my side, her hand grazing my arm. “You look like you could use so company,” she purred, her voice syrupy and sweet.
“Uh... I’m fine, thanks,” I said.
She didn’t budge. “Oh, co now. A handso man like you shouldn’t sit alone.”
Before I could escape, another woman joined her, draping herself on my other side. “Ignore her,” the second one said with a playful pout. “I’m much more fun.”
I shifted awkwardly, trying to disentangle myself. “I’m just here for food and drinks.”
“Oh, we can do drinks,” the first woman said, her fingers trailing over my shoulder. “And more, if you’ve got a gold to spare.”
I froze. “A gold? For what?”
She tilted her head toward a set of stairs at the back of the tavern. “Upstairs.” Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes glead with a predatory edge.
“Oh,” I stamred, leaning away.
A young woman at a nearby table caught my eye as I turned. She smiled coyly and patted the bench beside her. Grateful for the chance to sit sowhere that didn’t cost a gold piece, I approached hesitantly.
“Hello, I’m Azelioria. You alone tonight?” she asked, her voice smooth but not as polished as the others.
“Sort of,” I replied. “Are you... one of the, uh, entertainnt girls?”
Her eyes widened in shock, and before I could apologize, her hand connected with my cheek in a sharp slap. “How dare you!”
“Okay, not an entertainnt girl,” I muttered, rubbing my face.
The pattern repeated with startling regularity. So won didn’t bother introducing themselves and quickly offered a deal. As an aside, most of them asked for a gold or less. No wonder the girl in Hobbiton looked shocked when I gave her ten. The ones who did introduce themselves — Isarielle, Eolirina, Olariena — reacted as though I’d insulted them when I asked about their “profession.”
Mahya, anwhile, watched from her spot at the bar, giggling with her new admirers as they tripped over themselves to catch her attention. Now and then, she glanced my way, her shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.
By the ti I figured out the “na rule,” my pride had taken a serious nosedive, my cheek stung, and I was sure Mahya would never let live it down. Oh, and I was hungry. But … I didn’t just figure out the na thing. I also picked up on a specific vibe from the working girls—predatory and calculating, with a hint of disdain and detachnt. It was impossible to miss once I tuned into it—blatantly obvious, even.
Well, Mahya was right. It was an educational experience.
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