Darkstone Code-Chapter 868 - 866: Beauty and Destruction

The broker, just returning to her senses upon entering the store, shivered violently. She felt a hand wrap around her waist.

Damn it.

This eerie sensation made her shudder all over!

She wasn’t pretty; not exactly short, but she weighed over one hundred and fifty pounds and had a somewhat round face, inconsistent with the current Federation standards of beauty.

They preferred girls with wavy blonde hair, defined features, good figures, and relatively thin frames.

Everything about the broker was precisely opposite to the mainstream aesthetic ideal, which had led to her only having a brief, misdirected romance with another plump male classmate back in high school, never having found another boyfriend since.

Sometimes, in a state between dream and wakefulness, she would fantasize about her future partner, but every time she awoke from the dream, she’d sadly realize this wasn’t an easy matter.

Because she wasn’t attractive, high-quality men would not choose her, and the circles she interacted with, though not the upper echelon of the Federation, were at least mid to high level, and her expectations for a partner were very selective as well.

Ordinary people wouldn’t catch her eye, and that’s why she had remained single all these years.

Barring any accidents, it was very likely that she would spend her life alone, perhaps adopt one or two children when older, and join some new independent women’s organization, claiming to be an advocate of not marrying or having children.

Once aged, even upon the approach of death, she might regret never having had a real romance, a relationship, or children in her life.

Maybe...

But now, the girl hugging her waist gave her an indescribable feeling; her breathing was a bit rapid, but she didn’t dislike the feeling.

"Sorry... what did you... say?", she instinctively tried to move away.

Perhaps the salesperson also realized this wasn’t a "player," appearing a bit awkward, "Sorry, I might have been too enthusiastic."

The broker forced a smile, "I overreacted."

After a two-second silence, the salesperson continued, "What would you like to buy? We have everything here!"

At this point, the broker’s emotions were somewhat strange; she couldn’t quite say, as she looked around at the walls bathed in an ambiguous pink and purple light, various fluorescent devices making her face turn red and hot.

Those things, looking at them just once felt like they would blind her!

"I’m here to buy something for Penny!", she reminded herself, keeping her eyes fixed on those items.

"I want some things...", she suddenly didn’t know how to describe them, "You know, the kind that..."

She was embarrassed to say it aloud, never having used foul language before, and being asked to do so felt daunting.

Just like now, the broker had never encountered these things, and it was difficult for her to verbalize it.

The salesperson proactively offered assistance, "What role are you playing?"

She noticed this customer’s unusual state, combined with her attire and demeanor; having seen many people and things, the salesperson was slightly intrigued.

She placed her hand on the broker’s back again; this time, choosing a spot neither stimulating nor intense, the broker didn’t react much.

Physical contact provides a sense of security to both parties, which is one of the characteristics of social animals.

Especially in an unfamiliar, uneasy environment, such contact can soothe anxious emotions.

The broker’s lips moved, but she still couldn’t speak, the salesperson tentatively asked, "Priest?"

"Priest and nun are our best-selling themes, you know, some people always have peculiar ideas."

Seventy-five percent of the Federation’s population believes they’ll go to the Celestial Kingdom when they die, that there is a God, and that He listens when they pray.

This also boosts the hot sales of priest and nun themes in the adult realm; people’s thoughts are peculiar.

Sometimes the more beautiful things are, the more they want to destroy them.

The more sacred things are, the more they want to desecrate them.

The salesperson sized up the broker’s figure, thinking she might be taking on the role of a priest.

The broker, blushing, shook her head, damn, was there such a theme?

She felt increasingly awkward; to avoid this situation persisting, she braved it and said, "Bad girl!"

"Bad girl!" the salesperson laughed, "And the other part?"

Seeing that the broker seemed not genuinely knowledgeable, she continued introducing, "We have many bad girls, bad girls in school, bad girls in church, bad girls in the police station, bad girls in the park, and bad girls in the living room..."

"Which one do you want?"

The broker was astonished again, "Are... there so many?"

The salesperson quietly wrapped her arm around the broker’s waist again, and the broker noticed; by this time, she was not as sensitive as at the beginning, "Unimaginably many!"

