"This will be your room from now on."
Harper glanced around the modest space, eyes darting from the clean white sheets to the wooden wardrobe in the corner. It was small but private—a luxury compared to where she used to sleep.
"A personal room? Does every domestic staff have a personal room?"
The girl beside her, bubbly and sharp-eyed, gave a short laugh.
"No they don't! Madam said you can't stay where the boys at so you should have a separate room."
Harper let out a breath, shoulders sagging in quiet relief.
"Thank God she's considerate at least."
"Yes she is! Come with me!" the girl beamed, already turning on her heel.
"Okay!" Harper followed quickly behind her.
They stepped into a corridor that opened into a large, velvet-draped lounge. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and expensive perfume. Chandeliers hung like floating stars, and the marble floors gleamed under soft golden light.
Harper's jaw dropped. "Wow! Whoever designed this place is fucking good!"
"Yes he is! This is where you will be working from now on."
Harper blinked, still trying to take in the beauty of the place. Her fingers grazed the smooth banister as they walked.
"Just this place?"
"The casino is upstairs."
Harper's brows shot up. "There is a casino here?"
"There is everything in here! The stairs that leads to the casino is over there!" She pointed to a velvet-roped staircase winding upward like something out of a movie. "But I'm not sure you can be serving the casino yet since you are new. You will just serve the girls only."
Harper raised a brow. "The girls? The courtesans?"
"Yes."
She paused, curiosity sparking in her voice. "Tell me about them!"
"Definitely! This lounge is where you see most courtesans. Only the noble courtesans are allowed in the casino."
Harper tilted her head, intrigued. "There are normal courtesans and noble courtesans?"
"Sure! The noble courtesans live on the next floor, so it's possible for you not to meet them at all. They have another entrance that takes them into the casino directly. But most clients pass through here. Noble courtesans are those with a companion—and not just any companion, a high-level companion. You can have a companion as a courtesan, but if he is not high-level, then you are still a normal courtesan."
"A companion? What does that mean?" Harper leaned in, genuinely puzzled.
"It means a permanent clientele! They're a mistress and don't serve anybody else unless it's required for them to help their companion. That is the only time they're allowed to sleep with others, but as a noble courtesan, you are obligated to your companion only."
Harper blinked. "The companion pays them money for staying with them only?"
"Yes. They pay yearly fees. If you don't pay the fees yearly, then your time with the courtesan is over."
"How much?" Harper asked, mouth already half open.
The girl looked back over her shoulder with a smirk.
"$50 million for a noble courtesan."
Harper stopped walking. "The fuck!! For a woman? Just for one woman? To have one woman for one year costs $50 million and they have to pay yearly?"
"Of course! There are many benefits attached to having a courtesan. They're called a companion for a reason."
Harper laughed in disbelief. "Who the fuck pays $50 million just to sleep with a woman?"
"Rich men! Drug barons! Politicians! They do! It's nothing to them."
"That's crazy!" Harper shook her head, still trying to grasp the absurdity.
"Some courtesans are not worth the money, actually, but one-time date with a courtesan costs $500k, and it's a minimum time. If you like the courtesan, then you can subscribe for her. A courtesan that gets subscribed for automatically becomes a noble and she will move to the next floor and also get an escort."
Harper blinked. "An escort?"
"Yeah, a bodyguard and a female servant to tend to her needs."
"The money goes into the company?"
"A courtesan gets 30%."
Harper frowned. "Isn't that too small?"
"Of course it is not! A courtesan doesn't even need money for anything. The house uses the money to provide their every need—from clothes to shoes to food to hair. They even live in a free house and get a shopping coupon. It means the companion just paid for their living expenses for the whole year."
"Wow, that's great! The company loses then?"
"They don't lose either! Most of the courtesans generate money for the company through other means, and most companions donate money to the house several times. And most times the companions take care of their needs so they don't have to do nothing."
"So most of the courtesans are millionaires?"
"Not most of them! They all are!"
Harper folded her arms, still suspicious. "They're probably spending the money on drugs or something."
"They're not allowed to do drugs. They have to remain clean because their companions take them everywhere."
"They don't have wives or something?"
"The courtesan has more connections than their wives. So they need them to gain access to some places and events. The courtesan fits anywhere, and having them beside you already proves you're worthy as a wealthy man. Some people come to take the courtesan here just to curry favor with other wealthy men."
Harper stared blankly. "So having a courtesan by your side means you can go anywhere?"
"Yes. In the elite world, they make you fit in."
Harper gave a dry laugh. "Never knew something like this existed somewhere."
"You are poor."
Harper burst into laughter. "Damnit!"
"Most of the courtesans are actually from a rich family. They just decided to do this."
"For real?"
"Sure! Let me even say all of them. Only few came from the lower class, but it's rare."
"So they get more money here and connections?"
"Yeah, they do."
