William’s Club of Beauties, founded in 1864, is visited only by men of the highest prestige. It is an underground facility that only the wealthiest men can enter, designed as a place of serenity, of freedom. The freedom to act, the freedom to release, the freedom to hurt.
In this club, women and girls are bought and passed around, disposable items easily replaced by women bought from outside sources or through an underground trading market. You buy a woman, you use her, you break her, and then you move on to the next. It has been visited by almost every man who has held power, and it will continue to succeed for years to come.
Diana, a sixteen-year-old Indian girl, was being transported in a truck with various other women and girls of numerous ages. They were bound in chains, blindfolded, and their lips were shut tight with metal wires.
Although they bore scars, some minor and some deep, they were clean, properly showered and washed, like vegetables. Clean girls meant a higher value, and untouched newcomers were considered top tier.
The metal doors flew open, bright rays of sunlight warming their open wounds. “All right, let’s move!” a raspy voice said. The man reeked of cigarettes and promptly broke into a coughing fit after he spoke.
A group of men entered the truck and undid their chains. Grabbing the women by the arms, they lined them up in single file and led them into the clubhouse. They walked for a long time, hearing praise from the men they passed.
After a while, Diana was violently thrown into a cell; the same was done to the other women. A man crouched over her, scissors in hand. He cut the wires that had pierced her lips and pulled them free. He then removed her blindfold, allowing her to see the wicked smile plastered across his face.
“There we go…” he said, smiling. “We can’t have you like that forever, you know? They like pretty eyes like yours.” He patted her on the shoulder, then left her cell and locked it behind him. Her cell reeked of blood and something sour, its floor visibly stained.
She had nearly begun to cry, but the others at the camp had told her that crying was dangerous. It made you ugly. You had to smile, your eyes wide and your mouth even wider, no matter what had happened. Crying was dangerous; crying was ugly. A willing and happy smile was much better.
After a short while, he came back with a group of other men wielding branding irons. He opened her cell, still smiling. “Here you are.” He waved the hot iron in her face, the numbers ‘091’ glowing with intense heat. “This is you from now on.” His face hardened into seriousness. “Don’t forget it.”
He pressed it against her arm. She wanted to scream; she wanted to kick him away, but defiance was ugly. Instead, she smiled. She smiled a great, wide smile, her teeth grinding against each other. Her vision became glassy, but she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t let a tear fall while he was there.
“All right, 091,” he said, returning to his wide smile. “You’re so beautiful. I’m sure we’ll get you a client in no time.” He rubbed her branded arm, almost as a way of provoking her. “Wondafol…”
“Wondafol…” she said, still smiling.
He left, whistling a satisfied tune. She silently grimaced, rubbing her hand over the imprint of numbers that had not been there before. They read ‘091.’ She repeated them over and over, replacing her own name with them. Being defiant was ugly; being submissive was far more attractive.
Time passed. The metal door leading to the cells opened, and three men entered the room. Two wore black suits, with pudgy faces and glistening eyes. “Whoa… Look at all the new stock…” one of them said. The third man, dressed in a contrasting white suit and a masquerade mask, chuckled. “We bought them only yesterday afternoon, and look how pretty they are!”
The girls were indeed pretty. They had been cut, sliced, scratched, and stabbed so that they could be the prettiest they could be. 091 smiled as the men walked past her cell, not wanting to look ugly.
“You should’ve told me that you had new ones! There are definitely a few I want to try out…” one of the pudgy men said, eyeing the women. “It’s not his fault. You’re the one who wanted to stick with your regular!” the other laughed.
“Well, here you gentlemen are…” the man in white said, unlocking two nearby cells at once. “Please, enjoy.”
091 listened as the men entered the neighboring cells, a smile still plastered on her face. She listened to the assaults, the blows, and the men calling the women by their “names.” The girls did not let out a single wail. Instead, with quivering voices, they obeyed whatever was demanded of them. It was a long while before the men were finally done, both sighing with satisfaction.
The man in white promptly returned. “Did you enjoy yourselves, gentlemen?”
“Sure did!” one of them said, laughing. “Mine was so frail, it looked as though I was punching clay! You can practically see the imprints!”
“See, see?” the man in white said, laughing along with him. “Our women are the best in the world! We haven’t been operating for nearly two centuries for nothing!”
They laughed together—great, hearty laughs filled with joy and amusement. 091 smiled. She smiled at the laughing men, as all the other women did. But then something happened that caused the men to stop laughing and the women to stop smiling.
It was the sound of a woman crying. The room fell silent, with only her wails echoing throughout it.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” the man in white said. “I’m so sorry, gentlemen. We’ll give you both another set of women, on the house. Please wait outside for a moment.”
The other men left, excusing such misconduct and remaining pleased with the service. The man in white approached the woman’s cell, watching with a disgusted frown as she cried and cried. “A shame that someone so pretty could be so disappointing,” he told her. He withdrew a gun from his waistband and shot her; the reverberating sound quickly replaced her wails.
After the crying stopped, all the women went back to smiling. Their chests tightened. They felt their hearts sink, and yet they smiled. It wasn’t uncommon for a girl to break.
