Volume 1: Chapter 3 – The Case of Princess Silveria

I returned to my room, but just as I was about to lean back in my expensive chair, another staff member burst through the door without knocking.

Most of the staff are usually quite reliable, but given that the events occurring lately are so massive, I suppose I have to give up on things like etiquette and manners. They handle the customers—the horny bastards—properly, so it feels petty to complain about how they act when they’re in a panic.

—Besides, it would be a problem if they quit.

But what is it this time? A relatively large commotion just settled down a moment ago.

“M-Manager, Princess Silveria has arrived and is demanding to see you…”

She’s here again, that dreaming princess. How many times do I have to tell this sugar-coated-brain woman that this isn’t the kind of place a sheltered girl like her should be visiting?

Honestly, what is the Royal Palace’s security even doing?

Don’t just let the First Princess of marriageable age wander into the red-light district, even if it’s just the beginning of the evening. Lately, she’s somehow become friends with our girls and is getting strangely well-versed in adult matters; is that really okay, Mercenary King?

Don’t come crying to me if her dreams get twisted and she gets hooked by some shady guy.

“Manager! Tonight, you will listen to my proposal. This time, I have obtained the approval of my father… the King. This is no longer my own personal whim or a mere daydream!”

Look, First Princess.

Given your position, you should have had etiquette and decorum beaten into you since childhood, right?

Or is it something else? Is there a rumor going around that if you knock on my office door, you’ll be cursed?

Even if it’s a workplace, don’t just barge into a man’s room without a greeting, especially when you’re a member of the royal family.

The red eyes characteristic of the Glen Royal Family and luxurious, flowing blonde hair. I have no idea what anyone could do to make hair curl like that. Is she the crystalized result of generations of Glen Kings—who lived the “heroes love beautiful women” lifestyle to the fullest—consistently taking stunning queens? The genes of those legendary beauties have clearly done their work; her beauty is on par with our Top Three.

Unlike our battle-hardened Top Three, the fact that she has this much allure while being “brand-new” is, honestly, impressive. In another year, princes from every nation will surely be lining up to propose, even while fearing the Mercenary King’s gaze.

Her massive breasts and ass are second only to Laura’s. Well, unlike Laura’s, I haven’t seen hers directly, but they are grand enough that even luxurious, frilly clothes can’t hide them.

Her facial features are gentle for a Glen Royal—a victory for the current Queen’s genes.

The King of Glen is called the Mercenary King; the current one is handsome in his own way, but has an incredibly rugged face that looks much more fitting for a mercenary leader. The younger sister princess takes after her father, looking like a sharp-featured beauty.

—Though she’s still a brat.

“Princess Silveria.”

“Y-Yes, Manager?”

When I spoke heavily, still sitting in my chair with my elbows on the desk and fingers interlaced in front of my mouth, Princess Silveria jumped.

—She really is a good girl.

Despite being royalty, she doesn’t act arrogant. She’s naive, but she’s a girl who can act for the sake of others.

To be blunt, having the First Princess stand while a mere brothel manager sits and acts important is an extreme act of lèse-majesté. Instead of getting angry, she just gets startled by a stern voice. It’s almost charming.

“I’ve told you many times, the reason your proposal is ‘naive’ isn’t because you lack the King’s permission or anything like that.”

I spoke as gently as possible. I wondered if I’d stepped on a landmine.

“Manager, haven’t I told you many times to speak to me normally in this place? I am indeed the Princess of this country, but when I come here, I come as an equal negotiator. There is no need for me to be treated with such formality.”

Ah, right. She was that kind of troublesome princess.

Tears welled up in those crimson eyes that could charm any man. I don’t think there’s much hope for a negotiation when you’re already on the verge of tears over something like this.

“Fine, fine, I get it, Princess. It’s not about the King’s permission or securing jobs for the girls.”

“Then why?! Certainly, income will decrease. But for women to, um, give their bodies… like that…”

The fact that she hesitates to even say it while coming here to negotiate the closure of a brothel makes her unqualified. Is it a saving grace or a tragedy that she’s entirely serious rather than just playing around?

“I don’t know about other shops, but our girls do this job because they decided to. I don’t chase those who leave, and I’m sorry to say I’m selective about those who come. Even if you’re royalty, you don’t have the right to stick your nose into that.”

The Mercenary King should know this perfectly well. The state can’t seriously adopt a policy to abolish brothels. For this country, the night district is a major industry.

