Chapter Text
Namjoon had always hated establishments like brothels and prostitution clubs. Neither was it the first time he had to run an errand for his father nor the first time he visited such an establishment. But something always felt wrong behind those doors – the soft couches, velvet cloths, transparent curtains, a shrill voice with a non-sense falsetto, the strong stench of alcohol mixed with flowers and the heavy air of humidity.
His first brothel visit happened at the age of sixteen. His rowdy bunch of cousins, who were a couple of years older than him, had talked about ‘initiation’ as the best thing that ever happened to a man. Namjoon was excited and intrigued until he realized what it meant. Needless to say, he created a ruckus, the Madame of that establishment banned him (not that he would come back anyway) and got thirty-three whiplashes as punishment. In retrospect, Namjoon was punished more because he allowed himself to be influenced by others than for visiting the brothel. But he would be damned before admitting that.
Namjoon was not against the idea of engaging in sex or sexual activities (in fact, he has indulged in a few), but he found them unnecessary in his line of lifestyle. He accepted that men frequented these establishments for entertainment. Something about sex and sex workers was uncomfortable, not to forget, their morally inappropriate existence.
Namjoon received a general direction of what his errand was. If he wasn’t given one, he would figure it out. This time it was just a name on a small piece of paper – an all too familiar one. He wished he could avoid it, but his heart was moved at the prospect of meeting her again. He was curious, and a little heartbroken.
The recent pirate raids had left many of the top leaders of Crow Nest penniless. They had adopted various other odd jobs to fund themselves. Hence, Namjoon was the only person who could be trusted to bring in information. Spying for information was confidential and limited to two members of Crow Nest – Namjoon’s father and his uncle. After all, this information was gathered to collect secret information and strategize plans accordingly.
As he entered the brothel called Somteul, Namjoon was greeted with familiar scenes of pink lights, men and women draped among each other behind beaded curtains, hushed giggles, fruits and flowers mixed with the musty smell of humidity. A half-naked woman draped upside down against a pole on the dais was, however, unfamiliar. The male audience was cheering and whistling at her, throwing coins in patronage. Their faces were flushed, either from the performance or the alcohol.
Namjoon’s eyes quickly averted towards the reception table before his brain could comprehend how she defied gravity like that.
“Like what you see, eh?” The woman at the reception smirked at Namjoon.
“Just surprised,” If anything at all, Namjoon’s resolve to get away from the brothel increased ten-fold. “I wanted to meet Madame Haneul.”
The receptionist laughed obnoxiously at him.
“You could be a little polite, darling. Madame Haneul is busy right now; she wouldn’t be able to meet you. Besides, you make appointments here. If you don’t, you don’t get your pick.” The receptionist bared her teeth, grinning at him almost condescendingly.
“I’m not here to get laid.” Namjoon gritted. “There’s an important message I need to deliver.”
“Tell me, I’ll pass it on.”.
“If it was something I could tell anybody then I wouldn’t have specifically asked for her. lady, this is important.”
“Look at you, calling me lady!” The receptionist reached out to tickle Namjoon’s chin but he swatted her hand away.
Namjoon was about to threaten her, when a tall silhouette shadowed the reception desk, effectively stopping their banter. The woman eyed Namjoon from underneath her lashes before directing orders to the receptionist.
“Enough Nari, leave the desk.” The woman’s maroon gown swished around her as she took her place behind the desk. The receptionist withdrew as she was ordered, leaving Namjoon and the woman alone.
“I see an island.” The woman blinked up once while stating that.
“There are no ships.” Namjoon blinked at Madame Haneul once before passing her the piece of paper.
She read the name and nodded.
“You’ll have to wait for a bit. She’s busy with a client right now,” Madame Haneul informed.
Namjoon clicked his tongue in annoyance. Madame Haneul, however, was amused.
“There are very few men who don’t like to wait in my establishment,” she said, as she reposed against the counter. “Why don’t you avail some of the services while you’re here?”
“You know how I feel about this, Madame Haneul,” Namjoon said politely. “I don’t like how every young woman is watching me.”
As if on cue, the girls seated behind transparent curtains giggled behind their fans, even though they were out of hearing range.