The pride in her voice, a pride shared by every salesperson of the adult goods stores behind the financial district.

The lunatics on the financial street, who knows what plots they might imagine or what needs they might have, but whatever their requirements, they could be met here.

If there’s no stock, then a set can be handmade and mass-produced, just to fulfill the financial tycoons’ pursuit of pleasure.

The broker shook her head in confusion, "I don’t know, do you have any recommendations?"

"How old is your girl this year?"

The broker hesitated for a moment, "Twenty years old."

The legal adult age in the Federation is twenty, but one can marry at sixteen and legally have children at eighteen. Twenty is the age of adulthood in Gafura, a concept borrowed by the Federation without considering change.

The broker was unsure if these things suited Penny, so she falsely reported an age.

The store clerk seemed to see through the broker’s lie, her lips curling slightly beneath her mask, "Then choose the school outfit and the family outfit; these two are perfect for young girls."

The broker’s heartbeat intensified. She vaguely imagined how Penny and Lynch might proceed, and the surging emotions made her blush as though her face might bleed at any moment.

"Take these two sets, please wrap them tightly. I don’t want others to know what they are," the broker took out her checkbook, "How much?"

The store clerk was slightly surprised; rarely does anyone buy an entire set, since some items are common in every household.

Like high school uniforms, most young girls have one or two sets.

Also, the round-toed leather shoes required at church schools; people have them, no need to buy new ones.

Moreover, each set contains props that overlap with those in other themes, no need for duplicate purchases.

Those really experienced players spend the least money and can assemble various props themselves.

But the broker wanted the whole set, which meant a big business deal.

While packing the items, the clerk said, "Three thousand two hundred bucks, sweetheart."

The broker was about to fill in the amount when she suddenly said, "Also, throw in a set of priest and nun costumes."

The clerk almost burst into laughter; four thousand eight hundred bucks meant a commission of almost three hundred bucks, enough for two months of base salary!

Working in such a place isn’t easy; maintaining stable clientele sometimes requires playing a role or two.

Without effort, there are plenty willing to exert themselves; why would clients choose to shop here?

Which further enlightens people on a truth—

Money is hard to earn.

Shit is hard to eat.

Cannon fire is hard to withstand.

Four thousand eight hundred bucks, the broker quickly signed a transfer check, and the clerk validated the check’s security before placing all items onto a small cart.

There weren’t few items, totaling three big boxes, roughly two meters long, fifty centimeters wide, and nearly eighty centimeters deep.

Inside were various toys, props, and clothing.

The broker initially thought there’d be only a small amount of stuff, but she hadn’t expected so much!

The clerk, having received a commission, was rather delighted, "Do you need home delivery?"

Her tone carried hints of probing and temptation, not minding to play a role sometimes.

The broker shook her head, "Just help me deliver to the street corner..."

Though a bit disappointed, the clerk didn’t insist. Just as the broker was about to leave, she suddenly grabbed the broker, "Sweetheart, can I have a phone number?"

She embraced the broker tightly, and after the recent interaction, the broker’s response wasn’t as intense.

"I... don’t know."

The clerk moved forward a step, "Or perhaps I give you my number?"

Eventually, the clerk didn’t obtain the broker’s number, but she successfully handed hers to the broker.

The broker, hurriedly leaving the shop, couldn’t cease her racing heart, feeling an intense stimulation she hadn’t experienced before.

Soon after, the company’s prop truck arrived, and the driver and staff loaded the goods onto the truck, taking the broker along.

Watching the truck depart, the clerk noted the license plate number from afar.

The broker, casually laying out a four thousand eight hundred buck transfer check, left her quite tempted; not aiming for immense wealth but surely improving her life wouldn’t be a problem?

Whoever plays is play, why not choose one who offers the most?

Sitting in the car, the broker gazed out the window, her mind occupied with recent happenings; lacking experience in such scenes, feeling a bit bewildered.

Looking back now, she suddenly felt silly and foolish.

Yet for some reason, she thought of the clerk again.

She hadn’t seen her appearance or understood her personality, but inexplicably felt a bit attracted.

Ultimately, her heart is too lonely.

She thought so.

Perhaps when available, she could ask her out for a drink?