“Ladies, that was an example of a defect,” he said to all of them, his hands clasped together. “As you might expect, we don’t like defects. Nobody likes defects.”
He walked toward the exit, the corner of his mouth visible to every woman who could see it. He was smiling, as they were. Smiles were beautiful; defiance was ugly. It was a rule embedded in the organization since its birth, a powerful rule with punishments for those who disobeyed.
Time passed, and later another man entered the room, also dressed in black. 091 had observed that black-dressed men were probably patrons and that white-dressed men with masks probably served as staff.
The masquerade man followed behind him, humming the slightest tune. “Here we are!” he exclaimed. “Our new stock!”
The patron turned his head toward the cell of the punished girl. “Already?” he chuckled. “Such a shame. She looks quite cute, too.”
“Don’t worry!” the masquerade man apologized. “By tonight, we’ll have all of them in tip-top shape. For the moment, please, take your pick.”
He scanned the room, eyeing all the women with a grin. Finally, his eyes landed on 091, and he grabbed the railing of her cell, his gaze fixed on hers.
“…Where did you get her?” he asked, seemingly lovestruck. “She’s… beautiful…”
The masquerade man chuckled, jingling his keys. “Indeed. Pretty gray eyes and clean scars. But do you want to know the real selling point?”
The patron quickly turned to him, his eyes wide and full of hope. “D-Don’t tell me…” he mumbled.
“Yup!” he exclaimed. “She’s new to the club—untouched by any patron. Beautiful and clean, inside and out. We paid a great deal for her, but I assure you she was worth it!”
The patron began to breathe heavily, turning his attention back to 091. He looked her over with proprietary hunger, his intent plain. She smiled, wanting to appeal to him more. In truth, her entire core shuddered. Her eyes once again became glossy, anticipating the pain she would have to endure.
“I want her,” he said, shuddering. “I don’t care how much it costs.”
That was all the staff member needed to hear. He happily clicked open the cell. “Then please…” he said invitingly. “Enjoy.”
He slowly approached her, studying her scars and frail body as if they were merchandise. “Y-You’re perfect…” he said. “You’re perfect!”
Not wanting to delay any longer, he leaped toward her and grabbed her by the neck. He squeezed until she could barely breathe. He stared deeply into her eyes, gazing at his own reflection.
He forced her to the floor. What followed was swift, brutal, and meant to teach her that her body no longer belonged to her. Through it, she smiled. She smiled so hard that her teeth felt as though they would crack.
He struck, twisted, and slammed her whenever her body failed to obey him. She did nothing but smile. At one point, she smiled so hard that one of her teeth cracked.
It was a long time before he finished having his fun, and the masquerade man promptly returned. He saw the condition 091 had been left in and smiled. He was satisfied that his patron had used their purchase to the fullest.
“How was she?” he asked, seeming already to know the answer. The pudgy man smiled, a smile full of teeth and satisfaction. “Excellent. I hope to see her again soon!”
The patron left, and the man in white closed and locked her cell. He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a large plate filled with loaves of bread, apples, and bottles of water.
“Eat up!” he said gleefully, tossing the girls their portions through the metal bars. “Training begins in an hour!”
He glanced at 091 and considered the possibility that the assault had left her pregnant. It had been a worthy purchase. The club had a procedure for such outcomes: if a woman remained popular, the pregnancy would be ended; if not, she would be kept alive long enough to give birth. A boy would be discarded. A girl would be kept and raised within the club, entering its service at the age of nine.
091 picked up a piece of bread and gazed at it. Her eyes became glossy, but not one tear had yet fallen. Her lip and wrist were sore. She ate slowly, sometimes dropping the bread whenever the pain suddenly became too overwhelming.
“Good evening, ladies!” a loud voice boomed throughout the room. Its reverberation roused the exhausted 091, and she quickly straightened her posture. “It’s time for training!”
He walked around the room, eyeing all the girls. “You are all truly beautiful. I’m sure you know that. But we can make you even more so,” he said, smiling. “All we need is a little time. That’s all.”
091 noticed that he wore a deep red suit and a contrasting orange masquerade mask, different from the other staff she would have to become used to. She assumed that the colors of their suits assigned them specific roles, something vaguely discussed at the training camp.
In his left hand, he held a whip, its leather blatantly stained with blood. One by one, he unlocked the cells, none of the girls daring to move an inch without his permission. When he reached 091’s cell, she could inspect the horrifying whip up close. It was slim. Slim and long, barbed with small wires. The initials “WCB” were printed near its handle.
“One by one, in the order I unlocked you, follow me,” he said, caressing his whip. “And please, don’t try anything… disorderly. For my sake. It would ruin the beautiful image I have of you.”
Following his command, they slowly lined up behind him, 091 seventh in line. They followed him past the main room, which reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, and continued into a passage secured by a locked door.
The passage was dark and carried a strange smell nobody could identify. As they followed him deeper, the faint sound of classical music could be heard, and comforting colors—purple, pink, and white—shimmered at the end of the tunnel.
At the end of the passage, they stepped down a small set of stairs and finally reached the training room, where various other groups waited patiently. It was absurdly large, filled with poles, chairs, tables, beds, and platforms, all stained with blood and other discolored substances.