“Girls, stop teasing this poor lad...” Madame Haneul tried to admonish; the keyword being ‘tried’. “Even so, you can enjoy our new addition to the establishment. Mary has some pretty good moves on the pole.”
“I’m good without anything from here, thank you,” Namjoon said as he eyed a very questionable green liquid handed to him by one of the attendants. “What do you gain from this?”
“Money,” was Madame Haneul’s instant reply as she smiled. “Security, food, a roof and most importantly, information.”
“It’s crowded tonight, isn’t it?” Namjoon had tried to drink the green concoction out of curiosity but dumped it in a nearby flower pot when something foul hit his nose.
“It’s normal, actually. Mary draws in a lot of patrons but I also think it has something to do with this proxy war.” Madame Haneul ended with scorn. “Pretty soon these poor men will be going off to war that isn’t even ours, while those lords and kings will sit here with huge asses watching them die like pawns. I’m planning to grant them one night free to indulge in all frivolities before they run the risk of never returning.”
“How noble,” Namjoon had meant that sarcastically, yet not rude. He must have been able to convey as such when Madame Haneul chuckled.
“I know it doesn’t sound very logical because it’s not,” she admitted. “But these people going to war are our people. They already lost their families and dignity under this godforsaken king, like us; we have nothing more to lose. I can grant them at least one night for free.”
Namjoon was described as a distracted person more often than most of his peers – he called himself inquisitive (that sounded purposive). His father explained traits such as being mindful were necessary to become the next revolutionary leader of Crow Nest and the future king of Tvīpte . Being curious only led to questions, but no answers.
Namjoon liked having knowledge of everything, a gruelling ambition to understand how everything worked. He had once tried to test the depth of the sea waters they were fishing at. The results were satisfying and worth receiving two weeks of laundry duty. It is natural to contemplate and test premises to be confident about anything, but his father would just amuse himself with those theories.
It was a question: why the women and the brothel had to be cleaned and decorated with crafts and smells to lure men if the only purpose was to get in the bed? They could do that just by showing some ankles. Why go through so much aesthetics? Being so invested in the details of the brothel house and the people but not getting any answers was fruitless!
“I’ll be heading out for a while,” Namjoon knew what would be taking Miss Yeongju so long, it would be just rude to imply that openly (though the establishment wasn’t subtle about it). He would rather enjoy the cold night than listen to awful falsettos.
A deep breath into the cold air allowed Namjoon to scan the area until he found a nearby rock to sit on. The brothel was emitting a soft pink light against the rather dingy alley that housed more shady places like – a pawn shop, more drinking pubs, more prostitutes’ dens, a witch’s shack and an abandoned warehouse where homeless people stayed at night. Despite its reputation, all five blocks of promiscuous establishments were filled with drunk patrons and lewd catcalls. These buildings were pushed to the periphery of Muanada , towards the cliff. Among these streets, Somteul was acclaimed for occupying the largest building with a riveting catalogue of unique and versatile courtesans.
Establishments like Somteul were something to be disgusted about, a filth to the beauty of Muanada , a place where Olgan s wouldn’t dare tread on. The plain irony was how they were the major share of customers who visited these nooks for various interests. Namjoon never corrected them, only stole their money pouches and watched them cry in public. While his stance on brothels inclined towards the negative, he hated Olgan’s hypocrisy more.
Childish of him to do so; but he justified the theft by reminding him how Olgans stole from Tvīptiens like him and his father. These events never made major headlines, but the injustice irked him.
His rumination was disrupted by the commotion behind him. Grave gasps of women and several thuds of footsteps were heard. He was almost ready to bring out his dagger when he saw a half-dressed man chased by a flying goblet, he narrowly avoided it.
“You dare not step in here again if you value that dick of yours!” A voice rasped adorned in golden folds, the bangles rattled and his anklets jingled; a flurry of garments and movement.
Namjoon saw several other brothel women, including Madame Haneul herself, struggling to uphold her skirt.
“What happened Moon?” Nari asked, torn and confused.
That look’s something close to a monstrosity… Namjoon mentally remarked about Nari. Her features looked a little haggard than minutes before.
“That man thought I was a woman! Didn’t you run him through our catalogue?” The voice belonged to a man indeed, and he was enraged.
