Daian knew that Sandalwood Palace operated on an exclusive membership system. Without a member or an invitation from one, entry was impossible. This ensured the princes and nobles could indulge without restraint within its walls.
Daian replied fluently in Thai that she was a new server starting today and had an appointment with the floor manager, Asu.
One of the girls listened, then turned and signaled to the black-suited bodyguard behind her to confirm. The guard pressed the Bluetooth earpiece in his ear, exchanged a few quiet words, then nodded at the girl. Only then was Daian allowed through.
She had imagined the nightclub's opulence, but as she followed the server through winding corridors into the first-floor main hall, the overwhelming luxury that met her eyes and the sudden, deafening blast of music still took her by surprise.
The first floor seemed to be hosting a male model show. The space around the catwalk was packed with wealthy women and men sharing that particular taste, showering fistfuls of cash.
Pulsing to the DJ's beat, a handsome model of mixed heritage on the catwalk stripped down to just a silk loincloth. He blew kisses while bending to scoop up the piles of banknotes littering the stage – an intensely sensual and erotic scene.
Daian took in this blood-pumping sight for barely two seconds before averting her eyes.
Following the guiding server through countless VIP booths, she saw men and women lost in drunken oblivion, entwined like serpents. Each appeared impeccably dressed yet profoundly vulgar.
In the manager's office at the rear, Daian met the floor manager, Asu.
The moment the middle-aged man saw her, his jowls quivered for a second. From the instant she entered, he sat up straight, scrutinizing every inch of her from head to toe. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as if appraising merchandise.
He tut-tutted, puffing out his mustache. "I truly didn't expect Miss Daian to be so beautiful. It's a waste for you to be a server. Have you considered becoming one of our VIP hostesses? The income, of course, is also extremely substantial."
As he spoke, Asu rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign for money, took a drag from his cigarette, and leered slyly at her chest and face.
So-called VIP hostesses were, plainly put, high-end escorts, exclusively serving top officials and elite tycoons. Sandalwood Palace had five floors; the higher the floor, the more exclusive the private rooms, with the fifth being the pinnacle.
Daian tilted her head, offering a calm smile. "Manager Asu, I'm an international student. If I got involved in the 'water trade', I'd be deported. I just want to earn some pocket money, so I'm not considering it."
Manager Asu leaned back in his chair, a cigarette clamped between his teeth, and chuckled.
"Heh heh."
"Sandalwood Palace has handsome men and beautiful women from all over the world, countless international students too. Visas aren't a problem; it depends on Miss Daian's own choice. I believe one day, you'll be tempted."
"Perhaps," Daian refused him, "but not now."
Asu's confidence stemmed from his deep understanding of human nature. Many young girls venturing into the world often start in these pleasure dens as 'clean' servers.
But while serving was safe, the pay was bottom-tier, and fending off unwanted groping was unavoidable.
Working as a hostess, however, one night's earnings could equal a server's yearly income. Faced with such immense temptation, most found it hard to hold onto their principles.
So, while Asu didn't apply overt pressure, he was inwardly certain Daian, like any ordinary female student, would eventually take the plunge. It was only a matter of time; no need to rush.
Daian changed into a somewhat revealing, yet acceptable, Thai-style gown and entered the main hall to begin serving drinks. Her eyes constantly scanned the surroundings for any possible clues.
Underground fighting venues were usually extreme – either in abandoned factories on the outskirts or in the heart of the city's busiest districts. Sandalwood Palace belonged to the latter category.
Not only was the location hidden, but to avoid leaks, the timing was constantly adjusted or canceled. Ordinary people had almost no access.
Since there was no message from N canceling, the fight was definitely on. The only question was where.
Servers from the main hall weren't allowed above the second floor at Sandalwood Palace. Moreover, logic dictated such underground activities wouldn't occur upstairs – too noisy, too bloody, too easy to discover.
Daian's mind raced, realizing only one option remained: there must be a hidden basement level.
After serving in the main hall for nearly forty minutes, enduring countless unwelcome gropes from ill-intentioned patrons,
Daian ducked into the restroom to collect her thoughts. She happened upon a server-garbed girl hunched over a toilet, vomiting, clearly in poor shape.
Daian initially didn't plan to intervene, but she crouched down, offering the girl a couple of tissues. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
The girl turned, glanced at her, hastily took the tissues, retched again, then finally gasped out a weak "Thank you."
Daian glanced at the name tag on the girl's left chest: Zhang Yaruo. The surname Zhang indicates Chinese heritage or nationality. Her Thai also had an accent. Daian took a chance.
"Are you Chinese?" Daian asked in Mandarin.
Yaruo turned, her eyes lighting up as if seeing a lifeline, her voice raspy. "Yes! Are you too?"
Daian nodded, saying it was her first day, then asked again what was wrong. Yaruo, recalling the scene, visibly shuddered, clenching her fists. "It was too bloody... I just couldn't handle it."
"Bloody?" Daian pressed.
Yaruo explained she was normally a server on the first floor, but the underground fight pit was short-staffed today, so they sent her down. The fight was gruesome, blood and gore flying everywhere. Two fighters had already been carried out, not sure if they were even alive. Yaruo was terrified, nerves frayed, whole body trembling.
But she couldn't leave. There were VIPs down there. If she caused offense, the manager would be furious. As she spoke, two tears of pure terror rolled down her cheeks.
Daian's interest was sparked. She quickly helped Yaruo up, comforting her, then pretended to think it over with difficulty. "Don't be scared. Look, I'm not afraid of blood. I'll go to your place. We swap. You cover the main hall for me, I'll go down below."
Hearing this salvation, hope flared in Yaruo's eyes. "Really? But it's truly horrible. Are you sure?"
Daian smiled and gave a firm "Mhmm." She then warned Yaruo not to tell anyone about the swap. Yaruo said the manager had face blindness, so it was fine.
And so, guided by Yaruo, Daian cut through a secluded garden in the rear courtyard into another lobby. This space was far more serene and elegant than the main hall she'd left.
Yaruo told her this was the South Wing, essentially closed to the public, reserved only for guests personally received by the Chan family.
They walked to a section dominated by towering bookshelves reaching towards the ceiling. Yaruo pulled a cord beside a wall sconce. The fireplace area partitioned in two, revealing an entrance.
Yaruo informed her this was an entrance exclusively for VVIP guests. Other fighters and spectators used a different entrance via the back door. It seemed that without Yaruo leading the way, Daian would never have found it tonight.