“There you are, Jeremy!” one of the other red-suited men exclaimed. “I was so anxious to get started!”
Jeremy, who seemed to be 091’s training manager, chuckled softly. “I was simply gathering my supplies. I dared not miss admission, but I was in a bit of a rush. I wouldn’t dare miss the bell!”
The room filled with concurring laughter from the men, all of them understanding why he would be in such a hurry. Indeed, the bell was the most invigorating thing in the world. The excitement that poured into their hearts when they heard it was nearly incomparable to anything else.
The men anxiously watched the seconds tick down on the clock hanging from the wall. 091 gave it a quick glance. 11:59:45, she calculated. Mere seconds before midnight.
Tick, tick, tick… The teasing sound echoed in the room. The men, as well as the women, silently shuffled as they stood, waiting for the clock to strike twelve.
Finally—oh, how finally—it struck midnight! The bell rang with such force that it seemed to bounce inside their heads. The radiance of the lights intensified, and the volume of the classical music rose. From various directions, more and more men slowly filled the room, all holding bloodied whips.
Brief, excited laughter escaped their mouths, and they quickly took their places. Each man seemed to be assigned to a girl, taking her by the arm and bringing her to a station. 091 was taken by a tall, light-skinned man with a noticeably strong grip.
With a smile on her face, she was directed to a table. Its surface bore signs of repeated lashing. For the slightest moment, 091 winced, but she quickly put on a different expression. Once more, beautiful.
“Undress, if you may…” he told her, holding the whip firmly. Under its threat, 091 obeyed. He inspected the wounds and bruises scattered across her body, denying her even the dignity of privacy.
“…Beautiful…” he said, giving her a toothy grin. “Truly…”
He ordered her into the middle of the table, legs crossed and back upright. She obeyed, a soft, unwavering smile plastered across her face.
“On the upper floors, we occasionally showcase you all by providing our loyal patrons with dances and other performances,” he explained, reaching out to caress her hair. “It is our job to make sure that you can show them how beautiful you are.”
“Of course, we have no time to waste. Every girl here is given three chances to correct any mistake she makes during training. If we have to provide you with a fourth lash, then… that is considered… poor.”
091’s smile grew larger. She pressed her teeth against one another and was reminded of the intense pain of her broken tooth. She understood perfectly what he meant. Poor is below average. Poor is unacceptable. Poor is ugly.
Slowly and in great detail, he began to instruct her through a series of acrobatic poses and turns. First, she was ordered into a handstand. She managed it with moderate skill, but it was clear she would not keep her balance for long.
“Now turn, hold the pose, and repeat the movement every five seconds.”
The movement was foreign to her. Slowly and with great difficulty, she tried to steady her wobbling body. The whip cut diagonally across her, and she fell onto the table. She screamed as warmth escaped from the wound, but she did not dare cry.
“Not bad. But we can’t move at such a snail’s pace. Try again.”
She thought it unreasonable for him to expect her to perform better after an injury. Nonetheless, she tried again, the sharp memory of another lashing fueling her determination. This time, she still moved awkwardly and strained herself, but she performed better. She followed his instructions over and over until she could complete the routine with moderate precision. She felt her wounds slowly reopen, the sharp pain causing her to grind her teeth as she smiled. She did not receive another lashing.
“Nice work!” he complimented her. “With a bit of practice, you should be a real pleaser! Please, allow yourself a short break.”
She slowly lowered herself onto the table, not wanting her wounds to open too far. He allowed her to sit for approximately fifteen seconds before ordering her into another routine.
She obeyed, this time with enough skill to avoid another lashing. As she moved, she noticed a child no older than ten sitting awkwardly on one of the beds. To avoid attracting her trainer’s attention, 091 let her vision blur and stared into empty space. Whenever the opportunity arose, she tried to focus on the girl without turning her eyes directly toward her.
The girl’s trainer spoke to her, and she gave him a small nod, seeming to understand.
With intense discomfort, the girl slowly arranged herself across the bed as instructed, forced into a degrading position no child should have had to endure. She looked away in shame, trying to convince herself that what was happening was not real. Or perhaps she was simply trying to endure it, escaping somewhere inside herself. 091 could not truly tell.
A light smirk spread across her trainer’s face, and he opened his mouth to instruct her again.
At first, she did not move. She merely looked away in shame. Such behavior was not tolerated, and she was quickly whipped and harshly scolded. The young girl cried out, her scream one of many in the large room, but like the other trainers, this one did not seem to mind. All that mattered was that they learned their lesson.
For the slightest moment, she looked at the long lash across her torso. Like 091’s, the wound had begun to bleed. She sniffled, but she did not dare cry. 091 wondered why the girls feared death. This included her. Maybe it was because of the loving memories they still kept. Maybe it was the slightest hope that an angel would come from above, saving them all from this hell and letting them wander up the stairway to heaven.
Or maybe they wanted to end their suffering with their own hands, to feel as though they controlled their lives once more.
Of course, many of the ladies were unaware of the latter. This included 091.
The young girl, fearing another lashing, forced herself into the humiliating poses she had been shown. 091 took the slightest moment to observe the rest of the room. The younger girls were assigned degrading poses and gestures, while the older ones were made to dance and perform for the men’s approval. She saw a few women being taken away, their hands over their eyes. They were probably crying.
