They walked inside for quite a while before finally seeing a red door. Because the surroundings were so dark, the red of the door had turned into a deep, blood-clotted shade.
After opening the door, inside wasn’t very big—a desk, a sofa with a coffee table, a safe in the corner by the window, and, surprisingly, a small liquor cabinet tucked away in another corner.
“This is my Office. Have a seat.”
Daila gestured casually at the sofa, then headed straight for the liquor cabinet.
She grabbed a half-finished bottle of amber Whiskey from the cabinet with practiced ease and took a few swigs.
Aier guessed that Daila’s staggering earlier was probably because she’d been drinking quite a bit in the Office.
Daila noticed her gaze, shook the bottle, and curled her lips into a mischievous smile. “What? Want a drink? Here, I brushed my teeth this morning.”
“N-no, thank you. I can’t handle that,” Aier hurriedly shook her head.
Lame.
Daila muttered to herself, taking another gulp. Her movements were so rough and skilled, it was as if alcohol was nothing more than water to quench her thirst.
“You don’t need to be so nervous, relax. Like I said, this is a high-class place that only serves Nobles. It’s way cleaner than those chaotic places in the Central District, so you don’t need to worry about any shady business.”
“I-I’m just not used to being in places like this.”
Aier mumbled defensively, her fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her clothes. She sat rigidly on the very edge of the sofa, back ramrod straight, as if afraid she’d get dirty if she touched anything.
“Not used to it? Before, you…”
Daila was about to say, as a Noble Offspring, you must have attended plenty of balls.
But then she remembered—this girl lost her Noble status at fifteen or sixteen, so she probably hadn’t gone to many at all.
So Daila changed her words. “It’s nothing. The more you drink, the more you see, you’ll get used to it.”
“Um, can we talk about the job now?”
Aier summoned her courage and lifted her emerald eyes, looking at Daila with a trace of urgency as she asked the question she cared about most.
Daila smiled. “Alright. The base Salary is 10 silver coins a month, and you get half of the tips you receive. As for drink commissions, those will be added to your monthly Salary. When we pay Salary each month, we’ll deduct half directly to pay off your Debt. That okay?”
Daila slouched into the chair behind the desk, carelessly kicked off her shoes, and propped her legs up on the desk. The bottle in her hand tilted with the angle of the chair, pouring out the fragrant liquor.
It was a stark contrast to Aier’s uptight posture; anyone could tell who was the good girl and who was the delinquent.
“So…when do I work, and what do I do when business starts?” Aier asked timidly.
Daila: “Of course, you’ll be drinking and chatting with guests. Basically, you’re here to set the mood. The people who come to drink here are all respectable folks—drinking is secondary, it’s all about business and connections. Just stand by, pour drinks, refill water, and look pretty like a vase.”
She seemed to see right through Aier’s thoughts, half comforting, half teasing. “With how timid you are, who’d ever come here just for a block of wood like you?”
“As for working hours, it’s from six in the evening until two in the morning,” Daila added lazily.
So even after reincarnating, I still end up working the night shift… Aier suddenly remembered all the late-night study sessions from her previous life. Fate really is inescapable.
“I understand everything,” Aier nodded stiffly.
“Good. Then you’ll start work tonight, alright?” Daila’s eyes burned into her.
“O-okay.” Aier lowered her gaze and answered.
Daila smiled in satisfaction, then seemed to remember something, her tone turning subtle. “Oh right, if you ever need to go to a room with an Earl or Madam at night, remember to let me know in advance.”
Aier was stunned, staring blankly at Daila. “Huh? I thought…I didn’t have to stay the night?”
Daila snorted, giving her a look that said “Are you really this clueless or just pretending?” “There’s always a chance. With your looks, it’s normal if someone can’t resist. Besides, it’s all voluntary. Our Boss is a pretty important Noble, so if you’re not willing, you can refuse. But if you really do spend the night, the pay…well, you know.”
“I-I understand.” Aier’s voice was barely a whisper, her heart sinking to the bottom.
She could only pray in her heart: Heavens, please don’t let anyone ask for me, and definitely don’t let anyone take me to a room.
That kind of worry was definitely not unnecessary.
In a place like this, a fresh, clean face was just like plain porridge to those Earls and Madams who were sick of heavy makeup—something simple and appealing, delivered right to their lips.
“Have you eaten?” Daila suddenly changed the subject.
“Huh? Oh. N-no, not yet.” Aier answered instinctively.
The two pieces of rye bread she’d eaten before leaving home were almost gone by the time she got here.
Daila stood up, walked to the door, and tugged a nondescript bell rope by the wall.
“Good, I’m hungry too. Miss is in a good mood, so I’ll treat you to a meal. Everything’s made fresh in the kitchen. Anything you want to eat? You’ll be drinking tonight—it’s not good to do that on an empty stomach.”
Aier: “I-I’m fine with anything, I’m not picky.”
“Heh.” Daila glanced at Aier, who was sneaking looks at her with hopeful eyes.
So cute, just like a little furry animal hoping to be fed.
If she had the chance, she really would like to get to know such a cutie a bit better.
Of course, that was just wishful thinking. Someone like Daila, who was in charge of running the place, would only get into trouble if she got involved with one of the girls.
Before long, someone knocked at the door.
She opened it, gave a few instructions to the Service Staff outside, then sat back down.
Bored while waiting, Daila pulled a not-so-fancy Novel from the desk drawer and flipped through it at random. The author’s name, “Xiqi,” was clearly printed on the cover.
Aier immediately felt uncomfortable all over.
On the other side, Daila was engrossed in reading, her legs in black stockings swinging on the desk.
The quiet Office was filled with silence, broken only by the sound of Daila turning pages.
Aier was never a talkative person, especially bad at starting conversations.
If Daila didn’t speak, she felt gagged, her mind blank, unable to find a single word to break the awkward silence—a true conversation killer.
Aier didn’t notice at all that Daila was only pretending to read.
Behind the desk, those eyes that seemed focused on the text would glance up every few seconds, falling on Aier’s tense profile.
It was the kind of thing only someone interested in another person would do.
Just then, the saving knock at the door sounded again.
“I’ll get it.” Aier, as if granted amnesty, immediately got up and hurried to open the door.
Daila watched her fleeing figure, wrinkled her nose in annoyance, and muttered under her breath, “Sitting here for half an hour without saying a word to me—how can she be such a block of wood?”