Namjoon was surprised to encounter a male courtesan at Somteul They were considered the bane of courtesans.
“I did!” Nari said, equally frustrated. “I thought I made it clear to him who you were. I told him, ‘Moon has a dick, Mister.’ And he nodded happily. Would you believe that?” Nari threw her hands to imitate that scene. It was hilarious to watch the scene of brothel workers frustrated at a man. Namjoon could imagine the aftermath he must have created on his first brothel visit.
“People, there’s no point in discussing now,” Madame Haneul’s voice was relaxed in its own right, yet assertive.
“But that was a potential fat customer, I cannot just let him go away…” Moon wasn’t particularly complaining about the customer, just the money.
“It’s okay Moon, we have a lot of customers tonight, you can easily compensate,” Madame Haneul smiled encouragingly. For a moment, one could forget she was a brothel Mistress because she sounded that soothing.
“Yeah! You can,” Nari joined in. “You can start with that sod over there,” she said as she pointed at Namjoon, who was minding his business sitting on a rock at the nearby curb (totally not interested).
“Me?!” Namjoon said, affronted. “Are you kidding?” He wanted to protest, but Moon had already seen him. He could see his jewels twinkle against the pink light, as good as the light in his eyes.
“Either way, can I stay out for a breather?” Moon asked Madame Haneul, who graciously allowed, but warned to be back in time.
Everybody left, except Moon. Naturally, Namjoon was not concerned about anyone else other than Moon. He wanted to avoid the awkward atmosphere surrounding another male (especially the one who had female interests).
“May I sit here?” Moon asked, his voice was light, it carried a sense of quietness. Namjoon allowed, albeit gingerly.
Namjoon just wanted to make sure the rock was big enough for both of them. He scooted away, a lot more than what was needed. However, when Moon sat down, his robes spread around the space between them. No amount of scooting would have granted enough time to mentally prepare for a ‘definitely awkward’ moment. His blood bubbled a little. From the previous scene he could tell that Moon wasn’t normal , he had a preference .
“If it’s making you uncomfortable, you can leave,” Moon said cautiously.
Namjoon’s head took some time to process Moon’s words.
“‘Scuse me?” Namjoon’s brows furrowed. “I can leave?”
“It’s just that, when I need some quiet time, this is the place I usually go to. There are other places of course, but this one was the nearest.” Moon explained, though he really sounded strained as if asking for permission. “So,” Moon clicked his tongue, “please leave.”
Woah Namjoon’s blood wasn’t bubbling anymore, it was boiling !
“Why should I leave?”
“Because this is my rock ever since I came here.” Moon was facing him now. Up close, Namjoon could make out a face that had good features. Even when the shadows were playing on his cheeks, they highlighted his smooth skin. His eyes were twinkling, his nose was straight and he had plump lips. He could imagine why people would find him attractive.
“No, that’s not a reason enough that you own a rock. Rocks don’t have names written on them.” Namjoon argued.
“This one does actually.” Moon swayed away his robes and lowered down to the base of the rock, pointing at it. “See, there’s my name, Moon.”
Despite his better judgement, Namjoon bent down too and groped around in the dim surroundings to feel the letters etched on the rock. It was quite unbelievable. He laughed at the ridicule of it all, how silly it seemed; indeed, there was ‘Moon’ etched in Olgan ’s language.
“Now get off,” Moon demanded again.
“Wait,” Namjoon buzzed. “I’m not taking orders from a woman, let alone a faggot.”
Moon’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“I am a faggot, mister, but I can break your bones just as good as any man, or woman.”
“Your dainty hands could never. Wanna throw hands?”
“I’d love to, but I’m rather reasonable and want this rock to rest on, so how about arm-wrestling? Whoever wins gets to sit on this rock forever .” Moon challenged calmly.
“See, you don’t wanna fight nincompoop.” Namjoon snorted.
“Nincompoop?” Moon huffed. “How old are you, five? I can throw hands but I won’t because unlike your immature bamboozled derrière I have a job that relies on my appearance.”
Namjoon didn’t like where this was heading; he agreed to arm-wrestle. Some courtesans spectated from the balconies, giggly behind their fans and mildly interested in the bet. Since the rock was already flat at the top, they decided to use it like a table. As they were getting into positions, Namjoon glanced at Moon’s bare shoulders, his biceps didn’t appear bulky but retained a smooth muscle texture. He was sure of his win.