She distracted herself by focusing again on the young girl. The girl lay there, trying to concentrate on the degrading task she had been given. Her body suddenly relaxed, and she opened her mouth.
“…I… can’t…” 091 deduced.
She received another lashing and screamed out in pain. The markings across her torso nearly formed an X, more like a cross. Blood spilled again.
She was scolded harshly once more, her trainer growing increasingly frustrated. His hand moved toward his belt, and 091’s fear sharpened.
“Surely the girl is going to die!” 091 thought. However, she was in no position to intervene and could only watch with tense eyes.
After the girl calmed herself, she tried again, placing her trembling hands where she had been instructed. She did not move.
One… two… three… four…
Only seconds before he would lash her for the final time, she finally obeyed the degrading command, an expression of extreme pain across her face. She looked ready to cry, but no tears fell. It was awkward and painful to watch. 091 instinctively winced and averted her gaze. Her heart calmed by the slightest degree.
Suddenly, a sharp pain ran down her back. She had been lashed. She dropped onto the table, grinding her teeth and trying not to cry. Instead, she allowed a muffled scream. “Focus!” her trainer demanded.
Motivated by the thought of death, she quickly resumed the routine with intense focus, trying to ignore the cuts spread across her body and the sharp tingle that traveled through her nerves whenever she moved a limb.
But then she saw something that stole all of her attention.
Her trainer, as well as several others, reacted the same way.
A woman who appeared to be in her thirties entered the room beside the man who seemed to be her trainer. What 091 noticed, however, was strange.
Like the trainers, the woman wore a white masquerade mask.
“…Not like the rest of us…” 091 thought.
Unable to avert their gaze, the others watched in silence as the pair approached a pole firmly attached to a metal platform. The platform had no stains—none at all. For the slightest moment, 091 thought they were divine beings. They almost seemed to radiate a magical light.
Both wore light, contented smirks. When they reached the platform, the woman took her place at the pole without instruction and began to dance.
She moved with extraordinary precision, every turn and swing captivating the room. She wore a smile throughout the performance.
After five minutes, she stopped. It seemed sudden to the others, who had not noticed the time passing. She leaned toward her trainer, who leaned toward her in return.
“As expected of you, Madeline…” he said before giving her a long, deep kiss. She did not even flinch.
They continued for approximately a minute, seeming like lovers, but 091 thought better. Afterward, they simply left, their contented smiles still in place.
She noticed her trainer sigh, almost as though he were lovestruck. He turned to 091 and smiled. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he said. “She’s the best of the best, and she got it all from Housen. It’s rare to see the two of them out.”
“Housen,” 091 assumed, was the name of Madeline’s trainer.
Afterward, the rest of the girls were instructed again. 091 continued the routine throughout the hour, grimacing slightly whenever her wounds pulled too far apart. She occasionally glanced at the young girl while also thinking about the mystical woman.
Later that night, to 091’s surprise—she had thought the instruction would never end—another bell sounded, quieter and less forceful than the first. It was now one in the morning.
“Good work, ladies!” one of the men said enthusiastically. 091 could tell the enthusiasm was forced. She assumed he was slightly depressed that the session could not last longer. She felt the opposite.
“Girls 089 through 109, please line up in front of me!” he declared. He was obviously referring to the “names” they had been given, and 091 was of course included. She was the first to approach him, albeit slowly, as her wounds were apparent and throbbing. When she finally reached him, she saw the satisfied smile plastered across his face. With weary eyes, she smiled back.
Shortly afterward, the summoned girls lined up behind 091, their wounds made more apparent by drops of blood falling onto the floor. Some were apparently unable to make it.
“You all did great! We are very proud!” he said cheerfully. His emotions did not match theirs. The contrast was so wide that 091 felt a sudden urge to vomit. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Their group was the first to leave the room, and the others formed an organized line behind them. 091 assumed they would simply be taken back to their cells, but after emerging from the passage, they walked past them. 091 became nervous.
They continued walking, and 091 began to grasp how large the structure truly was. They passed multiple cell rooms, training rooms, lounges, and even an occasional kitchen. The faint aroma of food made her realize how desperately her body wanted nourishment. Her vision began to waver, but she did not dare stop walking.
Finally, they halted. Her head hanging low, 091 looked up and saw two large glass doors, their panes fogged. “Here we are,” the man said. “Please take the station assigned to you.”
He entered a code into a keypad on the left, and the heavy doors slowly opened, gusts of steam rolling into their faces. As the fog cleared, 091 admired the beautiful design of the room. It was a shower chamber, with a small stall for each girl.
At first, they were unsure what to do. Being given such a thing felt surreal, and they fidgeted around skeptically. 091 was the first to step forward, feeling the warm, comforting mist surround her. The others did the same.
For the first time since they had arrived, they felt safe.
“To your places, please!” one of the men demanded, reminding them of the earlier instruction. The girls were quickly brought back to reality and went to their designated areas, each marked with a large engraving of her “name.”
“Please do not move once the water is turned on. It is important for your recovery,” he announced, making sure his voice was clear and audible.
