“Laras! Laras!” Anita called, one of the third-tier entertainers who had recently joined, just like Laras.
Laras opened her eyes reluctantly. Her second night had been exhausting, to say the least. She’d had to keep Arya company while he slept off his drunkenness, and he refused to let go of her hand until dawn, when the rising sun signaled that the entertainment district had closed.
“What is it, Anita?” Laras asked gently.
The girl with twin braids hurried over to Laras’s bed, forcing Laras to shift over slightly.
“That handsome man who called your name earlier—was he your boyfriend?” Anita asked loudly enough that the other two occupants of the room turned to look at Laras.
While they were third-tier entertainers, the girls were housed in Dorm Three, with four people to a room. Once they became second-tier entertainers, they would share rooms with only one other person, while first-tier entertainers were given private rooms.
Laras’s dorm room was occupied by two new entertainers, Laras and Anita, and two who had been there considerably longer, Arumi and Adinda.
“I’m curious too. Wasn’t he handsome? He looked rich, too,” Adinda said as she walked toward Laras’s bed, followed by Arumi.
Laras looked at her three new friends. Unwilling to cause a misunderstanding that might become troublesome later, she chose to shake her head. “No. He was just a guest who wanted to be entertained.” Laras answered and immediately covered herself with the blanket, ignoring her three friends’ dissatisfied comments about her answer.
The following night finally arrived. Laras was back to being a third-tier entertainer with a silver tray. Unlike the previous night, Arya was nowhere to be seen by the time the first music began.
Is he all right? Laras wondered, remembering their last conversation.
Laras served drinks and snacks as usual. Perhaps because of what had happened the previous night, when Arya had loudly called her name, not a single guest bothered her or asked her to keep him company.
Two tables away from where Laras stood, a man looked listless, his gaze suggesting no interest in the entertainers performing before him. Without any particular intention, Laras approached him.
“Good evening, sir. Is there anything you need?” Laras asked with her usual sweet smile.
The man looked startled by Laras’s arrival. Perhaps his reason was the same as that of the other guests, who were reluctant to bother the girl.
“Uh... ah, no, that won’t be necessary,” he replied, somewhat flustered.
Laras simply smiled. She then poured a drink into the man’s glass.
“All right. I hope you can get through each day a little more easily. Don’t hesitate to talk to someone else... or to any object at all.”
Laras was about to stand, but the man’s hand caught her wrist first.
“What do you mean by any object?” he asked, looking puzzled.
Laras turned toward him.
“Well, if you’re not comfortable talking to people, you can talk to an object or an animal you like.”
The man chuckled softly.
“I’ll look like a crazy person.”
“Yes, you will.” Laras nodded innocently. “People who see you might think so.”
“And you’re still suggesting I do it?”
“Of course.” Laras smiled again. “Keeping something bottled up while it fills your head over and over will only turn it into a ticking time bomb.”
“A ticking time bomb?” the man repeated.
“Yes. One day, you might explode.”
“Maybe I really will explode.”
Laras giggled.
“Hopefully outside. At least then, whatever you’ve been keeping inside can come out.”
“And what if I explode inside?”
Laras’s smile disappeared for a moment.
“Now... that’s dangerous. You could get hurt without anyone knowing.”
The man stared at Laras for a moment, then smiled awkwardly.
“Miss, don’t you think that metaphor is a little harsh?”
“I’m just trying to explain it in a way that’s easy to understand.”
Laras pulled out a chair and sat across from him.
“For example, imagine a small child locked inside a room. Some adults might immediately break down the door, take the child out, and comfort them.
“But others might choose to sit in front of the door. They might invite the child to talk, tell stories, or simply keep reminding them that someone is out there with them, while looking for a way to open the door.”
The man frowned.
“Do you think I’m like a little child locked in a room?” he asked.
Laras slowly shook her head. “No. I’m just looking for a metaphor that won’t give you an even bigger headache.”
“And you think I don’t have a headache?”
“Not exactly.” Laras smiled. “Your face already answers that question.”
The man chuckled, though his eyes still held a trace of exhaustion.
“Then what do you think I should do?”
Laras shrugged. “Find someone.”
“Someone?”
“Someone you like. It doesn’t have to be someone who can give you the answer to your problems.”
“Then what good would they be?”
“To sit beside you.”
The man fell silent.
“Sometimes,” Laras continued, “we don’t need someone who can fix the door. We only need someone willing to sit in front of it until we’re brave enough to open it.”
“You speak as if you’ve experienced it yourself.”
Laras smiled faintly. “I read a lot of books.”
“That’s all?”
“And I eavesdrop a little.”
The man laughed.
Laras laughed along, then her gaze fell on a small object hanging from the man’s waist. It was a simple wooden pendant carved with a small flower on its surface.
