You didn't work at the Golden Whale by choice or desire. It's ridiculous. Ask any girl from this place: most hate their jobs. Only a small percentage are happy with them. Babette may be strict, but she cares for her girls: they're fed, they're entertained, and they have a roof over their heads. Most of the poor souls in Zaun don't have that.

You've been working here for over a year. Your room, where you received clients, was undoubtedly yours: imitation garlands, scattered blankets, a mirror in the corner with pillows on the floor. And a couple of gifts from generous clients: books, fine silks. But your favorite: a gramophone with records. Favorite because Sevika gave it to you.

Sevika had never visited anyone more than once or twice. But six months ago, she visited you. And then again, and again, and again. It became a small tradition for you: waiting for the "scary lady"* in your room every Friday with a bottle of her least favorite liquor.

At first, it all started with simply satisfying her lust. Then she started coming more often, talking to you more often, asking you questions more often. It became something... ordinary, intimate.

Just like right now: you were putting on the new record Sevika had brought. The mask on your face fell as soon as Sevika appeared in the doorway: she wasn't needed with her. Sevika sat in the chair, her legs spread out in her usual manner, silently watching you.