Fransisca came out holding Harper by the arm. Her steps were brisk, her face tight with irritation. Harper looked dazed and exhausted, barely able to keep up. The door creaked open as she handed Harper over to Jesse, who stood waiting with a furrowed brow.
"I wiped off the hypnosis. Prepare for the lesson," Fransisca said, brushing off her hands like Harper was just another chore.
"What happened madam?" Harper asked, concerned as she looked over Fransisca's disoriented expression.
"Angel hypnotized you and you wanted to kill Quincy," Fransisca stated flatly, with no softness in her voice.
"I tried to kill him?!" Harper's eyes widened in disbelief, blinking rapidly.
"You stabbed him."
"I did?" she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Sure! But he is fine and you are fine now too. You are starting your lesson today."
Harper recoiled slightly. "What lesson?"
"Quincy wants you registered as a courtesan."
Her nose flared. "He is not crazy is he? I'm not gonna become a courtesan!"
Fransisca snapped her head toward her, expression sharp. "If you don't want to become a courtesan what do you want to be?"
"I can become a guard or something," Harper said stubbornly, folding her arms tightly against her chest.
Fransisca let out a bitter laugh. "And what power does a guard hold, Harper? Are you not old enough to have some sense? You are sold to the courtesan house. You can't leave here forever! You saved Quincy back at the field. He is trying to save you by making you a courtesan when you are not even worth it!"
Harper's shoulders stiffened. "You know about it?"
"Sure I do! And as soon as Logan finds out that you once worked on his field, he will try every means to kill you. The only way out for you is to hide under Quincy—or else you will get ripped apart!"
Fransisca stepped closer, her voice cold and biting now. "The whole courtesan house hates you now. You can't survive a week in here without support. Just rethink your decision if you don't want to die miserably! The powerful decide the fate of the world, Harper!" With that, she turned on her heels and stormed off, the echo of her heels tapping against the polished floor fading down the hallway.
Harper stood frozen for a moment, then slowly lifted her hand to wipe the tears streaming silently down her face.
"Is there really no way out for me except to become a courtesan and serve men?"
"No, Harper!" Jesse said gently, her eyes soft with concern. "You are so lucky that Quincy chose you. He wanna make you a noble courtesan directly, which means you will be above every courtesan in the house because your companion wields so much power. Brace yourself, Harper! Quincy is giving you so much power to trample on whoever tries to mess with you. This house is full of cunning people—show them who is the master of the tricks. Don't let them mess with you in the courtesan house."
Harper met her eyes, nodding slowly. "Thank you, Jesse."
"Your lesson starts tomorrow!"
"I will be there."
—
"Boss, what should we do with Angel?" Paige asked Quincy later that night.
"She is a courtesan. We can't touch her."
"But she tried to harm you."
"The courtesan house has rules! I can't punish her for anything. She is working for her companion—she is doing the work she was paid for."
"So we have to let go of it?"
"If anyone harms a courtesan, the courtesan house will go after them no matter what. They have an obligation to protect their courtesans. If I have to deal with anyone, it will be Logan. He is hiding back deliberately because he knows I can't touch Angel."
"That's why you need a courtesan too, boss."
"That's why I'm making Harper one. I'm doing this to protect her and also to protect myself. She will be my shield."
"Yes, boss."
—
The next day…
"Your left leg out!" Fransisca barked.
Harper, now dressed in a fitted practice robe, hesitantly put her leg forward.
"Straighten your back! Straighten it out properly!" Fransisca said and walked behind her, pressing a stick lightly against her spine. Harper flinched, then adjusted her posture.
"Stand on your toes and look forward. Focus your eyes on where you are going! Good! Now smile—happily. Do not fake it. Walk!"
"I should walk on my toes?" Harper asked, incredulous.
"Yes, walk! Do it gently and elegantly. The plates must never fall!"
Harper inhaled deeply and started walking, balancing a plate on her head and two on her arms. She took three hesitant steps—clatter! The plate on her arm slipped and crashed.
"Keep walking!" Fransisca didn't flinch.
Harper moved again—crash! The one on her head fell and shattered. She flinched, arms instinctively curling up as everything slipped out of balance.
Fransisca sighed and sat down slowly, rubbing her temples. "Start over."
Jesse quietly picked another set of plates, setting them on Harper's head and arms again.
