Man is a very disgusting species, today I'm discovering this in the most practical way possible. In short, my sunbaes have a way of dealing with every type of client, and they prioritize quick services that can be offered in an alley or a carriage because they need to stay with me until the Mayor shows up.

But amidst all this, there are all sorts of people who approach us, from horny fat guys constantly scratching their balls to women with a cockroach between their legs. I don't know how they endure this job, being literally and figuratively fucked every day by such unsanitary work situations. That's without counting the city's taxes, because that asshole Mayor shoves taxes down everyone's throat.

I'm just lucky I don't live here, but if I did, by now I would have committed a crime against the homeland and thrown everything into anarchy. Well, in short, I've had brief... experiences? No, this word sounds horrible, "contact" would be more appropriate.

Look, I didn't perform oral sex or touch anyone's junk, I don't want to catch an STI today and spend all my money on a cleric to remove the disease from me, but it was inevitable that some pervert touched my ass, which was remodeled by the polymorph potion Elizia gave me.

I guess I don't need to mention that, by reflex, I landed such a clean hook on his face that the pervert passed out right then and there. My veterans even stopped looking at me with disdain and started being afraid that I'd unleash my inner fighter and beat them up too, I think.

I could certainly take a drag from the elf's cigarette, but besides not knowing how to smoke, the smell could give me away and make the Mayor not want me. I have to maintain the disgusting image of "purity", you know? I've never been pure and don't intend to be, every extra second in this position makes me lose faith in humanity absurdly.

Besides... wow, being a male prostitute sucks. In addition to the complete disrespect from clients, the money you earn is apparently less than what women receive, and of course, you work for both genders without any prejudice. In other words, you sell your ass without lube.

I lean against the establishment's window and cross my arms, which makes my flaccid muscles stand out a little. I lost all my gains from all that crazy sex over the years, how sad...

"Hey, rookie, are you sure you want to follow this line of work?" the elf sunbae asks, lighting another cigarette and with a white stain on the corner of his mouth... Ugh!

"No, it's just for today..."

"Ah, thank goodness. I was starting to think you might be an idol or even a fighter after that punch. I think a lot of old women are charmed by that delicate little face of yours, aren't they, Jonathan?"

"For sure."

Wait, they don't know I'm transformed? It even makes sense, Elizia said things could be different if they knew I was a noble of high hierarchy, and I doubt my playboy fame is as big here as it is in the Imperial City. Still, it's weird to be treated this way, like someone who needs protection.

I guess they must see me as a little brother.

"By the way, rookie, what's your name?"

"Darius..."

"Darius? Your name doesn't match your face at all. I think you should change it to something more delicate when you leave here, something like Nataniel or Gabriel."

Shit, I accidentally said my real name, but thank goodness he didn't connect the dots and rat me out! But why angelic names specifically? I'm the devil incarnate, you crazy elf.

One day I'll die if I keep making these blunders, honestly. It's better to ensure this doesn't leak when the Mayor arrives.

"What if... what if you call me Gabriel from now on? It might please the Mayor even more."

"That's a good idea. That will be your name, then."

He shrugs, satisfied with the answer. This guy seems like decent, at least better than that elf I saved at the auction in Scorn.

"Hey, how did you... end up here? Like, working in this."

It slipped out without much thought, but I'm curious nonetheless, so it shouldn't be a problem.

The elf takes one last slow drag, exhaling the smoke in a sigh that conveyed more exhaustion than pose. He rubs the back of his neck, looks around to ensure no perverted client is about to ask him for anything, and only then replies:

"How did I end up here, huh...? Hah... it's a long story."

He smiles that sad, resigned way, not trying to hide the smell of failure in his words.

"I used to live further south. It's a beautiful place, full of elegant people and many elven communities... but also full of humans who think we're worth less than the sole of their boots."

The image of Moriah, my Moriah, pops into my head as soon as I hear that.

That woman held the title of Countess, fortune, diplomatic respect, everything formally "perfect" after marrying Vandric, but she still lived cooped up in a mansion as if it were a cage. Supposedly, it was to control her desires to conduct experiments on people, but prejudice also played a part.

