Nighttime was when the city came alive, when it was at its most profitable, productive, and perfectly unscrupulous. Bars and brothels made their fortunes feeding on the rich and the miserable.
It was vile. Immoral. Unacceptable.
But what was even more unacceptable...
Was that Stephen didn't get a cut of it.
He stood at the edge of an alleyway, watching as coin funneled through the cracks in the cobblestone, as laughter poured from windows, and business owners bled their patrons dry.
Phase one of Claris's route required capital. Hijacking her wedding wasn't cheap. Nor was staying alive in a kingdom that no longer backed him.
If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to thrive. He needed a fortune. And more than that, he needed a business that printed gold.
But the problem was always the same.
Where to start?
"Even if the brothel play isn't totally dead, what can I even offer the owner to get an audience?" Stephen muttered. "Maybe the Holy Grail? ...No. No, it's too important."
"I assure you it's not." The system sighed beside him. "But do you really believe you can do this? Even with the money, you're no longer royalty. Why would the Grandbelm family even consider you?"
"They most likely wouldn't," Stephen admitted, bending to pick up a lone piece of chalk from the ground.
"I hate that I can never understand what you're thinking."
"You're just slow on the pickup."
"No, you're just spitting out incoherent ideas like a madman."
Stephen sighed, then wrote on the wall. "Think about it like this."
Old route---------------|--------------Old ending
NG+(Old Route in regular situations)---------|---------Same Old ending
Instead. This NG+ is a new route. And,
New Route------------|--------Unknown ending
"See?" he said, tapping the last line. "Most New Game Plus files just add a few changes to the main story content, maybe more items, or even enemies. But this is different, this completely changes the story. So I'll be taking it one step further too."
"Your gamer jargon is making my non-existent brain throb."
"In normie terms," Stephen explained. "I'm going to break the game by creating my own path in this already new path. Everything down this line would be to my choosing."
"Wouldn't that mean the entire world would undergo some kind of randomization because of the changes?"
"That would usually be the case," Stephen said, folding his arms. "But your existence and the existence of the 'goddess' means that can't happen."
"...Because for this to work, the main heroines have to exist in the world. Even if they're altered, even if everything else changes... their presence is non-negotiable. The same as the sun or moon." The system responded.
Then as if nodding, the system continued.
"Alright. I can finally understand what you mean, so for phase one, we need to amass wealth. And I'm guessing a whole lot of it."
"Yep." Stephen clicked his fingers. "With enough money, I could even find an alternate way to saving the kingdom."
"And the problem is still how to start?"
"Unfortunately." Stephen admitted. "Now that I've revoked my princely privileges, I'm a nobody in this part of the country. I lack the one thing most merchants have... and what might that be, system?"
"Trust and connection?"
"This is where you—" Stephen waved it off again. "Forget it. Trust is the most important thing for a businessman. With it, I could get loans, skip the grind, and fast track everything."
Then he added. "But that's what so annoying and so fun about new saves! Getting to go through crazy amounts of trial and error."
Stephen tossed the chalk away, walking forward.
"Alright, first things first. We need to do some recruiting."
"Recruiting?" The system inquired.
"I'm starting from ground zero. Earning the trust of people at the top? It's impossible, and honestly, kind of stupid." He kept walking, hands slipping into his pockets. "Instead, I'll gain the trust of the ones at the bottom... and drag them to the top with me."
"Doesn't that mean?"
"I'm planning to start my own brothel."
"Wait a second... isn't that way harder?"
"Yes it is." Stephen agreed. "I'll need a building, customers ready to indulge, staff at the go, and a whole lot of starting equity."
"All things you don't have currently."
"All things I don't have... yet." Stephen corrected, still walking forward, to one of the many bars scattered across the street. Lights beamed forward in waves, the sound of drunken cheer echoing for miles. The smell of beer almost like a second layer of air now.
"Finances are low. And it's affecting a lot of the businesses." Stephen said, entering one of the bars.
He might've been underage in this world, but he certainly didn't look it. With his clean garbs, blonde hair and blue eyes that screamed he had money.
No security guard or barkeeper would dare turn him away.
He stepped inside and took a seat at one of the many empty barstools, likely vacated by someone too drunk to stay upright.
Across the counter, the bartender wasn't paying him any mind, too focused on mixing a drink.
To his side, about three chairs away, was a man in a loose garbs. Clean, but disorganized. His collar had been unbuttoned, to his side, a half open bag.
Ripe for the picking.
Stephen held up two fingers as the bartender glanced his way. The man gave a nod, then turned to pour two jars of beer and slid them across the counter.
"One is for the kind gentleman to my right please." Stephen said, and the bartender did as told, heading over and delivering the drink with a point to him.
With the current financial situation in the country, businessmen who weren't at the top of the food chain were sure to become tired, annoyed and in need of a place to relax from the days failed grind.
