1-8

Panthonia couldn't explain why he had been coming to this hotel for several days in a row. He knew as an investigator from the security bureau, he shouldn't be wandering around the Queen's Quarter at night. Fixed routines could lead to trouble, he knew. Salvaney's men were often active nearby, he knew. Because he didn't smoke or drink, and didn't want anything to eat, he usually had a maid bring him a glass of water and used a generous tip as an excuse to occupy a seat. He sat here with his glass of water, listened to Hilsbeth's singing, and then left. It was hard to call it surveillance.

Phipin hadn't shown up. It seemed that Koen had finally decided to discipline his son, he thought. Or perhaps the young master had found another woman worthy of receiving the diamond necklace from him.

Occasionally, he found Hilsbeth's performance on stage quite amusing: she knew he was there, tried not to look in his direction, but also didn't want to appear as if she was ignoring a section of the audience.

This night, when Hilsbeth's singing was halfway through, Panthonia heard noisy voices and footsteps coming from the entrance of the hotel lobby. Next came the sounds of pulling chairs and sitting down, but after that, the lobby became much quieter than before. Panthonia turned his head and saw Salvaney sitting across four tables, with about twenty of his men occupying three tables.

A glance was enough. Panthonia turned back to face the stage, instinctively shifting his body slightly to obscure his face. Salvaney himself probably didn't recognize him, but it was hard to say the same for his men.

Hilsbeth forgot a word when she saw who the new guests were. Fortunately, the song was almost at its end, and nobody was really paying attention to her anyway. They had never been here before, at least not since she started working here. Thinking of what Panthonia had said before, she involuntarily tightened her shoulders. At that moment, the hotel owner came out, and as he passed below the stage, he gestured to Hilsbeth to continue.

Continue? What was the next song... what was it?

She couldn't help but glance at Panthonia, but by then he had already stood up and left his table. She didn't dare to spend too much time looking for him.

Pansonio walked towards the side door. Even if he didn't leave immediately, he at least needed to find a relatively safe position. He knew that if someone identified him, it would be difficult to escape from this hotel. But he also didn't want to miss the rare opportunity to observe Salvaney up close.

"Hey, you, you." When he reached the door, a man suddenly blocked his way. "Where are you going?"

"I've run out of money and need to go back, what's it to you?"

The man lightly patted Panthonia's shoulder. He didn't like this kind of action.

"Don't you know who's here? It's Lord Salvaney, don't tell me you don't know him."

"Of course, I know."

"As soon as he sits down, you get up to leave, it's so rude. Go back, go back and sit. Got it?"

Pansonio turned around and saw several more of Salvaney's men standing by the other side doors in the lobby. He returned to his seat.

The hotel owner walked up to Salvaney's table and said a few words to him, then turned around and raised his hands to the surrounding area, as if celebrating something. "Everyone, quiet down a bit," he said. "Lord Salvaney has something to say."

Hilsbeth was about to leave the stage, but one of Salvaney's men closest to her said, "Miss, please stay. We like your singing, just like your other audience. After Lord Salvaney finishes speaking, please continue singing."

"O... okay." She nodded. So, she could only stand still, and the smoke swirling around the room made her feel nauseous for the first time.

Salvaney stood up. He was taller than all his men. What Panthonia knew was that Salvaney had originally made a name for himself with his fists. He had once killed his opponent with his fists in the finals of the underground arena in the Queen's Quarter, then killed the loser who had come looking for trouble, and the angry sponsor of the opponent in the finals. The sponsor was the deputy head of a big gang at the time, and the other side took this opportunity to win the war with Salvaney's help; three years later, the only survivor was Salvaney.

"I'm here to celebrate with everyone, but today is not a special day." He began. "People like to celebrate various holidays, such as birthdays, New Year's, anniversaries. These things are all bullshit. I celebrate because I'm happy, I don't need a date on the calendar to tell me, 'Salvaney, today is the twentieth anniversary of your mother no longer spanking your ass, you can go have fun.' Why am I so happy? Because I just realized a great truth. I've been here for so many years, and I've finally realized this truth, that since I happen to be passing by this shop, I should share it with everyone as soon as possible. This truth is about the Queen's Quarter. I think I'm more familiar with it than anyone here. The Queen's Quarter is like a crazy bitch who excites and annoys you in all kinds of ways, complains about this and that, even slaps you in the face, making you have to slap her back. But you still can't leave her, and she can't leave you. Fellow citizens, we shouldn't envy each other, plot against each other, because we're all playing with this crazy bitch, and we'll have to play with her for the rest of our lives, because we love her so much."

Salvaney paused for three seconds, scanning the surroundings before continuing his speech.