Everyone in the Imperial City has reservations about demi-humans, and if you went out at night and encountered a woman with wings and white skin, you'd easily run away thinking she was a monster or a ghost.

"I worked in a stable, you know?" he continues, kicking a pebble on the ground. "I cleaned stalls, groomed horses, sometimes they let me ride one or two. It was quiet... until the boss's son started with his jokes. Things like... 'knife-ears', 'the elf men are just like women', 'arrogant pieces of shit',things that weren't true, but he liked to repeat them to annoy me and my other friends."

His gaze hardens, and he grips the cigarette tighter than before.

"One day, he tried to lock me inside the barn. Said I 'should be grateful that a human wanted to lay a hand on me'."

I can already guess why that son of a bitch said that.

"I managed to escape. His father was angrier at me for running away than he was at his son for trying to... you know. So he threatened me and then gave me a beating, and to finish the shit show, a guard also showed up saying I should apologize for the 'confusion'."

Yeah, I know how that is...

"So I came here. Mastan seemed... free, you know? I also wanted to be as far away from the south as possible, so I decided to go to the other side of the country. My father allowed me to leave, thinking it was best for me, and generally, places near the north let demi-humans live in peace. Only that freedom isn't cheap, and I came here without a dime in my pocket. A guy found me near the docks and... well... he asked me if I wanted to work by 'selling my charm', since elves were always in high demand."

He makes air quotes with his fingers.

"I said no. He gave me a sincere warning that, at night, there were criminals who could kill me just for seeing me on the street, and that he would be willing to provide at least a room for me if I did the job. Looking back, I'm kind of grateful, since that guy was actually telling the truth all along."

This must be because of the situation in that shantytown and what the ma'am from before told me. Supposedly, Mastan before Ophelia and the Orc was in a terrible situation regarding crime, that improved with the arrival of the two, but most people now have to grind their own bones to put food on the table.

"In the beginning, I hated everything and cried almost every night, but I still needed to eat. So, I got used to the routine, learned new things, and learned to tolerate it... well, it's not like I get paid little. If it weren't for that damn Mayor, I would have managed to open my own brothel."

Still, what a shitty case. I knew the situation for demi-humans was never good, but I also never made such an effort to listen about other people, since most of my time was spent with Elizia or one of the girls at Madam Cerise's brothel. Only after realizing my reincarnation did I come into more contact with them, and I remember the clear scene of the people imprisoned in that auction.

This makes me angry, a rage so great that I feel like punching the King in the face for not doing his job right and also all those advisors who just scratch their butts instead of being helpful to society. The elf gives me a light pat on the shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Hey, don't keep that look on your face, Gabriel. You just asked, and that irritated look scares a lot of people away, it also causes wrinkles and ruins your makeup. But what about you? Why did you end up here? You don't look like the type who does this often."

"I need to sort some things out for my friends, so I offered to get proof against the Mayor and help them."

"And you have a contact with a noble or something? It looks like a spy mission."

"I do. I would be happy to help the people here, even if only for a short time."

The elf gives a sincere smile, stroking my new long hair. I don't much like masculine touching like this, since it's weird, but I guess it's a thank you for me going this far. Sure, part of the reason is for revenge, but I'd love to crush that Mayor and kick that midget who annoyed me.

He takes another drag, then smashes the cigarette on the ground with the heel of his boot.

"You are a good person, then. Now, let's work... she's coming."

He tilts his face to the side, looking at the rest of the street where a hooded person begins walking towards us.

"Remember to act with elegance, you want to hook her and play into this woman's tastes. Act like a fragile boy, look away, blush, anything like that will reel her into your net. After that, it's all on you. Jonathan and I trust you."

Thank you for the vote of confidence, sunbaes. I'm going to focus on this, and out of my respect for you and also knowing how cool you two are, I guarantee I'll crush Ophelia with all my being and screw up the rest of her life. Time to lock in.

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