“Oh, that’s lovely.”
The man followed Laras’s gaze. “This?”
“Yes. I thought it was just decoration.”
His hand instinctively touched the pendant.
“It isn’t. Someone gave it to me.”
“Someone you care about?”
The man smiled faintly. “My younger sister.”
“Wow.” Laras’s eyes lit up. “Your sister must be good at crafts.”
“She made it herself.”
“No wonder you keep carrying it around.”
“I’ve had it with me for years.”
Laras nodded repeatedly, then picked up the pitcher and poured more into his glass.
“Does your sister live with you?”
“No. She lives far from here.”
“Far?”
“In the eastern region.”
Laras paused in the middle of pouring.
“The eastern region...” she murmured. “Isn’t that area famous for its clove plantations?”
The man nodded. “That’s right.”
“Then your family must have a lot of cloves.”
“Quite a lot.”
“Quite a lot...” Laras tilted her head. “Enough to fill a warehouse?”
The man laughed. “More than one.”
Laras laughed softly as well, but secretly kept her eyes on the man’s face.
“Then you must be happy when harvest season arrives.”
The man’s smile slowly faded.
“I should be.”
Laras didn’t ask right away. She merely pushed his glass toward him.
“You should be?”
The man sighed.
“This year’s harvest was quite large. Even larger than last year’s. But for some reason... the income never seems proportional.”
Laras looked at him.
“Not proportional?”
“Forget it. It’s not something I should be discussing here.”
Laras smiled sweetly.
“All right.”
She didn’t ask anything else.
But in her mind, she had just stored away something new.
The eastern region. Cloves. A larger harvest. Disproportionate income.
Laras looked at the glass before her with a small smile. “Don’t keep it all bottled up, sir. Talk it over with someone you trust. Remember this, sir: you’re only human. Humans have limits. That’s what other people are for.” Laras finished by offering the man another drink.
Laras continued slowly turning the nearly empty glass. The man in front of her had already passed out. It was time to move on to the next guest. Most of the guests who had arrived when the first music began had already made appointments with second-tier entertainers, while the newly arrived guests merely sat and waited in line for a chance to be with one.
“Good evening, sir. You look quite tired tonight,” Laras said, greeting a newly arrived man whose clothes looked disheveled.
The man had blond hair, blue eyes, and a pungent spice scent about him. It was obvious that he was an outsider who had come to trade spices.
“Evening,” the foreign man replied in an accent resembling that of the white people from Laras’s original world.
Laras poured him a drink and arranged the snacks she had brought on his table. Feeling uncomfortable around this foreign guest, Laras quickly rose to her feet.
“Get some rest, sir, and take care of your valuable health,” Laras said, receiving only a nod from the man before her. As Laras walked away, her eyes caught sight of a wooden pendant with a small flower carved into its surface hanging around the outsider’s neck when he removed his vest.
What an unsettling coincidence, Laras thought as she walked away.
Laras visited each occupied table in her section as new guests arrived. Her mind was full of questions, but she continued to wear a friendly expression and her sweet smile.
Bang! The sound of a door being slammed hard drew everyone’s attention, including Laras’s.
Arya. Laras thought. Arya entered the entertainment district in a hurry, panting heavily and wearing disheveled clothes. He immediately locked eyes with Laras, as if she were the only person he had been looking for.
“Laras, calm down our new guest,” Intan said as she approached Laras to deliver the message.
“Yes, Miss Intan. I’ll tie him to the table,” Laras replied, unable to make sense of her special guest’s behavior.
“Good evening, Mr. Arya. How are you? Fortunately, the night is beautiful and filled with stars, enough to conceal a few acts of poor etiquette,” Laras said with a sweet smile.
Arya looked at Laras for a moment, then smiled. “Your voice is truly as sweet as you are, beautiful miss,” Arya replied, returning Laras’s subtle jab.
Laras only smiled and tilted her head slightly.
“Come along, sir. I’ll escort you to your lovely seat,” Laras said, leading him toward an empty table.
“Since when did you become a hostess?” Arya asked as he sat at the table Laras had indicated.
“Since a few minutes ago, when a certain guest made such a scene slamming open the door,” Laras replied curtly.
Laras sat down immediately after taking the silver tray, arranging the snacks, and pouring a drink into Arya’s glass.
“I don’t remember asking you to keep me company,” Arya said, though he accepted the drink Laras offered him.
“Just be quiet. I’ve been tired from serving guests all night,” Laras said as she poured another drink into Arya’s empty glass and handed it to him.
“Uh...” Arya let out an involuntary sound at Laras’s words.
Laras looked at Arya, then smiled mischievously. “What’s with that reaction? Did you think you were my only guest, Your Grace Arya?” Laras asked, and Arya merely stared at her with a displeased frown.