"Walk! Straighten up! Stop walking like a thug. You are a lady."
"I'm trying!"
"You are not! Walk elegantly! Yes! Good!"
—
Another day of training…
"Sit down! Don't put your legs apart that way. Cross it gently! Good!"
Harper obeyed, her face set with concentration.
"Carry the drink and sip it. Do not gulp it down. Good! Place it down gently without it making a sound."
Harper did so, only for the glass to clink slightly.
"Do it again."
She repeated it.
"Again!"
—
The sun hadn't fully risen when Harper stood in front of the mirror, eyes sunken but blazing with quiet defiance. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the thin robe Fransisca insisted they wore for morning drills. The bruises on her knees from yesterday still ached, but she squared her shoulders anyway.
"Good morning," Jesse greeted as she walked in with a tray of warm tea and light breakfast. She didn't speak. She just took the cup and sipped slowly, remembering not to gulp.
She watched her. "You're doing better."
She didn't respond. She couldn't. Not yet. She wasn't ready to accept this place, this path… but she knew she didn't have a choice.
—
"You are learning embroidery today."
"Madam!" Harper called out, holding up her hands. They were covered in small red cuts and patches of dried blood. "The harp gave me cuts all over yesterday."
"What's wrong?"
"The harp gave me cuts all over yesterday."
"It wouldn't affect your needle grip. It's just a needle."
"It's not like holding a sword to fight."
Fransisca paused, narrowed her eyes. "Then consider it a sword and swing it around. That is your weapon."
"I'm so tired."
"Give up if you are!"
"No! I won't!"
"Finish the embroidery and train on the harp for an hour."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Good!"
Embroidery day again. The needle felt like a blade between her fingers, but this time, her hand didn't tremble. The pattern she sewed—imperfect, crooked, but it looked like something. A flower. A single red bloom.
Fransisca inspected it. "You're learning."
Harper blinked in surprise. Praise?
Fransisca wasn't smiling though. "But this is the barest minimum expected of you. You are Quincy's courtesan. You will not be average."
Later That Night
Harper sat at the harp, practicing the same melody she heard days ago. This time, she played it fully. Jesse leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her. When she finished, she looked up.
He clapped once. "You're becoming a courtesan."
She stared down at her hands. Bruised, sore, stiff.
"No," she said. "I'm becoming a weapon."
Angel paced in her chamber, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why haven't I heard anything from Harper or Quincy? Did Quincy kill her first?"
Her assistant, Celine, stood at the door, hesitant. "I'm not sure ma'am. I haven't seen her around as well and Mr. Dylan too hasn't been to the courtesan house since the day Harper was given to the minister."
Angel's jaw tightened. "I need to find out! Let's go, Celine."
"Yes, Angel!"
She stormed out of the room, Celine scrambling behind her, heels clicking on the polished marble floor. As they descended the stairs, Angel walked past a practice room and paused, catching a glimpse through the open door. A girl sat upright, her back perfectly straight, silver robe flowing elegantly around her. Soft notes from a harp drifted through the air.
Angel's eyes narrowed, and she took a sharp step back. "Celine, who is that?"
"Who?" Celine peered in. Her eyes went wide. "What the hell! Is that Harper?"
"Harper? Harper in the courtesan robe?" Angel's voice was sharp with disbelief. "She is training?"
"I think so! If she's wearing the courtesan robe, it means she's training to become one."
Angel's lips curled in contempt. "What the fuck!" She barged into the room, her presence casting a cold shadow.
Fransisca raised her brow but didn't flinch. Harper didn't stop playing; her fingers glided over the strings, her eyes fixed on Jesse with a small, content smile.
"Madam Fransisca," Angel spat.
"Yes, Angel," Fransisca said calmly.
"Why is Harper here?"
"She is training, as you can see."
"She is training?" Angel scoffed, voice laced with venom. "Is she worthy to become a courtesan? She is just a lowly girl that you bought!"
Fransisca's voice was measured but firm. "No one is too lowly to become a courtesan, Angel. As long as you have the quality."
"And she does? She's just a boyish girl! She's ugly and walks like a thug!"
Fransisca shook her head. "Ugly? Harper ugly? That's ridiculous. Angel, you are not allowed to slander a courtesan. If not for Logan, do you think you have the qualities to become a courtesan too?"