"Thanks for the drink." The man scooted over, white hair glimmering under the lights in flashes. He was much younger than Stephen had thought, almost as young as he was, if not just a little older.
Then he added.
"But sorry to disappoint you, I'm not into guys." He said, then slid the beer back.
Stephen raised both hands in surrender. "Apologies if it came off that way. I just wanted to break the ice."
"Why?" He asked, "what would you gain from talking to me?"
"An intelligent mind, underutilized by the inadequate masses." Stephen replied, then outstretched his hand. "I'm sorry, my name is Stephen... Stephen Willows."
The man glanced at his palm for a second, before shaking it firmly. "I'm Tello Omara."
"First things first, Tello." Stephen said. "It's nice to meet you, I'm sorry if it seems urgent. I just couldn't help but admire the contents of your bag from afar."
Tello blinked, glancing at the half-zipped satchel. "You're into architecture?"
"Of course I am," Stephen said, without missing a beat.
In truth, he wasn't, and him actually saying what was in the bag made it so much easier.
"I just recently came to the city, and I needed a location to start a new business of mine." Stephen said, then grabbed the jar of beer. Putting it to his mouth. "One I believe would be worthwhile."
"Worthwhile in this economy?" Tello scoffed. "That doesn't seem likely, the only way to make money now is to either have inherited it, or sell to the plain man's desires."
Stephen raised the jar to his lips but barely tasted it. He was more of a Mon***r Energy kind of guy.
"If your business isn't sex or drugs," Tello added, finishing his beer, "you're wasting your time."
"Then I suppose we better get started as soon as possible then."
Tello squinted. "You're starting a nightlife business? Which one?"
"A brothel."
Tello nearly laughed. "You'd be better off opening a bar. Love Supreme has the brothel scene locked down. You'd be throwing your money away. I'm telling you this for your own good."
"I know about them," Stephen said calmly. "That's exactly why I'm opening a brothel."
"Didn't you hear a word I just said?"
"I did. And your concerns would be valid... if I didn't already have a way to pull the rug out from under them."
"You're trying to go head to head with Madame Verre?" Tello shook his head. "There's a reason, all the other nightlife businesses within a twenty kilometer radius are bars. Going in the brothel game against her is suicide."
"Immortality has always been my curse." Stephen smiled, staring directly into Tello's eyes once more. "Do you also want to be afflicted?"
"What are you talking about?" Tello asked, grabbing his jar. It was empty.
"I want you to create my brothel building, in the plot by the alleyway to the side of Love Supreme."
"You're trying to put my head on a swivel here, sir." Tello said, raising the jar to his face. Merely as a cover now. "I'm sorry, but I can't help."
"How many people did you show those plans today?" Stephen asked. "Five? Ten? Triple that?"
Tello pulled the jar down slightly.
"Imagine being the one that makes the building that defeats THE Love Supreme." Stephen muttered, voice low, melancholic, seeping through the noise and straight into his mind. "The buzz it would bring your name, the pull it would bring your whole career. It'd be something else, wouldn't it?"
"It's not that simple, okay?" Tello snapped, slamming his jar down on the counter. "If this doesn't work, I'm done. Blacklisted. I won't be allowed near a building site in this city until I die."
"Would you rather spend your time wasting away in this bar?" Stephen asked, pushing himself off the seat. "I believe that's quite the dull way to go."
"You think I want to die in obscurity? I've had designs turned away since I was fifteen."
"All the more reason, no?"
A pause.
Then.
"You don't understand," Tello said, his voice low. "Madame Verre is dangerous. If this doesn't work out... she'll make our lives a living hell. If she doesn't send us there first."
"Humans can only step on what's beneath them," Stephen replied. "If this works, she won't be able to do that. Simple as that."
Tello said nothing.
With a slow turn, his eyes landed on his bag. At dozens of building plans, drawn, redrawn, painted. Unseen by anyone other than himself, unwanted by anyone other than this man.
He gulped slowly.
"Assuming... just assuming... I do this." Tello's voice shook as he spoke. "How sure are you that it would work?"
Stephen, now standing. Smiled, then looked straight into his eyes. They pierced through him like sapphire. As blue as the sea itself. It was the kind of indescribable gaze you spent your whole life trying to put into words.
"I'm not sure at all," Stephen said, extending his hand.
Tello stared at it.
"But, isn't that the beauty of it?"
"...You're insane," he muttered, swallowing hard.
Stephen chuckled softly. "Then let me ask you again... would you rather die in obscurity, or show the world what they passed out on?"
Tello glanced at the hand again. For a split second, it flickered between an angel and a demon. It was hard to say which one stood before him, and even harder still to say which he needed more.
But he knew it.
No matter what happened after today, if he didn't take this man's hand, here and now.
He would never be anything more than a rejected architect.
He reached out, grabbing his palm. Another handshake, one that would change his life forever.
And as he sold his soul to a man he met ten minutes ago. He could only wonder... who exactly was Stephen Willows?