Suddenly, water began to fall from the showerhead above. 091 expected a warm, pleasant shower like the ones she had at home, but the water burned wherever it touched her wounds. She almost screamed. Instead, she simply gritted her teeth, as she always did.
Her body could endure no more, and she collapsed onto the floor, allowing the heavy droplets to strike her skin and wounds.
She felt as though every muscle in her body was contracting, and her wounds throbbed the more they were submerged. She looked up for the slightest second and saw all the other girls in equal pain, some screaming silently.
“This will help repair your wounds,” one of the men said. “By morning, they should feel as though they never existed. Please, you only have to last one minute longer.”
Knowing they could not refuse, they continued to endure the painful water, their vision wavering and their breaths growing heavy. 091 felt as though she might collapse again.
Within the next minute, the shower came to an abrupt end. The girls were unable to enjoy the end of their suffering, as they all felt dangerously ill. They sat exhausted on the floor—their wounds pulsing wildly, their lungs seeming to collapse.
“We thank you for your patience. Truly. We understand that the process is not exactly favorable, but it is very important for your well-being at our establishment. I’m sure you’re all very tired. Let’s get you some rest.”
From there, the men led the girls back to their cells. They were given no particular order, but all of them slouched as soon as they had the chance. They did not even have the energy to eat the meal they were given, though it was richer than the food before. They merely tried to dismiss the aching pain by sleeping. Of course, even that proved difficult.
After a few minutes, the door opened. One of the staff entered, clutching a girl’s arm. It was the same girl 091 had watched earlier, and the recognition brought the slightest bit of life back into her.
“Sorry to disturb you all so suddenly,” he said, seeming to apologize. “At the request of our higher-ups, we think it would be best to assign her to your group.”
091 examined the girl’s left arm, which had been branded with an angry red 102. Her right arm was wrapped tightly in bandages. 091 presumed that was where her old “name” had been.
She was clearly exhausted. She struggled to keep her glossy eyes open and limped as the staff member directed her to a cell. She was placed in the cell of the crying girl, who was of course no longer there. 091 wondered whether they had bothered to clean the mess.
He whispered something to her, then left, leaving the door open behind him. The girls’ hearts raced, but such hope was quickly deterred when he returned with the same meal the others had been given. This time, he locked the door behind him.
091 was deeply curious about the girl but far too tired to begin any kind of conversation. She dismissed her feelings as childish and attempted to sleep. She failed.
She continued to sit in the corner of her cell, staring blankly at the stains on the floor and feeling the rapid pulsing throughout her body. Her head pounded with her own thoughts until she could no longer think—not that she was capable of much thought anyway. All her energy was directed toward not breaking.
But suddenly, her attention was drawn elsewhere.
Beyond the bars of her cell stood a tall presence. As 091’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out a woman standing upright. The slightest smile rested on her face as she peered down at 091.
“Hello,” she said. “Have you been able to get any rest?”
091 was unsure how to respond. She felt as though she should, yet at the same time as though she did not have the right. She was also extremely tired. The pounding in her head grew more intense the more she tried to understand the situation.
“No need to answer. I know it is probably none at all. That’s unfortunate, as all the others seem to be asleep.” She glanced around the room. “Do you feel well? A simple yes or no is fine.”
“…N-Nau…” 091 responded. She understood English well, but speaking it seemed to be a practice beyond her reach. Plenty of foreign girls were similar.
“Ah, I expected as much. Here. It will help lessen the pain.”
She moved closer to the bars of 091’s cell, and 091 subconsciously pressed farther into the wall. The woman tossed an item through the metal bars, where it skittered softly across the floor. It was a small vial. 091 shifted her gaze from it to the woman’s face, which was much clearer now that she had come closer. It was the same beautiful, superior face she had seen during training. 091 remembered her name as Madeline, one she would be unable to forget for a very long time.
Madeline showed 091 a warm smile, able to see the shock across her face. She nodded toward the vial, gesturing for 091 to take it.
091 stared at the vial for a long time before retrieving it and opening it. A strong smell like vinegar escaped, causing her to recoil.
She looked back at Madeline, who continued to smile. With such a sincere expression, combined with Madeline’s unrivaled beauty, 091 felt increasingly compelled to do as she suggested. She felt safe in her presence, like a child unwilling to stray from her mother.
After a short while, 091 finally brought the vial to her mouth and drank its contents. It was horrible. It was bitter and made the back of her throat itch, but if Madeline said it would help, then 091 was willing to accept it. She quickly finished.
“There you go,” Madeline said softly. “Just give it a little time to settle, and you should manage to fall asleep like the others.”
She backed away from 091’s cell, her appearance becoming less distinct than before. This disheartened 091, but she chose not to express it. Instead, she focused harder on the features she could still make out, wanting to remember every part of Madeline she could.
“…You’re very pretty,” Madeline said. With that, she left, softly closing and locking the door behind her. It seemed she could roam whenever she pleased, a privilege that seemed to befit her beauty.
As 091 engraved Madeline’s image into her mind, she felt her headache lessen, though it was far from gone. At last, she felt able to sleep. Exhausted and comforted by Madeline’s brief presence, she did.
