Three days had passed since the grand opening of the Blackthorn House of Pleasure, and business was booming.
From morning to moonrise, the elegant house pulsed with life. Giggling clients, aromatic oils, fluttering silk, and the occasional symphonic moan that echoed out into the street. The house had quickly earned a reputation across Nettlehusk as a sanctuary of divine indulgence.
Inside, Pip was hard at work.
Literally.
He stood in a softly lit chamber at the back of the house, hands alight with gentle runes. Soft vines curled up the walls and the bed was a mossy masterpiece of botanical enchantment, all courtesy of Pip's recent upgrades.
His body glows faintly with a warm, rosy hue, his mechanical limbs whirring with expert precision as he finishes pleasing his first client of the day.