Harper nodded slowly. "Their life sounds interesting, but I'm sure it's not that interesting. It's not possible to have things easily accessible."
"It can be hard sometimes. Not all the clients are cool-headed. Inasmuch as the courtesan has so much right, the company has to respect their clients sometimes too—especially the very powerful clients. So all the courtesans struggle to climb the social ladder. They cling to the most powerful people they can see so they can be untouchable. No one likes being forced to do things."
"Is it possible for a courtesan to reject a client?"
"No! Once a client chooses you, then you have to tend to him. Only one rule applies to the client—they're not allowed to take a courtesan that is undergoing training."
"What does that mean?"
"The house only takes in a few courtesans every year and they're mostly 20 years. They undergo training for like a year before starting the job, and until a courtesan surpasses 20 years, a client can't sleep with her."
"Do they come in intact?"
"It is not necessary to come in intact. Just be clean and disease-free."
"Oh, that makes sense then."
The girl slowed her steps and turned to Harper with a more serious tone.
"As you live here, you will get to know other things about the house. But one thing, Harper—"
Harper met her gaze. "What's that?"
"Do not offend a courtesan. They hold more power in here."
Harper arched a brow. "Really? They can have me thrown out?"
"Definitely! You have to do their bidding at all times. And there is definitely one courtesan that you have to avoid."
Harper tensed. "Which of them?"
"The richest courtesan here is quite crazy. Her name is Angel."
"She is the richest courtesan?"
"Yes, she is! Her companion paid the company four years fee to have her, and she gets $10 million monthly from her companion. So her shoulder pad is so high."
Harper widened her eyes. "Her companion must be crazy!"
"He is not crazy—he just has too much money to give out. She gets more money even than the rest who ever served the president."
Harper gasped. "The president comes here too?"
"Everybody comes here, sweetie. This is where some people's lives are made and decided or destroyed. But surely, the president doesn't have a permanent courtesan—he picks whoever he likes and pays the company well enough."
Harper stared into the distance, mind spinning. "A lot of shit be going on here."
"Wait till you started working."
Harper stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the apron tied neatly around her waist. The white shirt clung softly to her frame, the sleeves rolled just above her elbows. Her black trousers were slim-fitted, clean, and surprisingly comfortable. She shifted awkwardly, tugging at the hem of her shirt before glancing down at the all-black sneakers they gave her.
So this is it… a waiter, not a cleaner. That alone felt like a victory.
She had complained—loudly, even—about not wanting to clean toilets or scrub tiles all day, so they'd shifted her role. Now, she was to serve drinks to the courtesans after their afternoon classes.
Yes. Of course the courtesans attend classes.
That was the first thing she'd learned when she received her schedule. She'd expected… something else entirely. But no, these weren't your average streetwalkers.
They're taught everything possible or whatever they have interest in—from fashion to music to politics and beauty.
It made her stop and think. Courtesans were being trained like diplomats or socialites. Like queens preparing for court.
Because **even though they're courtesans, one thing is certain—**they are all high-valued women.
And Harper had seen it with her own eyes.
The first time she watched the courtesans float into the lounge, it was like a slap to everything she thought she knew. Her jaw had nearly hit the floor.
She had expected cheap clothes, synthetic wigs, exaggerated makeup, and skin-baring outfits. Instead, what walked past her looked like they'd stepped out of Vogue and Vanity Fair.
Silks. Velvets. Satins. Lush fabrics that shimmered when they moved. Some wore long, flowing gowns with daring thigh-high slits, the kind that trailed behind them like a whispered promise. Others donned sleek suits with sharp heels and designer bags, and their jewelry caught the light with every calculated gesture.
They didn't just look good. They looked powerful.
Even their scents lingered—floral, musky, warm and intoxicating. Expensive perfumes Harper couldn't name but instinctively knew were way out of her budget. They turned heads without trying. Walked like they ruled the world.
She watched one of them—tall, dark hair in a twisted updo—saunter across the lounge in an all-black suit. Her lipstick matched the red soles of her Louboutin heels. Every man she passed sat up straighter.
A courtesan can wear an all-black suit with black Louboutin heels to come to seduce a man at the lounge…
Harper couldn't help but stare.
They make such a presence. It's good to see sometimes.
She folded her arms, watching a group of them pass by with effortless grace. Even the noble courtesans, the ones with companions, dressed with such understated elegance it made Harper wonder if they belonged on magazine covers or political campaign posters.
It's no surprise they can fit in anywhere. Some of them look like they wanna compete for the First Lady position in the state.
Despite dressing decently, they exuded seduction. It was in their eyes, their posture, the way they sipped their wine and laughed lowly in corners. It was artful, calculated, never crass.
Harper let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
She looked down at her own black-and-white uniform again—plain, neat, invisible.
But still, a step away from cleaning toilets. A step closer to understanding the strange, powerful world she'd been thrown into.