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The bustling servants in the mansion of the young master found their workload skyrocketing with the arrival of two hired girls. Sensing the need for top-notch entertainment, Jansen deliberately enlisted the expertise of a skilled bartender from Italy to concoct the most exquisite cocktails imaginable.
The spacious living room was transformed into a vibrant scene, adorned with delectable cuisine and an abundance of spirits. High-quality wine flowed freely, complemented by the dazzling display of disco lights that had been hastily arranged to suit the young master Jansen's penchant for extravagance.
Yet, amidst the lively atmosphere, Jansen's frustration was palpable as he lamented, "Ah, damn! I can't dance with the same fervor since that cursed accident!" His disappointment hung heavy in the air, prompting the two hired girls to take charge of entertaining the guests, including the illustrious young master Jansen, who craved nothing more than to be captivated by their charm and wit.
"Huh? Why are you so disappointed, sir? We can still have fun without dancing," teased one of the girls in a striking red gown with a daring neckline, exuding a seductive charm.
"We can entertain you until you're completely satisfied. There won't be any more restlessness for you to worry about," added the other girl, gently caressing Jansen's chest, showcasing their expertise in seducing customers, not to be outdone by their rivals.
"Hahaha, damn! Besides being beautiful and sexy, you're both very good at entertaining," exclaimed the lascivious man with a tone of delight. With an aggressive gesture, he planted kisses on both girls' cheeks. "Here, take this for a little fun." Jansen threw a large sum of money into the air in the room, the bills scattering onto the floor and immediately picked up by the two girls with evident satisfaction displayed on their faces.
"Wow, sir, you're incredibly generous. It's no wonder you're renowned among the ladies (prostitutes)," one of the girls remarked with a sly grin, her words dripping with flattery.
Jansen, basking in the glow of the repeated sweet praises, couldn't contain his joy as he swayed and danced exuberantly on the sofa.
"Let's crank up the music even louder!" he commanded his servant, who promptly complied, amplifying the beats filling the room.
The two girls, previously at odds, now showcased their dancing and drinking prowess with a fierce rivalry, each vying for Jansen's attention.
Caught up in the whirlwind of excitement and intoxication, Jansen couldn't resist the allure, eagerly partaking in the revelry and indulging in copious amounts of liquor without restraint.
"Hey, you, big dog! Bring me that thing," Jansen slurred, his words thick with the effects of alcohol.
The sturdy servant, with a firm nod and a buzz cut that accentuated his imposing presence, understood the command and made his way to a dimly lit, cramped, underground chamber. Despite its foreboding atmosphere, the room housed something invaluable within a heavily secured vault.
Returning with the requested item, the servant presented it to Jansen, who, in his intoxicated state, took offense. With a violent outburst, he spat directly onto the servant's face.
"Who do you think you are to dare command me? Huh?!" Jansen's voice boomed with anger.
But the servant remained composed. "No, sir, that's not what I meant," he explained calmly. "You've become dependent on that white powder. Wouldn't it be too torturous if you craved it and it wasn't available?"
Jansen's arrogance flared up once again. Leaning back in his seat, he propped his feet up on the table, pointing accusingly at the servant. "Big dog, you pig. What's your name again? You work here for pay, don't you?" he sneered, looking down at the servant with disdain.
The servant, unfazed by the insults, simply nodded in acquiescence, a silent witness to his master's downward spiral.
The resounding crash of shattered glass filled the room as the large tumbler collided with the servant's head, leaving him reeling from the impact.
"So, is it my responsibility to prepare that thing, or is it yours?" Jansen's voice dripped with contempt as he addressed the servant, his gaze filled with disdain.
The servant hesitated for a moment, his head throbbing from the blow, before responding, "It's my—"
Before he could finish his sentence, another glass hurtled through the air, finding its mark on his already wounded head. The room seemed to spin and distort around him, the edges blurring and shifting in his disoriented vision. Darkness encroached, swallowing everything in its path until there was nothing left but an abyss of emptiness.
"Bored! Get rid of the fat pig," Jansen ordered another servant.
The two girls remained unfazed, but their smiles widened significantly in response to the supposed horrifying incident.
The jubilation and revelry continued without any significant distractions. However, as Jansen reached the peak of his diminishing consciousness—induced by illegal white powder—he beckoned the two girls to enter the room with him.
"You pathetic weaklings. I'll deduct your pay for refusing to inhale it with me," he muttered incessantly as they were ushered into the room.
As the night wore on, Jansen's ramblings grew increasingly incoherent, a testament to the depths of his intoxication and moral decay.
As the heavy door closed behind them, the atmosphere within the room grew thick with an oppressive weight, suffocating in its intensity.
It was as if the very air had turned hostile, wrapping around Jansen like a malevolent shroud, momentarily jolting him from his intoxicated haze and instilling a sense of foreboding.
In that moment, a wave of helplessness and confusion washed over him, engulfing his mind in a swirling tempest of questions and doubts about the unfolding situation.
What was truly happening?
What sinister purpose lay behind the actions of the two women before him?
"Why did you not react when I undressed? Is that not your duty? Hey, you harlots? And what is the meaning of this?" Jansen's voice wavered with a mixture of disbelief and growing apprehension as he took in the sight of the naked figure seated vulnerably in the center of the room, exposed to the chilling breeze that swept through the open window—left deliberately ajar by one of the girls.