It was not long before the girls were again awakened by the dastardly bell. As they slowly came to their senses, they realized the pain from the previous day was gone. More precisely, it was as though their bodies had gone numb. 091 rubbed her hands together and felt only the slightest sensation. Their wounds, however, were still very apparent.
It was nine in the morning. Most of the girls seemed to have gotten their fill of sleep. 091 was not among them; her eyes were heavy. She tried to ignore the feeling, knowing it would once again be a long day and night.
From a speaker in one of the adjacent rooms, a robotic voice informed the girls of the day’s activities. The main session with the patrons would begin promptly at 9:30. Training would begin at midnight and last until one; then they would wash, eat, and rest. It was the same process as the day before.
“…Again…?” some of the girls asked in quivering voices. Of course, they knew there was no hope of anything changing, but being told so directly seemed to crush their spirits further.
And so the routine proceeded exactly as announced. The patrons arrived soon after 9:30 and chose among the cells, including 091’s. Through every excruciating hour that followed, she endured with a wide, unfading smile. She could feel her teeth chipping against one another, some pressing deeper into her gums. She remembered seeing girls with no teeth at all and assumed she would soon look the same.
Because of her beauty, it was a long while before she was left alone. By then, five hours had passed. Her ribs ached beneath every breath, and her skin bore fresh bruises and torn places. New wounds covered her body, but at least she was alone.
She was sure the repeated assaults would leave her pregnant. The thought that the child might be discarded relieved her. No child should have to endure such a place, but luck could not prevent such an outcome forever. She realized this and began preparing herself for the possibility.
As she listened to the suffering in the other cells, she realized the young girl beside her had not yet been chosen. A light tear formed near her eye, grateful that the gods had shown mercy to at least one girl in this dreadful place. Maybe the club would kill her for being useless. Then she would never have to feel the pain the place promised. The idea relieved 091 greatly.
Of course, there are no gods in such a place.
Another patron entered the room, as many did. They filtered in and out so often that 091 hardly noticed. While she reassured herself with thoughts of the pleasure of death, he surveyed the girls. His attention first turned to 091, but because of her worn condition, his attraction quickly dwindled. Instead, he looked toward the girl in the adjacent cell: 102.
“How much is she?” he asked a nearby staff member with a smile. 091’s heart raced. Her head instantly filled with resentful thoughts. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” she thought. “Why must he choose her? Please, anyone but her!”
She stepped toward the bars and tried to draw his attention back to herself, but he showed no interest.
“Ah, the girl? A mere ten thousand! She’s new and untrained, but that will change as she grows older, so we plan to raise her price accordingly.” He chuckled.
“With that said, we are also offering a monthly arrangement. For twenty-five thousand a month, you may reserve her exclusively, now and as she grows older. Quite a deal for someone with such potential, no?”
“…For as long as I want? So she’s essentially mine?” he asked.
“…Hmm… I suppose we could arrange something. Thirty-two thousand a month, and she is yours and yours alone. No other patron would be permitted near her. We don’t do this often, so take it or leave it.”
091 smiled so hard that she could feel her gums bleeding. Her blood seemed to boil, her rage and contempt nearly beyond control. She felt as though she could kill the man standing before her, speaking of such foul arrangements. Her anger only grew when she imagined the fear 102 must have felt and what awaited her. 091 could barely keep herself from screaming.
“Deal.” The dreaded word was spoken. The staff member smiled with great pleasure and unlocked 102’s cell, the clanking hinges reverberating deep within 091’s heart. She sank to the floor, her head leaning close to the wall that separated her from 102.
“Here you are, sir. Please, enjoy yourself.”
091 pressed her head against the wall while the sounds from the neighboring cell made clear enough what was happening. Every muffled cry and sudden impact drove her closer to madness. She pressed her skull against the wall, body tense, shaking, teeth clenched as she listened to the destruction of a girl she had imagined might escape this hell. Her vision began to blur beneath the force of her rage. Then she noticed a warm sensation on her cheek. She was crying.
How could such a thing be? She had tried so hard, despite everything done to her, not to shed a single tear—and yet she cried for this girl. She wiped her face in disbelief, glanced around to make sure nobody had noticed, and reached a conclusion.
She must save that girl.
There was no other reason she had suddenly shed a tear. For such a young girl to be harmed in such a way—what a horrible fate! It should have been her. It should have been 091. But there are no gods in this place. This place knows no mercy.
091 would do anything to save that girl.
Save her from this hell. It was something she must do. It was something she would do.
She only needed to figure out how.
Weeks passed after her belief solidified. She continued to listen to the wails and screeches of the unfortunate and, more importantly, the wails of 102. Every minute of her life was dedicated to finding a way to release the girl from the club without being killed herself. 091 was no longer pure; she had been soiled by many. But 102… she had been tainted by only one. She could still be cleansed. She could still be saved. This was the belief 091 held.
Finally, one night, after training and the dreaded shower, she waited for all the girls to fall asleep. She listened to their exhausted breathing until she was certain. When the opportunity came, she lightly knocked against the wall separating her from 102.
She did so periodically, hoping 102 would eventually wake. An hour passed before 091 finally heard a rustling beyond the wall.
“…Hey…” 091 said softly. She waited for a response and received none. She said it again.
