#1139 A Profession that Eases Loneliness

...Huu.
My name’s Rita-Shiera.

They say I’m the finest courtesan in the entire Human Kingdom.
Though let’s be honest, there’s always someone claiming to be “Number One” in this business, no matter where you go.

I’ve been in the trade for a long time now.

Back in the days when war was all anyone talked about, our kingdom was a much harsher place than you could ever imagine now.

Crops withered, harvests were pitiful, and people starved.
Parents couldn’t feed their children, and to avoid everyone starving to death, they’d sell one of their kids to a trafficker.

Nine times out of ten, they sold off a daughter.
After all, sons were more valuable in the fields or on the battlefield. Girls might be weaker physically, but if one happened to be pretty, she stood a chance of a better life.

Like mine, for instance.

— “Sweetie, you’re cute, I just know they’ll love you in the city.”

That was the last thing my parents ever said to me.
I haven’t seen them since, and I’ve no idea if they’re even alive.

As for me, I spent the first half of my life fighting tooth and nail to survive, much harder than most.
No time to spare worrying about anyone else.

The place they took me after I was torn from my parents was a brothel.
A business where men come to buy the pleasure of a woman’s body.

I grew up in the countryside, so it’s not like I had any illusions left to break; I’d seen livestock going at it often enough.
Even so, it was still a brutally rough environment for a young girl trying to survive.

Just because a girl gets sent to a brothel doesn’t mean she’s immediately tossed to the men.

Every place has its own routines and rules, and you start with training.

We’d learn under older, working courtesans, running errands for them, watching and imitating until we mastered the art.

Being a courtesan is service work, after all. If you can’t keep customers happy, you won’t last a second out on the main floor.
And until you’re recognized as a competent courtesan, your pay’s barely enough to survive. You get treated worse than the rats.

So I, and every country girl who arrived around the same time, threw ourselves into learning.
We studied how to lure men in, how to keep them wrapped around our little fingers.
It’s not like we were dying to give up our bodies. But we didn’t know any other way to live, so we did what we had to do.

Even in my supposedly miserable life, I caught a lucky break: the woman who took me under her wing. My mentor.

She was one of the top courtesans around, with a roster of high-paying clients. Her reputation was rock solid.
And she happened to love teaching her “little sisters,” so she gave me plenty of attention.

She drilled me in all the courtesan basics. By the time my body was mature enough, I bloomed into a full-fledged working girl.

Who knows how many years have passed since then?
Dozens... maybe hundreds of men have come and gone from my bed.

Soldiers who might die in battle tomorrow. Farmers who saved every last coin for one night they’d remember all their lives.
Nobles who abused the taxes they stole from the common folk to indulge themselves…

Some became regulars; others were just passing through.
But somehow, it’s those one-time-only customers who stay in my memory the strongest. Funny how that works.

Time kept marching on.

Now I’m approaching the end of my days as a “flower on display.”
I’ve lost track of my exact age, but I’m certainly pushing thirty.

In this line of work, that means you’re past your prime; only appealing to a certain niche crowd.
I came here as a novice when I was around ten, so, it’s been a long run.

“Hey, Rita-Shiera. Do you still remember your real name?”

One day, the mistress of the brothel called me in and threw that question at me out of nowhere.

“Of course I don’t. Ever since I was initiated here, I’ve only ever gone by Rita-Shiera.”

Naturally, a courtesan’s name is an alias. It’s rarely the same name she was born with.
Usually, you’re given this new name the first time you entertain a customer...that’s your official debut.

They named me Rita-Shiera at my debut.
I’ve been called that ever since. My original name is long lost to me.

“Sure is a trivial topic. Can we get to the real point now?”
“Ooh, so direct. Don’t tell me you speak like that in front of customers?”

Of course not.
Hiding my real feelings and feeding them vague little hints to get their hopes up. That’s the bread and butter of a courtesan, remember?”

“Heh, fair enough. No point playing mind games during official business. Let’s keep our talk short and sweet, right?”
“Exactly. Besides, I’m probably the only one who can get away with speaking so bluntly to the mistress of the brothel.”
“For now, anyway. Let’s see how long that mouth of yours lasts…”

The mistress takes a puff of smoke from her pipe and blows it out in a lazy swirl.