It started off pretty well, with Namjoon putting all his strength into holding off Moon and simultaneously pushing him. But as it progressed, Moon’s wrists started flicking – Namjoon predicted he might cheat. The spectators were cheering them on, ambiguous as to whose side they wanted to win. Moon was struggling, it was evident how red his neck had become – it was visible even in the dusky surroundings. Moon was lean by physique but Namjoon realised he packed a lot of strength. They were at a stalemate for a few seconds before Namjoon’s push worked, and his shoulders relaxed. Moon’s wrist flicked again and, in a flash, Namjoon’s hand was pushed onto the stone.
Namjoon had not registered what had happened until he heard the cheers of women and a victory clap Moon did for himself. Moon sat down on the rock victoriously smiling, “Since I’m a nice person, I shall allow you to sit here today.”
“I refuse to sit next to a sodomite,” Namjoon muttered; his ego hurt a little.
“Quite the vocabulary you have.” Moon mocked. “Suit yourself, the offer is valid until I say otherwise. Seriously though, didn’t Nari run you through our brothel catalogue?”
Namjoon was annoyed and confused. “Why…?”
“Oh dear heavens,” Moon sighed. “It’s where my information is given, my likes, my dislikes, places that have my name etched on. Don’t you guys read or are you illiterate?”
Namjoon scoffed. “First of all, I’m not illiterate. Second, I’m not here to get laid; which brings me to the third point, hence I didn’t need a catalogue.”
Moon scowled a little. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to...” But what excuse should he use? It’s not the first time he's had to lie for trivial matters such as this. But it was the first time visiting a brothel house voluntarily. “Accompany my friends.”
“So, what are you doing outside? Shouldn’t you be joining them in the fun?”
“No, brothel houses are like… I don’t really like them.”
“If it’s the naked people that make you uncomfortable, we have a section that serves booze and offers dancing and singing?”
How did I get from arguing over a rock to this?
Namjoon wanted this conversation to end already. It was one thing to not stick out like a sore thumb, but interacting with someone who clearly had no aligning interests (in the opposite sex) resembled a waste. He cursed the night and lack of providence so far. He would try to close this as soon as possible.
“It’s not that…” he tried.
“Look, it’s either that or you’re into a very committed relationship.” Moon wasn’t done though, his eyes twinkled with mischief. “…Or, perhaps, you’re still inexperienced.”
Namjoon should get angry, he should have straight up strangulated this man’s delicate throat and shoved him against the rock for bringing up unnecessary assumptions or having this conversation at all, but he just couldn’t do anything except squirm.
“No, I’m not! Do I look inexperienced?” It was a rhetorical question, by all means.
“Yes, otherwise, you wouldn’t sit outside Somteul .” Moon folded his legs like a regal beauty on his throne. “This is one of the best places to be at night. Although you might not be interested in getting laid, there are tons of other activities you can find pleasure in.” Moon smiled, the kind a devil would lure its victims.
“Getting laid is the ultimate goal,” Moon continued, “but there are so many things you can do to explore and chase that feeling of lust. Most men think with their dick and want to shove it in a hole, but only a very few understand the subtle beauty of experiencing pleasure in other ways. It takes more than showing ankles to pleasure anyone. They are so up their asses that they don’t even realize it themselves.”
Moon had a sharp silver tongue. Namjoon had no qualms about noting how the rock had dipped towards him. Moon had tried what shopkeepers and heartbreakers had in common – persuasion. He had allowed the passionate speech to build a metaphorical bridge between their conversations. If Namjoon wanted to play along, he would add to that bridge by taking advantage of the cool atmosphere and warm lights from the brothel. He could grant that courtesy after Moon had answered one of his pressing questions.
“Is that why the brothel is decorated and perfumed?” Namjoon asked, whispering mostly, almost as if concluding a revolting idea. He was.
“You noticed!” Moon exclaimed. “I wish there were more people like you who noticed our efforts to make them comfortable and welcomed.”
Namjoon was almost amused. “Even the awful falsettos are part of your attraction?”