“B-but, making people work to pay off debts, or even kidnapping women to make them work…”

Yes, those kinds of sickening stories certainly exist. And no matter how much effort is made, they never truly disappear.

“Listen? I’m sure those shops and those girls exist. But the state should take responsibility for cracking down on them and crushing them. Prohibiting unfair lending and rescuing victims—that is the job of the state. Feel free to go right ahead and do that.”

I don’t want to be lumped in with those scoundrels, but I’m not going to claim our shop is some “noble” establishment either. We make a living off the resolve of the girls and the desires of the horny bastards; in the end, we’re all birds of a feather. You could even say we’re worse because we hide behind the facade of following the rules.

I won’t deny that it would be better if this business disappeared entirely. I can’t.

No matter how much resolve they have, it’s undeniably a hard job.

But even if Papilio Somnium disappeared, this kind of business wouldn’t. If the country bans it by law, it will just go underground. And if that happens, things will undoubtedly become much worse than they are now. Unless people themselves change, you can’t fix anything by just tying them down with laws.

I already know that.

So, call it self-satisfaction or self-deception, I want to at least keep things as legitimate as possible within the range of my reach. I can’t—and won’t—say something as arrogant as “saving everyone” like the Princess does from her high horse.

“But… even though they are all such beautiful women… I simply cannot accept that they give their bodies to men they do not love just for money.”

I understand where you’re coming from, Princess. But people in the real world can’t survive on just ideals.

You can’t accept it? Fine.

Those who don’t have to do it should live virtuously, protected by their ideals. I have no intention of mocking that or laughing at it as childish. That, too, is a proud way to live.

But don’t misunderstand, Princess.

It’s true our girls sell their bodies, their time, and their skills for money. But the goal isn’t the money itself; they sell themselves for something they can’t compromise on, something that can be achieved with that money.

—They do it while laughing it off, or holding back tears… or clenching their teeth.

Lumping it all together as “for money” is unacceptable. Sure, there are some girls who do it casually for reasons even I can’t understand.

Even so, it’s not for others to comment on.

They aren’t doing it just to eat. If you really want them to stop, you have to present a way for them to fulfill their goals; otherwise, we can’t just say, “Oh, okay.”

“Besides, it’s pitiful. Listen, a woman should…”

—Ah, that’s the thing I can’t stand the most, Princess.

“Princess Silveria.”

At the sound of my voice, Princess Silveria winced and stopped talking.

Even I was a bit surprised by how low my voice came out. But I couldn’t let that last part slide.

“The girls working in my shop each have an uncompromising goal or reason, and they sell their skills, time, and bodies here. It’s fine to hate it. You’re free to despise it. You can even claim you’d rather die than do it if you want.”

That is a matter of personal freedom.

I have no intention of telling you not to hate them or not to despise them. They know exactly what kind of job this is, and they decided to do it because they have no other choice. You can’t even do it without that level of resolve.

“But I will not forgive you for pitying them.”

I don’t know what’s right or wrong. But that is the one thing I won’t forgive.

I don’t even want to speak with someone who thinks like that.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“There won’t be a second time, Princess.”

The Princess apologized again with tearful eyes. I know she didn’t mean any harm, but that’s a point I won’t yield on. I’m aware I’m being immature, so I won’t ask for forgiveness.

“…Is it truly presumptuous for someone as ignorant of the world as me to interfere…?”

Withered by the anger I’d accidentally let slip, she had completely slumped.

If she had the mental strength to say “How dare you!” it might be different, but she’s just a kind, sheltered princess through and through. Well, that’s also the good part about her.

“…It’s not like that. Honestly, I’m grateful that you bring the common sense of people living under the sun to things we’ve given up on as ‘normal’ or ‘unavoidable.’ I do think your side is basically the right one. In fact, I’ve heard quite a bit from other shops about girls being saved by your proposals.”

I scratched my head while looking at the teary-eyed, slumped princess. I’m not really suited for this kind of follow-up.

Isn’t there an old butler or someone with her?

“But listen. Your ideals are grand, but you should make them something people can actually empathize with, Princess. Even if you want to walk the path of reality with those ideals, trying to regulate the ‘erotic’ side of things is a lost cause. It probably won’t click for a ‘brand-new’ princess like you, but in a world far more advanced than this one in certain aspects, this never went away. As long as humans are humans, it’s just not possible yet.”

Science was omnipotent.

Even in a world where the gap between rich and poor and even racial discrimination were basically solved, the night districts didn’t disappear. It remained true even when augmented reality, virtual reality, and even androids that were almost indistinguishable from humans were developed.

