CHAPTER 11: CHAPTER 11 - “WHAT’S GOING ON, LADIES?”

For the first time in years, the brothel street actually sounded alive.

Not with fake laughter. Not with the kind the girls practiced for survival—high-pitched, hollow, and calculated to keep men happy.

This was different. Real. Free. It spilled into the air like spring water, making the crooked street feel almost... normal. Like it wasn’t a place where women were treated like toys. Like it could, just for a breath, be a place where they lived instead of survived.

And the reason for all of it? One man.

Kael sat outside at a weathered bar table, goblet in hand, smirk tugging at his lips.

Around him, a dozen demi-human girls lingered—cat tails swishing, fox ears flicking, horns catching the lantern light.

Even those not serving him drifted close enough to listen, leaning over railings or pretending to wipe counters, though their eyes were on him alone.

Because Kael was talking.

More accurately—he was spinning stories. Tales so ridiculous and dramatic they couldn’t help but laugh.

"So there I was," Kael said, sloshing his wine for emphasis, "walking through the forest when I spot this monkey—humping a tree."

Gasps broke into snorts. One girl slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"I asked him, ’Brother, why the tree? There’s a whole jungle out there. Surely someone else would do better.’"

He paused, letting the silence stretch just enough for curiosity to bite. The girls leaned in unconsciously.

"The monkey looks at me, tears in his eyes, and says, ’Handsome men like you can find someone. I got trees.’"

The laughter hit like a wave.

A dog-eared girl doubled over, wheezing. A fox-eared one grinned wide, pointing at him. "You’re such a narcissist!"

Kael shrugged lazily, sipping his wine. "Not narcissism. Facts."

More laughter. Softer this time, but warmer. Real. Shoulders that were usually tense began to ease. Faces normally painted with practiced smiles now lit up with genuine ones.

For the first time, someone treated them like people.

Kael kept going, tossing out absurd tales about deer challenging him to staring contests and frogs declaring him a forest god.

The girls hung on every word, even while they moved through the motions of serving other patrons. Their attention wasn’t on the men they were meant to entertain—it was on Kael.

And that didn’t sit well with the paying customers.

Some scowled into their cups. Others muttered under their breath. But one young noble couldn’t stand it.

His chair scraped back hard enough to jolt the room. He marched toward Kael, face red, boots heavy on the wood.

Then—BANG! He kicked Kael’s table hard, rattling the drinks and making the girls flinch back.

Kael raised an eyebrow, still leaning casually in his seat. His only comment was, "Now that was rude."

He didn’t move. Didn’t rise to the bait. Just sipped.

"You’re ignoring me?!" The noble snapped.

Kael, on the other hand, turned toward one of the girls, as if the man wasn’t even there. "And then I said to the squirrel—"

"BASTARD!" The noble grabbed a bottle from a nearby table and stormed forward, aiming to smash it against Kael’s head.

He didn’t make it.

Kael twirled a finger, and the noble froze mid-swing. His arm locked stiff.

Kael’s eyes slid to him, calm, bored. "You’re lucky I don’t like scaring the girls. I gave you a chance to walk away."

He stood, stretching like a cat, his voice dropping lower. "You thought I was scared? No. I just didn’t want to get your blood on my shoes."

Then, with a flick of his hand, the noble’s wrist jerked violently. The bottle shattered against his own face with a wet crunch, spraying blood. The man crumpled, groaning.

The girls gasped, covering their mouths.

Kael flicked his fingers again, and the noble’s limp body slid across the floor like trash, hitting the far wall with a thud.

A lazy wave brought the table back into place. Kael dropped back into his chair, boots up, goblet in hand.

"Apologies, ladies. Just a rodent problem."

Nervous laughter broke, then stronger, freer. Relief mixed with disbelief. Kael smirked, tipping his goblet.

"You know, men like that can’t even make their dogs smile. That’s why they’re angry. And bald. Emotionally bald."

That earned a round of full, genuine laughter—even from girls further down the street who knew who Kael was, or more importantly, what he’d done.

But before the warmth could settle—

Crash! Boom!

A scream cut through the air, high and panicked.

The laughter died instantly. Girls stiffened, trading worried looks. Kael’s eyes sharpened. He caught whispers.

"It’s him again..."

"... Yeah. It has to be."

Sure that the girls knew about whatever was going on, Kael tilted his head, scanning their faces. "What’s going on, ladies?"

———

Inside one of the brothel’s reception rooms, chaos had already begun.

Shards of glass crunched under boots. Wine bled across the floor in dark pools. Bottles lay shattered where they’d been thrown.

At the center stood a nobleman. Tall. Lean. Too well-dressed for this filthy place, but reeking of drink and madness. His eyes were bloodshot, his sneer crooked.

Behind the counter, a woman braced herself, her cheek marked by a fresh red handprint. She stood firm, trying to shield the girl behind her.

That girl—young, pale, with black hair spilling to her shoulders—didn’t move. Her red eyes were blank, her face hollow.

"She’s not of age," the older woman said, voice shaking. "You can’t have her."

The noble slammed his hand down, blood dripping from cuts in his skin. "I’ve heard that for a year. Always ’one more year.’ Well, I’ve waited. I’m done waiting."

His grin slid toward the girl, oily and vile. "Be smart. Come with me. One night, and I’ll make sure none of these pigs ever touch you."

The girl lowered her gaze, whispering. "If I don’t... he’ll hurt someone."

"No!" The woman spun on her, grabbing her shoulders. "Don’t you dare! He tortures girls. He kills them when he’s bored—"

"I know," the girl said, her voice flat. Her eyes were empty, but there was a faint edge of steel there. "But if I don’t, he’ll hurt everyone. Again."

She was a vampire, though weaker than most. A defect. She had no family, no love. Gratitude was the only thing she’d ever felt toward the woman who tried to protect her. That was enough.

If she went with him, maybe she could end it. Maybe she could kill him. Or maybe she’d die trying. Either way, she wouldn’t keep crying night after night like her sisters did.

Slowly, she stepped around the counter.

The noble’s eyes lit up with sick delight. He reached for her, already unbuttoning his coat.

Then—

"What’s going on here?"

The voice was calm. Cold.

Kael stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Candlelight caught in his hair, his golden eyes narrowing as they took in the scene. He didn’t raise his voice because he didn’t need to.

The air dropped a degree.

Everyone in the room felt it.