Prologue – Chapter 1: Where the Stars Do Not Shine
There was the smell of blood, spilled wine, sweat, and semen.
And the silence.
A thick silence, like a sticky web stretched between the damp wooden walls and the sheets too often washed in dirty water. The kind of silence that never comes alone, trailing behind it heavy memories and glances that are never forgotten.
Vaën was six years old when he opened his eyes in this world. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He just opened his eyes.
And understood that he was no longer where he came from.
Not a hospital. Not a clean bed. Not loving arms.
No. A cold, hard floor, a door slamming, a hoarse voice spitting: "Pick up that shit and make sure not a drop is left."
That was his first night here.
No name. No story. No identity. Just… a kid dropped from another world. In this frail, filthy body, already marked by hunger. And the stars in his eyes were already weak. Timid. As if he knew.
"I'm dead."
That was the first thought that crossed his mind. And yet, he was alive. He breathed. He suffered.
So, he got up.
And he picked up.
The Madame, everyone called her that. No name either. Just "The Madame."
Fat. Round. Pale as a pig too well-fed, with a mouth always red, and a voice like iron scraped against glass. She looked at him like one looks at a useful object. A living broom.
"Vaën," she decided one evening. "That's your name. Simple. Short. And you'll answer when we call, or it's the belt."
So, he answered.
Always.
The first years were blurry. Work. Beatings. Hunger. Women, men, fake laughter, muffled screams, locked doors.
But sometimes, at night, when the chaos finally quieted down, he'd look through the small window. A tiny gap between the poorly nailed boards.
And he saw… the stars.
They vibrated in the black sky, like souls dancing too far away from him. And then, something inside him… shone faintly.
A whisper.
A memory from before.
An instinct.
At eight years old, she began to touch him.
Not like a mother. Not like a human.
Like a broken mistress trying to fix her emptiness by breaking someone else.
He didn't understand at first. Then he understood. But he never said a word.
Never.
He learned to breathe in silence. To let his mind float. To observe.
He learned to read their faces, their weaknesses, their needs.
To survive.
And the stars… they dulled a little more every night. As if they understood they could do nothing.
Then there was a man. A client.
A rich merchant. Obese. Always dressed in silk. A sticky grin on his face.
The Madame laughed loudly that day.
"He's buying you for the night, my boy. You've grown up. This isn't a gift, it's an honor. A client like him deserves respect. And if you cry, you'll lose a tooth."
He didn't cry. He didn't scream either.
But a part of him, that night, died.
And when he returned… something else took its place.
The silence.
It became his weapon. His armor. His temple.
Vaën spoke little. Listened a lot. He knew every corner of the brothel. Every hollow board. Every hiding place. Every moment of weakness from the Madame.
He served, cleaned, obeyed. But in his eyes, one day… Someone said:
"There's something about your eyes, kid. They're weird, like you're staring at the sky..."
Vaën didn't respond.
But he remembered.
Thirteen.
The number rang in his head like a death knell.
It was the year of too much. The year of emptiness.
The year the stars started moving.
One evening, when he returned from a run—stolen wine from the local dwarf merchant—he found the common room empty. Unusually empty.
And there, in a dark corner, a man was beating a girl. A kid.
Not a prostitute.
A child. His age.
Vaën said nothing. But he advanced.
Silently.
A poker. Fire. A cold flame in his throat.
And he struck.
Again.
Again.
And again.
Not to save the girl. Not for justice.
Just because something inside him… had exploded.
The blood. The noise. The silence after. The fear in the Madame's eyes.
But too late.
Vaën hadn't moved. He breathed. And his eyes…
They were shining.
It was that night that the chains broke.
The world… stopped.
He felt dizzy. A cold breath on his back. A shiver under his skin.
And in his head… a voice. Not human. Not divine. Something forgotten.
A feeling.
A whisper from another sky:
[Class obtained: Prostitute]
[Specialization: Servant – Lv. 1]
[Alignment: Unknown]
[Unlocked skill: Eyes of the Seer]
[Unlocked skill: Silent Submission]
[Unlocked skill: Body Resilience]
And beneath his feet… the ground vibrated.
He fell to his knees.
His heart beat like a broken drum.
His skin burned.
And in his eyes, the stars… returned.
Faintly.
But they were there.
[Awakening completed]
Name: Vaën
Age: 16
Primary class: Prostitute
Level: 1
Status: Not affiliated with a guild
Skills:
Eyes of the Seer
Silent Submission
Body Resilience (passive)
And all of this… was just the beginning.