“…Who…?” the girl finally responded. She had a European accent and a soft, high-pitched voice. 091’s excitement peaked. She was finally able to speak to the girl—the girl she would save.
“…Tat man… is bad, no? De one tat you see totay?”
102 remained silent for a moment, trying to understand what 091 had said.
“…Do you mean Jeffery? I… I don’t mind him much…”
…What?
“He hurts me sometimes, but then he holds me and says he loves me… M-My parents never liked me much, s-so… it feels nice. H-He even gives me treats sometimes. L-Like chocolate, and…”
What?
091 listened as the girl professed affection for the man—affection that was not supposed to be there. She was happy? What? How? How could anyone be happy in this place? It was false. She was not happy. She could not be happy.
“B-but tat man hurt you tay after tay. How come habby?”
“I-I told you, he—”
“You can’t be habby with tat man! It impossible! Most girls do anythen to get out here, and you tell me you habby? Don’t you want to die? Why live in such place?”
“H-He loves me!”
091 slammed her fists against the wall, not caring about the sound. “You habby? You habby? You suffer in dis place with rest of us. How you habby? Don’t you want to die? Why live in such place?”
“S-Shut up!”
091 went silent. She slowly withdrew from the wall and lay on the tiled floor. Tears dripped from her face, and she felt herself becoming hot and tense. 102 was stupid. She was an absolute idiot. How could she think such things? As 091 questioned the girl’s behavior, she grew more and more frustrated. She slammed her fist against the floor and let out a horrid scream. She did not sleep that night. 102 eventually grew tired, even more so after what had happened, but 091’s eyes remained wide open. She sat in her cell, pondering 102’s stupidity.
Hours passed. It was five in the morning, and 091 remained awake, her body filled with anger. The door opened again. She hurried to the bars to see whether it was who she thought. It was Madeline. 091’s mood instantly improved. Her heart seemed to ease around such a beautiful presence.
“Ah, 091,” she said. “I see you’re wide awake again today.”
091 nodded, a slight smile forming on her face. At the same moment, a smile formed on Madeline’s. “You look troubled. What seems to be the problem?”
091 looked away in shame, wondering whether she should tell Madeline of her concerns. It felt wrong not to tell her, but she was uncertain.
“…You can tell me anything, 091. You know, I quite like you. I only want you to feel the same about me,” she said with a wide smile.
Of course 091 liked her! She adored her! She had to tell her, or Madeline would be mistaken in her judgment.
“…102, girl to weft, she be habby in place like dis… I don’t understand why she tink such thing.”
Madeline directed her gaze toward 102’s cell. She put on a sympathetic expression. “Ah, her. She has been fooled by that man. He doesn’t truly love her. He merely claims to. She is misguided, trapped in a void of false interpretations. The worst kind of suffering.”
091 was shocked. Of course, the girl had been deceived! There was no other possibility. Ah, it all seemed so clear now! She was not an idiot; she was simply misguided. 091’s hope rose. She could still be saved.
“D-Do you tink I could zave her? I could free her from dis place? From tat man?”
Madeline closed her eyes, deep in thought. “…It is very hard to do such a thing. This place isn’t exactly merciful…”
091 grew solemn.
“But there is one exception. You see, once a year, I may kill a girl of my choice. It does not matter how I do it or who carries it out. It only matters that it was my choice.”
“K-Kill her…?”
Madeline nodded. “I… never had the heart to do such a thing. But you—you could do it for me. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night is the only time I will consider it. Please, tell me your choice now.”
Kill 102 with her own hands? 091 would have to do it herself? She was astounded—excited, even. Death! Death was the best escape there was. And to do it with her own hands, to see the grateful face of 102 as she did it—ah, the thought made 091 quiver.
“Y-Yes! Den! Do it den!”
Madeline nodded. “…All right. I will take both of you tomorrow night. I’ll see you then.”
Madeline stepped away from 091’s cell with an uncertain expression. However, unbeknownst to 091, that expression changed into a wide, eager smile as she exited. The door locked with a click.
091 was filled with excitement. She had to hold herself back from jumping wildly with joy. She leaned her head against the wall separating her from 102 and listened to the soft sound of her breathing. She would finally be free. She would be a pure girl once more.
That day, 091 got no sleep at all. She did not need it. She wore wide, tight smiles throughout the hours, preparing for the event to come that night. Ah, she felt as though she would explode! Explosions full of happy glitter! She knew 102 would feel the same. All 091 had to do was explain that she was being exploited, and she, too, would welcome her death.
After what seemed like forever, night finally came. 091 waited restlessly for Madeline. It was 3:09 when she arrived.
“I’m going to get 102 first. I need to prepare her for what’s to come. I’ll be back shortly,” she told 091. 091 nodded, watching as Madeline approached 102’s cell and opened it with minimal noise. She drew a small syringe from her pocket and removed the protective cap from the needle.
With a swift movement, Madeline injected the substance into 102. For the slightest moment, 102’s eyes shot open, but they quickly grew heavy, and she fell unconscious. Madeline wore a wide, maniacal smile as she pulled the girl from her cell. She changed it to an expression of discomfort before returning to 091’s view.