"I have qualifications! I'm the best courtesan here!"
Fransisca rose slowly from her seat. "Everything you know, I taught you, Angel. Do not pass your boundaries."
"Madam Fransisca—"
"You are a courtesan and get paid to do all your companion's bidding. But don't let it get into your head, Angel. Even if you are obligated to share your companion's enemies, you should know there's a limit to it. Don't offend the wrong person."
Angel sneered. "Harper is the wrong person to offend? That's bullshit! Are you trying to put her above us? You never taught any of the courtesans how to play harp or offered the classes and we didn't complain because it's your special talent—but you're teaching Harper? Trying to transfer your legacy to her?"
Fransisca's gaze was cold. "I just see her fit enough to take on my talent."
"And we are not?"
"Being a harpist is not about flashing teeth with men, entertaining their thoughts, and inheriting their enemies. It's not a talent to be wasted."
"And my talent is wasting?"
"Maybe you should try to find out."
Harper, composed and calm, finally glanced at Angel. Her eyes were cold. "Harper, just watch! I wanna see how you will survive in the courtesan house. Which companion will even take a fool like you, I wonder."
"You shouldn't be in a hurry, Angel. Who knows whether I will be above you immediately after I'm registered."
Angel scoffed. "If you ever get above me in this house, then I will run around the whole Shield Hotel calling myself a fool."
"Really? Do not forget your words later on."
"Most definitely!" Angel turned sharply and stormed out, heels clacking in fury.
As silence returned, Jesse exhaled. "Angel is such a fool. I don't think she's doing all this because of Logan. She definitely hates you."
"She's used to people doing her bidding," Harper murmured, her fingers plucking the harp again. "I was almost the first person to go against her. She won't like me."
"Logan gave her so much power."
Harper tilted her head slightly, her voice thoughtful. "I guess she pays more emotionally." The soft tune returned under her fingertips.
"You've gotten better," Jesse said, impressed.
"All thanks to you."
Suddenly, someone burst into the room, panting. "Guys, guys!"
"Jade, why are you running?" Violet asked.
"There's news, guys!"
"What news?"
"There's a ball tomorrow night—violet!"
"A ball?" Olivia's brow furrowed slightly.
"Is any client hosting a party?"
"No! This is strictly the courtesan ball."
"The courtesans ball?" Violet leaned forward. "Is there a new courtesan?"
"Definitely!"
"Oh my goodness! When did Madam Fransisca start scouting for a new face?"
"I don't know either, but they said she is someone who was already in the courtesan house."
"Really? Who could that be?"
"It's Harper."
"Harper?" Violet's voice echoed from the doorway. She turned to Angel who had walked in silently. "Harper is gonna become a courtesan?"
"Sure."
"Did that minister favor her and request her to be registered?"
"Which minister? My man didn't sleep with her."
"He didn't sleep with her? Didn't you give them permission to, Olivia?"
"Quincy sent us back and took advantage instead."
"Quincy? The Dylan son?"
"Yes."
"Is she getting registered because of Quincy?"
"Why would she get registered because of him? Quincy doesn't play with the courtesans. He barely even visited here despite the fact that he needs a courtesan."
"True! Even Daisy tried so hard to get with him. He wouldn't even spare her a glance."
"Where is Daisy?"
"She's somewhere, heartbroken and sad."
"Because of Harper?"
"Yes."
"She's crazy!" Jade laughed. "She was really into Harper?"
"Definitely. She loves her like crazy. She wants to give all her money to her if possible."
"She should brace up and find a new companion. It's already annoying moving from the noble's hall into the normal courtesan hall."
"For real. If I were the one, I would be dying of shame. I can't go backwards ever!"
"It's hard getting a companion after losing one. That's why you have to stick with whoever got you at that moment."
"That's true."
"So are we all gonna welcome the new courtesan tomorrow?"
"Of course we will!"
"Y'all hold your companions tight. They might want to subscribe for the new face."
"Harper is not even a threat. She should work hard first to get a companion. Who knows how many men she will serve to remain relevant in the house. Getting a companion is not a piece of cake."
"Definitely."
From the back of the room, Angel kept her smile composed—but her eyes burned with unspoken malice.
I wonder how you will get a companion, Harper. You need to try harder to stay relevant in the courtesan house, she thought, her lips curving with calculated spite.