Even with magic, as long as humans are humans, it won’t disappear in this world. I don’t know if everyone will reach enlightenment one day and evolve into a hive-mind lifeform, but until then…

In your position, Princess, if you focused on more realistic goals, you’d end up saving more people. Fortunately, you’re fundamentally a good person, and though you’re a bit stiff, you’re capable.

“I-I may be ‘brand-new’ now, but if the Manager teaches me, I’ll work hard to learn! I’m actually quite a fast learner, so I think… you’ll be… satisfied… soon…”

Her face turned so red I thought she might actually catch fire, and she started blurting out something strange.

Hey, what part of that did you bite onto, Princess?

And who taught this sheltered “brand-new” princess—who is the elite of the elite—that kind of slang?

You actually understood it, you ear-mature woman. And what are you blurting out after understanding it?

Do you realize your own position?

“Are you an idiot? Get your future husband decided by the King, or a guy you’ve fallen so hard for that you’d throw away your status, to teach you that. If I was the one who taught you, the Mercenary King would chop me into tiny pieces with his prized Crimson Sword!”

I really don’t understand the thoughts of royalty and people in the clouds. They’re on par with the horny bastards in “Sage Mode.”

“I… I don’t think my father… the King would be angry…”

“Like hell he wouldn’t, you sugar-coated brain! Besides, I’m busy with work here. I don’t have time for that!”

What is going on in this person’s head? Does she seriously think a mere brothel manager could take the First Princess’s virginity and walk away fine? I have no desire to be incinerated by the Mercenary King’s Crimson Sword while my last words are the pathetic: “She asked me to do it, believe meeee!”

“T-to be rejected because you ‘don’t have time’… that’s cruel. B-but, Manager, you are surrounded by charming, seductive—no, lewd—and beautiful women every single night; it’s filthy! Can’t you be satisfied with just me? If you made me your wife and became the Prince Consort, you could put your ideals for the night district into practice, you know?”

What is this person even saying?

“Filthy”? Is she talking about me instead of the girls? I’m working my ass off here, and her head is just filled with pink delusions.

Does she think I’m having some kind of decadent orgy with the shop’s girls every night?

“Listen. What kind of country would welcome a former brothel manager as Prince Consort? Save the sleep-talking for when you’re asleep, Princess. Besides, I could handle a bratty brat like Princess Karin, but if the calm and collected Prince Allen ever snapped, it’d be a disaster. Stop saying reckless things.”

Princess Silveria is a good girl, just a bit crazy, but her younger sister and brother are trouble. What makes them trouble is that they are both extreme sis-cons who absolutely loathe the “lowly pest” (me) for interacting with their adored sister.

In other words, if they heard this conversation, it would be a disaster…

“I heard everything! Who do you think you are, turning down my sister?! You’re just a manager of a filthy brothel! I, Princess Karin, second princess of the Kingdom of Glen, will use my pride and joy magic to incinerate this pest whose very breathing is harmful—kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

“Princess Karin? I believe I told you that the next time you spoke to our manager like that, I wouldn’t stop halfway. Are you prepared?”

“St-st-stop! I’m sorry… a-ah, no… st… stop!”

Wow, it turned into pure chaos in an instant. Every single one of them barges into my office without knocking.

Princess Silveria is hanging her head, her face bright red from the fact that her previous words were heard. As expected, the intruding Princess Karin has been caught by one of our Top Three and is currently being turned into a toy. She’s taken a liking to her being extremely sensitive, so it’s been like this for a while now.

The one who captured Princess Karin the moment she barged in and turned her into a “naughty toy” is another of our Top Three, Lady Lunamaria.

“Hey, you lewd girl, stop it. Princess Karin isn’t used to that kind of direct stimulation. It’ll become a crime of lèse-majesté for the whole shop, so stop it right now.”

“Oh? If I had another few dozen seconds, I could make her say ‘don’t stop.’ Wouldn’t that be better, Manager?”

Yeah, she definitely could.

Among our Top Three, she looks the youngest, yet her technique is supposedly on another level.

There are countless high-ranking horny bastards who have had not just their composure but their very souls drained by her. Her reservations are always booked solid.

“Just stop it, now.”

“Tch, boring.”

She released Princess Karin, who was already twitching and speechless after only a few dozen seconds. Hey, don’t leave royalty sprawling on the floor.

But why is she in my office at a time like this? There’s no way she doesn’t have a guest today unless it’s her day off.

End of 4