Moon left a nervous laughter. “Even those; it’s just part of what courtesans do. We are taught to master all arts.”
Namjoon felt some tension lose around his shoulders after the small talk. That was hardly small talk, really.
“Now,” Moon clapped. “don’t you feel like indulging in some frivolities?”
“No,” Namjoon replied politely. “As much fun as it all sounds, I need to stay sober for my friends.”
“Bummer,” Moon muttered as if to pity his situation. He got up, tightening his golden robes around himself. “I should head inside; I think my break is over and it’s getting cold.” His jewellery jingled as he dusted off and straightened his clothes. “If the comfort of warmth and food doesn’t entice you then you can have the rock to yourself for tonight.”
Namjoon gave a mock salute in acknowledgement before Moon walked off. His robes swished around his body and jewellery clinked as he walked away. Namjoon noticed how the length of his hair was short, emphasising his long tassels. Even his robes couldn’t seem to hide his wide shoulders or the tall stature he poised along. His face had sharp curves which added to the charm of seduction. Namjoon couldn’t place whether he was being effeminate or just confident at picking controversy. Most men wouldn’t even choose those bold colours to wear, let alone accessorise them.
When Namjoon visited the reception again, the atmosphere had mellowed. Nobody was singing or dancing on the pole, the humidity had somehow increased (it was a welcome respite against the cold), yet the smell of alcohol and sex permeated through his primary senses. He wasn’t particularly comfortable with them but found solace in the subtle smell of jasmine.
“Who are you looking for this time?”
Yeah, if there was something that didn’t change, it was Nari’s annoying tone. Some of her stray hairs were flying away from the headdress. Her lemon-green corset seemed to have some drink spilt over it.
“Well, you look like you had a night. How come you’re not laid?” Namjoon teased.
“You see, someone needs to keep the records when Madame is busy,” Nari explained proudly. “I can ask you the same thing – how come you’re not getting any action? Aren’t you up Moon’s alley? Didn’t he flirt with you? I’ve seen the best of men falling on their knees for him.” She smirked as if she were Cupid.
“Whatever told you Missy that we flirted.” Namjoon glared. “Is Madame Haneul busy?”
“Yes, she is catering to a very important client.”
Before he could put forth any argument, the stairs creaked signalling someone’s descending steps. The gown came into view first, it was not as gallant or beautiful as the skirts brothel women wore to attract attention, and even the shoes were rugged.
The woman had no make-up on as was evident from her pale cheeks and washed off kohl from her eyes. She still looked fresh, her eyes just awoken and washed. A sheen of rose flush complemented her skin tone.
“Miss Yeongju,” Nari curtsied just as deep as Namjoon bowed.
“I can take it from here, Nari.” Madame Yeongju spoke politely. She wasn’t as assertive as Madame Haneul but spoke elegantly as if reading a letter. “Would you mind if we take this to my room, Namjoon?”
Namjoon just shook his head because he felt perplexed, greeting Madame Yeongju after five years.
“I didn’t guess you were the kind who saved the best thing for the last!” Nari whispered excitedly in Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon suppressed the urge to smother her but jabbed at her ribs. He assumed she was fine after that blow by her snickering.
Passing down the corridors, muffled sounds of groans and awful moans welcomed them. All the doors were closed for good measure, but even with those one could bet there were more than two occupants in one of the rooms. Low thuds and creaks from every nook sickened Namjoon to his stomach. The smell of sex was heavy on these upper floors. Soft pink lights diluted further to almost a golden one. Almost at the end of that corridor, Madame Yeongju opened a door and ushered them inside.
“I see an island.” She blinked up once.
“There are no ships.” Namjoon blinked at her twice. A nicely folded letter was retrieved from her drawer before it was tightly pressed into his palm. “Whatever we need is on that letter. Tell him, we can prepare for the next step, we have only two months.”
Namjoon hid the letter in his cloak and bowed deeply eager to leave the room.
“Namjoon?” Madame Yeongju called. They looked at each other. “You have grown so tall; it was good to see you.” She smiled.
Namjoon’s heart skipped, and yet he didn’t know what to do or say. He hoped a weary smile would be enough and exited the brothel, ignoring all teasing remarks and suggestive cat-calls. The letter was as heavy as his heart.