She used to be a courtesan herself. She’s tasted every bitterness this profession can serve.
She’s almost forty, but she’s still got a mysterious allure that could pass for a woman half her age. Even now, some customers specifically seek her out.

She’s like a supernatural being born from this weird underworld of ours.

“We got a message from the folks in charge.”
“?”
“Yeah, it’s what you wanted to know, so let’s cut to the chase.”

Folks in charge, huh?
That means the bigwigs in the capital, the aristocrats and royalty. Whenever they meddle, it’s never good news.

It’s true that when demons ran the kingdom for a while, things were a little better for us courtesans.
But now that power’s shifted back to humans, who knows what’s in store?

We’ve got ourselves a fresh new king… or is it a president?
Some hotshot who supposedly came to power by popular vote. He’s only twenty-something. That hardly inspires confidence in the kingdom’s future.

In the realm of politics, if you’re in your twenties, you’re basically still crawling around in diapers.
Putting a baby at the helm… well, let’s just say I’m not optimistic.

“Heh, you’re pretty sharp. As expected from our top earner.”
“I have to be, right? I have stay in the know to keep those big-spending customers chatting. It’s what you taught me, after all.”

The mistress snickers as she blows another cloud of smoke.

“So you’ve heard that this New Human Kingdom is working together with the demons on some sort of big project, yeah?”
“They’re clearing land, right? There’s a patch of unclaimed territory between our two nations, and they want to turn it into a place fit for people to live.”

I also heard something about a ‘Lord Saint’ showing up and founding a brand-new country over there.
Frankly, I can’t wrap my head around it.

It’s hard enough dealing with the three existing kingdoms.
I don’t even want to imagine the chaos by throwing a fourth one in the mix.

“I’ve heard rumors, sure. But even if they do build this new kingdom, it’ll take ages. Right now it’s just wilderness, so they’ll have to spend a good long while getting it ready for people.”

Talk about a never-ending job.

“They’ve sent a few hundred laborers from both the Human and Demon Kingdoms to handle the grunt work, and they’re obviously all men. You know what that means if they’re stuck out there for months on end…”
“They’re probably losing their minds from all that pent-up energy.”

We both giggle.
It’s almost like we can see the desperation of those poor men out there.

“So that’s why the order came down, huh?”
“The higher-ups want us to send as many courtesans as possible. Our brothel oversees the other establishments in the area, so I’m arranging a total of fifty girls to go on this ‘business trip.’”
“That’s quite the big show. We’re already short-staffed, you know…”

Yeah, last year out of the blue, we had a wave of courtesans up and quit all at once.
On a certain snowy day, a bunch of them ended up pregnant, like, a crazy number of them all got knocked up at the same time.

Stranger still, legitimate couples all over town conceived on that exact day, too. A total baby boom.
I still have no idea what that was about.

“It was the weirdest thing. We’re professionals; we know how to prevent pregnancy. And yet… poof.”
“And the strangest part is what happened afterward. Every single one who got pregnant was immediately claimed by the father and left to be with him, almost like fate singled out the pairs who actually loved each other.”
“Must’ve been some prankster god messing around.”

That baby boom ended up setting in motion the push to develop that new territory.
It’s funny how random events can ripple through the entire world, even hitting the courtesan trade.

“And now we have to ship off fifty of our girls to open up shop in that wilderness. Meanwhile, hardly any new recruits are showing up, since people are well-off these days and not selling their daughters anymore.”
“Still, there’ll always be lonely men out there, so I doubt our line of work is going anywhere anytime soon.”

Heh, she sure sounds confident.
Anyway, now I get the gist.

We have to send around fifty courtesans to keep these poor developers company.
It’s an official order, so we can’t refuse.

And that’s why she called me in.
Next comes the kicker…

“Rita-Shiera, I want you to head up those fifty courtesans and lead them to the new frontier. You’ll be going as our representative on behalf of all the human courtesans.”