Another damn evening like this.

I'm sitting in the corner of "Kappo Hiroshi," this izakaya is falling apart, but the alcohol is cheap, and the owner doesn't put on that fake enthusiasm in front of you. Today's draft beer is warm again, and I'm too lazy to complain about it anyway, since complaining wouldn't make any difference.


I open my laptop, and the familiar 2ch interface appears on the screen. I click on the "Love & H" section, and the sound of my fingers typing on the keyboard seems somewhat jarring in the noisy izakaya. In the title bar, I type: "[Breaking] Tonight I'm planning to raid a newly opened super cheap soapland w"

I always get inexplicably excited when posting, as if I'm about to do something impressive. Actually, I know I'm nothing, just a 43-year-old deputy manager, not even a proper manager. But online, I can pretend to be someone impressive.

At the beginning of the post, I start typing:


"Everyone, today I was annoyed again by those presumptuous youngsters. What's with the young employees in the company these days? Coming late to work, playing with phones during meetings, submitting project proposals that read like elementary school essays. As the acting department manager, they don't listen to anything I say, and behind my back they call me 'old-fashioned' and 'out of touch with the times'."

I paused to take a sip of beer, then continued typing:


"Not to mention my ice-cold wife at home. When I get home, not even a single 'you've worked hard today,' she just knows how to scroll through her Instagram looking at photos of young female celebrities. My daughter is even worse. Yesterday when I tried to help check her homework, she actually said 'Dad, you don't understand.' That little sixteen-year-old girl, what does she understand? When I was her age, I was already working and earning money for my family."

"In today's society, it's just unfriendly to middle-aged men like us who work diligently. When we were young, we were required to work overtime, supposedly for future promotions. And now? The company has hired a batch of graduates from prestigious universities, with better English than mine, more computer skills than mine, and the boss treats them like treasures. Me, an employee who has worked for twenty years, still just an acting manager."

As I typed these words, I felt the frustration in my chest dissipate a little. This is the benefit of the internet - you can pour out all your dissatisfaction, and people will respond to you.

Sure enough, replies came quickly:

"ID:Anonymous Another wage slave's lament w"
"ID:NightShiftWard Hang in there, Deputy Manager, at least you have the word 'Deputy'"
"ID:UnemployedVirgin How old is OP? Sounds like a forty-something complainer"
"ID:OvertimeWarrior I understand, today's young people really can't compare, our generation had it too hard"

Seeing that someone understood me, my mood improved a bit. I opened my bookmarks and found the link I had saved yesterday. It was a promotional page for a newly opened "fuzoku" (adult entertainment) establishment. The page design was crude, but the prices were ridiculously cheap.

I took a screenshot and posted it in the thread:

"Alright, enough about those troubles. Check this out, a newly opened place with suspiciously cheap prices. Usually those high-end establishments easily charge 50,000 or 80,000 yen, but this one only asks for 18,000 yen. Though it looks a bit sketchy, it's wallet-friendly. What do you all think? Any brothers who've had bad experiences that could give some advice?"

At that moment, the music in the izakaya changed to some old-fashioned enka, and the middle-aged men at the next table started loudly discussing baseball. I turned down the volume on my computer and focused on the constantly refreshing replies on the screen.

"ID:風俗マニア Wow, that price is indeed cheap. But there's no such thing as a free lunch, be careful it might be a scam"
"ID:Nightlife Expert I've been to similar cheap establishments, the environment is average, but the value for money is decent"
"ID:Anonymous OP, are you trying to be cannon fodder? Haha"
"ID:Soapland Connoisseur Wait, I saw this establishment's roster, there's a newcomer called 'Nora', heard she's pretty good"

My attention was immediately drawn to the name "Nora". Clicking into that ID's homepage, I discovered it was a veteran user who frequently posted in the adult services section, and their reviews were generally reliable.

"ID:Soapland Connoisseur This Nora was tried by my friend, who said she looks as delicate as a doll, and is absolutely obedient in her service. Prices are even cheaper during her newcomer period, so if OP is going, I recommend requesting her"

Absolutely obedient?

These four words shot through my nerves like an electric current. When had I ever experienced being "absolutely obeyed" by anyone? At work, I'm disregarded by my younger subordinates; at home, I'm neglected by my wife and daughter. Just imagine a delicate girl showing me complete respect, following my every wish—what a wonderful feeling that would be.

I took another big gulp of beer, feeling my cheeks grow warm. Whether from the alcohol or excitement, my typing speed increased:

"ID:Melancholy Deputy Director Oh, Nora, right? Sounds good. The phrase 'absolute obedience' really hits home. As a deputy director at my company, none of the youngsters under me follow orders, and at home my wife and daughter don't give me any respect either. It's nice to have a place where I can experience being respected for once, hahaha."

"ID:Soapland Expert OP is going to go? Remember to post a review!"
"ID:Night Shift Ward Is the Deputy Director finally going to make his move?w"
"ID:Anonymous Looking forward to future developments"

Looking at these replies, I felt a long-absent sense of existence. On the internet, I could be a man about to "rise up," not the middle-aged loser everyone ignored in real life.

I glanced at my watch; it was almost eight o'clock. My wife was at her yoga class today, my daughter was in her room listening to music while doing homework, and no one at home was waiting for me. This was the perfect opportunity.

So I replied to the post: "Good! Let this department head go verify it personally! I'll go tonight and post a detailed experience report tomorrow. Everyone wait for the good news!"

The moment I sent that reply, I felt like I'd made some remarkable decision. Actually, I was still a bit nervous, since I hadn't been to such places for a long time. The last time was three years ago when I went to a legitimate establishment with colleagues from my department, spent nearly 50,000 yen, and had a decent experience, but my wallet took a major hit.

