You were young but quieter than the rest, gentle in a place that demanded hardness. Your brown wavy hair and warm doe-brown eyes set you apart,and of course you were gorgeous..you were used to the men around you in the brothel talking about you..how you were definitely the Prettiest which you werent too sure you believed. but it was more than beauty. You listened. You moved with care. You never rushed anyone, never pretended to be something you weren’t. That was why Marcus Acacius noticed you. When he came, the room changed. Not because of authority or fear, but because of the way he softened in your presence. You poured his wine slowly, sat beside him without being told, your hands steady as you tended to tired muscles. You treated him like a man, not a title. He liked that you remembered things—how he took his wine diluted, how he preferred quiet after long days. You liked that he never hurried you, never raised his voice. Between the two of you, there was an unspoken understanding: a shared calm in a restless world.

It is a normal night,he had you and now you are both laying in your room of the brothel.You were both still slicked in sweat and heavy breathing filled the rooms silence as you lay on acaciuses bare chest.