“I’ll be back shortly,” she said, carrying 102 with ease. 091 expected nothing less of Madeline—she must have been so strong! Of course, 091 felt guilty for causing her discomfort, but she assumed they both knew it had to be done. They had to save this girl.
After fifteen long minutes, Madeline returned. She approached 091’s cell and opened it with the same precision she had used on 102’s.
“I’ll need you to be quiet so as not to wake the others,” she told 091.
An obedient 091 nodded, unable even to think of betraying Madeline. With light clanks, the gate to her cell slowly slid open, and 091 stepped out. It was a strange, thrilling sensation. If the mere feeling of walking without a guard was such a pleasure, imagine how death must have felt. 091 could barely contain herself.
“All right… follow me.”
Trying to be as quiet as possible, 091 followed the tall Madeline through the hallways. She saw rooms, places, and things she had never witnessed before. It was a wonder how large the club was. Strangely, it made her feel ill.
After a few minutes of walking, they reached a dark, cold hallway with sixteen doors, eight on each side.
“W-wat… wat is dis…?” 091 asked, astounded.
“…This is where people get saved, 091. Come. 102 is behind the fifth door on the right.”
They entered a cold, damp room. It smelled of wet plaster, and drops of blood stained the floor. “…W-were others dat been saved as well…?” 091 asked. Madeline took a moment to respond.
“Yes. You are not the only one who has had these thoughts. Those among you are rare. It is not a bad thing.”
In the middle of the room, chained tightly to a metal chair bolted to the floor, sat an unconscious 102. Chains held her legs, hands, and neck. She remained completely upright, sleeping. The sight made 091 slightly uncomfortable.
“…Dis don’t hurt her?” she asked.
“…I admit it is uncomfortable, but it is a necessary part of saving her. If she can move, she will only make things harder. The easier it is for us, the easier it is for her. Don’t you want to save her? Release her from this horrid place? Think of everything that has happened to you. Do you want her to experience that same torture any longer?”
Of course not. 091 could not stand the thought of 102 being tainted, manipulated, tortured, whipped, or beaten. She needed to save her. She had to save her from this hell.
“N-No! We save her! I want to save her!”
Madeline smiled. “I do as well. Now wake her. A simple shake should do the trick.”
091 turned to Madeline for confirmation. Madeline smiled meekly and gestured for her to proceed. 091 approached the unconscious 102 and inspected her. The excitement inside her continued to grow. Before long, she eagerly shook 102’s shoulders, causing the girl to jolt awake. 102 tried to move her neck, but the chains quickly forced it back into position.
“W-What am I doing here?” she asked, frantically looking around. “Wha…”
Her eyes met 091’s. She gritted her teeth, eyes glossy. “W-Who are you…? What do you want…?”
“Hey…” 091 said. 102’s eyes shot open. She instantly recognized the voice, and tears began to fall.
“I-It’s you! W-What do you want? I already told you how I feel. Just… leave me alone!”
“T-Tat man lie to you! He don’t love you! He hurt! He hurt you and make you pain! He no good! You can’t love him!”
“No, you’re the liar! H-He would never lie to me! He told me himself! Y-You’re just upset because nobody treats you the way he treats me—”
091 struck 102 hard in the face. The girl’s head snapped backward before the chains pulled her upright again. She began to cry, loud and painful, as blood ran from her nose.
“I-Idiot! You not see? You hurt, you feel pain, every tay, so how habby?”
091 felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough, 091. She simply doesn’t understand. That’s all right. That is why we are going to save her. She will feel it. She will feel the release from pain. Moments before her death, she will realize she was wrong, and she will be thankful. Here.”
Madeline removed an item from her waist. It was a gun: the signature gun of William’s Club of Beauties, decorated with roses and the organization’s initials. 091 accepted it with uncertainty.
“N-No, wait! Please, I don’t want to die! I’ll do anything. I don’t care. J-Just please don’t take me away from him!”
091 was disgusted.
“She is hopeless, 091. She’s ugly. Her behavior is very ugly. Sometimes the right thing is not the preferred thing. Kill her, 091. Let her feel the sweet release of death. Free her from this place. Free her from the pain.”
Her hand quivering and a wide smile on her face, 091 placed the gun against 102’s head. 102 shook wildly, trying to free herself from the chains. She screamed for mercy. She yelled for help. She begged to be spared. 091 would do none of those things. To spare her would mean she had not been saved. To spare her would mean she would continue to feel pain.
“It be all right now,” 091 told her. “We save you.”
A single shot replaced 102’s screams with an echo. Her body slumped in the chair, all frantic movement gone.
“She’s free, 091. You freed her.”
“Yes! I free her! I freed her! She habby now!”
“She was ugly, 091. It was disgusting, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it make me sick. She beautiful now. She habby!”
“We can save more, 091. We can remove the ugliness from them. Make them happy. Together. You and me. What do you say?”
Remove the ugliness from this place? Save them from the pain, misery, and sorrow? Make them finally happy? 091 was overjoyed by such an offer. She could continue to save these poor souls.
“Y-Yes… save more…” 091 said, smiling. “We make them habby…”
Madeline smiled—a wide, satisfied smile.
“…Great.”
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