"What is Stormwind City then? Stormwind City is the pimp of our Queen's Quarter. You know what these old women in this line of work are like: exploiting and controlling their girls in every possible way. Making them hungry, beating them, doing everything. Yes, Stormwind City doesn't see our Queen's Quarter as human. Stormwind City first whips the Queen's Quarter, then cuts open her underwear to see if there's any money hidden inside. I can't stand it. And neither should you. Because the Queen's Quarter is the bitch we can't live without, and we don't want to see her bruised and starving."

To Panthonia, so far, this sounded like an incendiary speech intended to incite a riot, but Salvaney clearly couldn't cause any major trouble in this hotel. However, perhaps this was a dress rehearsal. Look, in the Queen's Quarter, politicians pull votes like this. We use various rhetorical devices that people outside this world find hard to understand.

"So what should we do?" a voice came from the corner of the hall.

"Good question. What should we do?" Salvaney responded. "For me, the answer is simple. We need to take it slow, have some patience, listen to our bitch's complaints, and then solve her problems. Today, I'm going to demonstrate how to do this."

His men pushed a man they had been holding onto to the ground. The man curled up, hands in a prayer-like position almost touching his forehead to the ground, trembling incessantly.

"This man. This man," Salvaney said. "He's Stormwind City's tax officer. He grew up in the Queen's Quarter, he's one of us, but he wrote a report saying the Queen's Quarter has serious tax evasion issues and should be strictly managed. Yes, he whispered in Stormwind City's ear, saying our bitch still has some value and can withstand this kind of exploitation."

He rolled up the sleeve of his right hand, standing in front of the kneeling man.

"You, listen to what the Queen's Quarter has to say. Listen to how sad you've made her, how long she's cried. Put your ear against her and listen with all your might."

The man's hands fumbled away from his forehead, suspended on either side, then slowly turned his head sideways, letting his left ear press against the ground. Some of the guests in the distance stood up, craning their necks to see.

"Tell everyone what you hear."

"I... I hear..."

The man didn't know how to articulate it. He did hear something, the fear and excitement mingled in the room; they rushed into his brain in the form of noise reverberating through the air. He didn't need to articulate it either. Salvaney lifted the table, letting one leg press against the right ear of the dying man pointing towards the ceiling, then clenched fist smashed the table corner. Wood splintered, bones shattered, and other sounds mixed together, indistinguishable. Those who had stood up to watch the commotion from a distance had already flopped back into their chairs as the noise rang out. Among the guests closer by, someone suddenly jumped up, or slumped to the ground.

"Don't move, everyone sit down," one of his men ordered.

The man didn't die immediately, which was also Salvaney's intention. He turned the dying man's limbs, eyeballs, blood, and skull into his exhibits. If he could do this to this man, he could do the same to everyone in the Queen's Quarter.

"—Solve one problem at a time. That's how I do it," he lowered his sleeve. "Boss, drinks for everyone, on me."

At this point, Hilsbeth had already collapsed on the stage, and the boss still wanted her to sing one last song. You could see from his expression that he was also very embarrassed; he had to busy himself with clearing the body, replacing the broken tables, and Salvaney's round of drinks would obviously not compensate for the loss of future customers.

Hilsbeth didn't know how the song ended. She only felt that, at least to her ears, the sound of her heartbeat almost drowned out her voice.

After returning to the dressing room, she numbly began to remove her makeup, but it wasn't until more than ten seconds later that she realized why she was still wasting time doing this, and then picked up her belongings to leave.

The boss stopped her outside the door.

"What's up?" she said. "I'm going back."

"This... really bothers me. Don't leave yet, Salvaney wants to see you."

"...What?"

"No, not now. He's still drinking, asked me to let you know to wait. I don't know what he wants, and I won't ask him. I know what you're thinking... but I can't let you leave. Try to relax, I don't think there will be any big trouble, you haven't done anything to him... have you?"

Seeing Hilsbeth silent, the boss lowered his head and pulled out his wallet from his pocket.

"Looking back, I'm really a lousy employer. I said forget about the three days of singing, but I'll still pay you. Don't be upset, I'll give you the three days' wages now. How about I count it as four days for you? Just wait, let me count..."

The only thought in Hilsbeth' head was that it all happened too suddenly. This day came so quickly. Whether she could survive was already beyond consideration. Even if she emerged unscathed after seeing Salvaney, or even if he just wanted to give her a tip, it still meant the end of something for her. Whatever the outcome, it proved that he remembered her. How did Aretta become related to such a person, and then live to... no, she didn't even live until now.

She heard the sound of the purse hitting the ground, and then realized that the boss had also collapsed on the ground. Standing outside the door now was Panthonia; she had long forgotten to consider whether he was still staying in the hotel.

"Come with me," he said, but didn't extend his hand.