Darla walked back to her quarters, her heels clicking faintly against the cold stone floors of *Élige Desiderium*. The night had been long, but she had survived, her confidence unshaken. Her shift had ended, and as fresh girls stepped in to replace her and her group, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The brothel's schedule ran like a well-oiled machine, opening each night and only closing mid-morning. For Darla, the hours ahead would be a rare opportunity to rest, gather her thoughts, and explore the imposing building she now called home.
Her shared room was quiet when she entered. The other girls were either already asleep or too exhausted to speak. Darla slipped out of her attire, laying her revealing black corset dress carefully over the vanity chair, and climbed into her bunk. While the others drifted into fitful slumber, her mind remained active, replaying the night's events. She was already formulating plans to navigate this treacherous world.
---
**Outside the Brothel**
Beyond the brothel's grand, deceptive facade, six men climbed into separate carriages, their figures casting long shadows under the flickering gas lamps. They were the same enigmatic figures Darla had served earlier—dangerous and influential, each carrying an aura of power.
The man in the crisp white suit, his hair neatly styled in a sharp wolf cut, leaned back against the plush cushions of his carriage. "She's something, isn't she?" he mused, breaking the silence.
The man in the maroon suit, his golden hair gleaming under the lantern light, smirked. "Something? She's an anomaly. A human girl like that, commanding such confidence in a place like this? Intriguing."
"She's not ordinary," added the one in black with fiery red hair, his voice cold yet thoughtful. He glanced at his cousin, also dressed in black but with dark, unruly curls. "Did you notice her eyes? That spark—it's rare for someone in her position."
The man in blue, with his untamed black curls, chuckled. "Rare indeed. But let's not forget where we found her. A brothel is no place for nobility."
"I wouldn't dismiss her so easily," the man in red interjected, his voice calm but laced with warning. "She's clever. You can see it in the way she moves, the way she spoke to us without flinching."
The man in white, who had been quiet for a moment, stared out of the carriage window, watching the streets of Vlora City blur past. "I hope to meet her again," he said, his tone carrying more weight than the others expected. "I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of her."
The group exchanged knowing glances but said nothing further. They were bound for their respective regions: the two cousins in black to Blackheath, the man in red to Arerora, the one in blue to Xares, and the man in white to Broln. Each carried their own ambitions, but now their paths had been unexpectedly entangled with a girl who wasn't what she seemed.
---
**Elsewhere in Vlora City**
In a luxurious mansion on the outskirts of the city, the special guest Darla had served earlier sat in a dimly lit study. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows across his chiseled face. His thoughts lingered on the red-haired waitress who had captured his attention.
"She's bold," he murmured to himself, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not many dare to hold my gaze, let alone challenge it."
Reaching for a glass of deep red wine—or what appeared to be wine—he raised it to his lips, savoring the rich, metallic taste. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the firelight.
"Darla," he whispered her name like a promise. "We'll cross paths again. And when we do…" He trailed off, the smirk growing wider.
He placed the glass on the polished oak table and leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. "She has no idea what she's gotten herself into."
---
**Back at Élige Desiderium**
The early morning light crept through the cracks in the heavy drapes of the brothel, signaling the city's awakening. Darla lay awake in her bunk, her mind abuzz. The night's encounters had left her with more questions than answers. Who were those men? Why did they seem so… otherworldly?
Her resolve hardened as she stared at the ceiling. This world was unfamiliar and filled with dangers she couldn't yet comprehend, but she had survived worse. In her past life, she had clawed her way to the top, and this time would be no different.
With a deep breath, Darla closed her eyes, preparing herself for the battles ahead. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but she was ready. After all, she had never been one to back down from a fight.
The familiar sharp voice echoed through the hall, rousing the girls from their sleep. "Get up, lassies! No slacking!" It was the same woman who woke them each day, her tone brisk but not entirely unkind.
Darla stretched, feeling well-rested despite the faint soreness from her long shift the night before. Glancing around, she noticed the others struggling to rise—some still groggy, others fumbling to find their bearings. Shaking her head, she slipped out of her bunk and made her way to the shared washroom.
After freshening up, she took a quick bath, letting the warmth of the water soothe her muscles. Clean and refreshed, she returned to her room, made her bed with precise folds, and donned a simple but comfortable outfit—a loose blouse and a flowing skirt that allowed ease of movement. Her red hair, still damp, fell in soft waves over her shoulders as she headed out.
The cafeteria was bustling with activity when she arrived. Girls from all over the brothel lined up to receive their morning meal. Darla joined the queue, her sharp eyes taking in the mix of emotions in the room—weariness, camaraderie, and a touch of tension.
When her turn came, she received a modest plate of rice and beef stew, a side of steamed vegetables, a shiny red apple, and a cup of water. With her tray in hand, she scanned the room for a place to sit.
Her roommates, Isabella, Mia, Olivia, and Emma, waved her over. Darla walked to their table, taking a seat among them. Over their meal, they began to chat, and Darla took the opportunity to learn more about them.
- **Isabella**, with her warm brown eyes and curly hair, was bubbly and quick to laugh, her personality as lively as her curls.
- **Mia**, who sported a sleek bob with highlighted streaks and caramel eyes, was soft-spoken but carried a quiet wit that emerged in her remarks.
- **Olivia**, with her wavy black hair and light brown eyes, was the most grounded of the group, her words thoughtful and practical.
- **Emma**, shy but observant, had straight black hair with a sharp fringe that framed her delicate features.
Darla enjoyed their company, finding the beginnings of a bond forming. However, one girl was noticeably absent—**Evelyn**.
Darla spotted Evelyn at a table across the room, sitting with a group of older girls. Her chestnut hair, which she took great pride in, was styled meticulously, and her posture was one of exaggerated grace. Evelyn's voice carried over the chatter of the cafeteria as she lavished compliments on the older girls, her words dripping with sugary insincerity.
Darla also noticed how Evelyn interacted with the male guards, her laughter louder and her touch lingering. Darla's sharp eyes caught the faint glow of the guards' eyes—an unsettling reminder of what they truly were.
Lost in thought, Darla was pulled back to the present by Olivia, who had followed her gaze. "Don't waste your time on Evelyn," Olivia said, her tone dry. "She's a lost cause, trying to fit in with them."
Darla smiled faintly and nodded, shifting her attention back to her table. Together, the girls discussed their plans for the day. Since the brothel was closed until evening, they had time to explore, rest, or prepare for the coming night.
---
**The Watchers**
Unbeknownst to Darla, two pairs of eyes observed her from behind a tinted window high above the cafeteria. Madam Violet stood with her arms crossed, her expression inscrutable, while Mr. Simon leaned casually against the frame, his silver hair catching the morning light.
"I like her," Violet remarked, her tone neutral but carrying a hint of intrigue.
Simon raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's rare," he said. "The world must be ending if *you* take a liking to someone."
"She's different," Violet replied, her golden eyes narrowing as she watched Darla. "Sharp. Calculated. And not like the others."
Simon chuckled softly. "She's certainly caught everyone's attention—clients, staff... and yours."
Violet didn't respond, but the corner of her mouth twitched in acknowledgment.
---
**Back in the Cafeteria**
As breakfast wound down, the girls began to file out of the room. Darla followed her group but cast one last glance toward Evelyn's table. Her expression was unreadable, but her sharp eyes took in every detail.
Evelyn, oblivious to the subtle disdain directed her way, laughed loudly at a joke one of the older girls made. Darla turned away, her focus shifting back to her own path.
The day stretched ahead, and Darla knew it would bring new challenges and opportunities. With each passing moment, her resolve to rise above her circumstances grew stronger.