I closed my laptop and called the owner to settle the bill.

"Thank you for your patronage," the owner said without looking up, his voice carrying that distinctive weariness of izakaya proprietors.

Walking out of the izakaya, the air outside was a bit chilly, but I felt a kind of inexplicable excitement burning within me. Neon lights flickered on the streets, and office workers hurried to catch the last train. I, however, had a different destination.

According to the address on the website, the establishment was located in a multi-tenant building near the east exit of Shinjuku. I boarded the train and checked my phone in the crowded carriage, reconfirming the information about the establishment. The website design was indeed crude, and the photos weren't very clear, but the price list was detailed. Nora was listed under the "Recommended Newcomers" section, with "Gentle and caring, recommended for first experiences" written next to her.

When the train arrived at the station, my heart began to race. Leaving the station, I followed the navigation to find the building. It was somewhat old, with various small advertisements plastered all over the exterior walls. I took the elevator to the seventh floor, where the hallway was dimly lit and several signs for different establishments were posted on the walls.

"Twilight Haven," that's the name. It sounds like one of those low-end entertainment establishments that would be mocked on late-night variety shows. But right now I can't be too picky—it's cheap, so giving it a try wouldn't hurt.

I pushed open the glass door and walked in.

The interior decor was better than I expected, at least the floor was clean. At the reception desk sat a man in his thirties, wearing a suit but with his tie hanging loosely, watching television. Hearing the door chime, he looked up at me, his expression unchanging.

"Welcome," he said flatly, just like a 7-11 clerk. "First time here?"

"Yes," I cleared my throat, "I'd like to request Nora."

He flipped through the register on the desk, "Nora is available now. New customer price, fifteen thousand yen for ninety minutes, is that acceptable?"

Even cheaper than the price listed online! I could hardly believe my ears. "No problem."

I took cash out of my wallet and handed it to him. He wrote a receipt, then took a room key from the drawer.

"Please follow me," he stood up and led me down a narrow corridor. On both sides of the corridor were doors, each with a girl's name written on it: Bella, Amelia, Elina... Finally, we stopped in front of a door.

The nameplate read "Nora" in handwritten characters that looked somewhat childish.

"Nora, a guest is here," the receptionist knocked on the door, then said to me: "Please go in, she's ready for you."

I took a deep breath and gripped the doorknob. My heart was racing with both anticipation and nervousness. In that moment, I imagined what kind of girl would be behind the door. Online reviews said she was as delicate as a doll, completely obedient in her service. For me right now, this was absolutely the best remedy.

At work, I have to listen to complaints and dismissal from young subordinates. At home, I have to endure my wife's indifference and my daughter's disdain. But in this room, finally, there's someone who will completely obey me, respect me, and let me feel the dignity of being a man.

At least for the next ninety minutes, I will be a man who is needed, obeyed, and respected.

I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

The room was cleaner than I had imagined. Though simply decorated, the sheets were white, and there was a faint scent of incense in the air. A girl was sitting by the bed, her silhouette slender, long hair falling over her shoulders. Hearing the door open, she slowly turned around.

I was stunned.

She was indeed as delicate as a doll. Her skin was so fair without a single flaw, her features so exquisite as if carved by an artist. But what shocked me most were her eyes—those eyes were so empty, without a trace of emotion, as if they truly were the glass eyes of a doll.

"Welcome," her voice was soft and gentle, but lacked vitality. "I am Nora, please take care of me tonight."

She stood up and bowed deeply to me. Her movements were as precise as a machine.

I walked into the room and closed the door. The sounds from the corridor outside were immediately blocked out, leaving just the two of us in the room. She maintained her bowing posture, waiting for my instructions.

"Please... please sit down," I stammered. This was somewhat different from what I had imagined. I had expected more interaction, more natural conversation, but she was like a program waiting for commands.

"Alright," she sat back down on the edge of the bed, placing her hands on her knees with her back very straight. "What kind of service would you like?"

Her question made me feel embarrassed. I could be very bold when boasting online, but when actually facing this situation, I didn't know what to say.

"Well... let's just follow the normal procedure," I sat on the chair, keeping a certain distance from her. "How long have you... been working here?"

"Today is my third day," she answered directly. "You are the fifth client I've received."

The fifth client. This information gave me mixed feelings. On one hand, I was excited to experience a "fresh" service; on the other hand, her inexperience made me a bit uneasy.

"So... what did you do before this job?" I tried to create some casual conversation.

"I don't remember," her answer surprised me. "I only remember my current job."

Don't remember? What kind of answer was that? I looked at her face, and those empty eyes sent a chill down my spine. But her features were indeed so exquisite that I couldn't look away, that kind of unreal perfection reminded me of mannequins in high-end department stores.

"Well then... let's begin," I stood up and started unbuttoning my shirt.

"Alright, please rinse off first," she pointed to the shower in the corner of the room. "I will be ready waiting for you."

I nodded and walked toward the shower. Under the warm water, I tried to relax myself. This is exactly what I wanted—a woman who completely obeys me, doesn't argue with me, doesn't ignore me. Although she was quiet, wasn't that perfect? I don't need to hear more complaints and criticism; I just need to feel respected.

After finishing my shower, I walked out with a towel wrapped around me. Nora had changed into a thin robe and was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. She stood up and walked toward me.

"Please let me serve you," she said, and began to dry my body.

Her movements were gentle and professional, but lacked warmth. It was like a precisely designed robot executing a program. I closed my eyes, trying to enjoy the feeling of being taken care of, but there was an indescribable sense of dissonance in my heart.

Is this really what I wanted?