“Oh well, that’s too bad. But I guess we are searching for a needle in a haystack here. Off to the next one?” Aoba showed no disappointment, smiling as she led the way. He understood she was purposefully keeping things light so he wouldn’t be dejected by their string of failures, but he couldn’t help but wonder what motive she might have to try so hard. She showed no sign of having any ill intentions toward him, and she sometimes looked at him with sad, wavering eyes that further dissuaded him from prying.
“Up next is this building here.”
She led him to a two-storied café-style building next. A small signboard with the words “Sakuraba Milk Hall” was out front. The place’s modern design strongly hinted at it belonging to the new wave of red-light districts.
“I’ll wait here outside,” she said. It was bad practice to take a sex worker into a competitor’s brothel, after all.
“Got it. Thanks.” He placed his hand on one of the two rather striking diagonal brass door handles and opened the door, which let out a long creak as it opened. Inside was a counter one would generally expect from a café or milk hall, as well as several waitresses on standby. He received a number of bewildered looks, likely because he looked so young.
“Welcome.” A man behind the counter, presumably the manager of the establishment, greeted Jinya. He had an effeminate drawl to his voice.
No matter the era, red-light districts operated about the same. Even if someone was a little young, they were a customer so long as they had at least some manners and could pay.
“I’ll have liquor. Actually, some milk if you would.”
“Sure thing.”
Jinya checked the faces of the waitresses as he approached the counter, then ordered a drink. He took a quick look around and felt somewhat nostalgic.
Milk halls had been at the height of their popularity in the Taisho years. After the time of the Great Kanto Earthquake, they were mostly supplanted by the newer trend of cafés, making them a rare sight. Jinya sighed, thinking to himself how the old replacing the new was simply the way of things as he received a glass of milk from the manager.
“Thanks. I have some questions I’d like to ask, if that’s all right.”
“Well, of course. Need help making a pick?” the manager joked.
The manager had brought the milk over, not one of the waitresses, as he’d sensed beforehand that Jinya had questions. He seemed to intuit Jinya wasn’t there to spend time with a woman. The milk was indirect payment for taking up the man’s time.
Jinya took a sip of the milk, then asked, “Is there an employee with the name of a flower working here?”
“Sorry, none at our place. I’m sure you can still find a girl who suits your fancy here, though.”
“Have you heard any strange rumors?”
“Rumors, dear? The Dove District hasn’t been around long, but it’s still a red-light district. You’ll find your usual ghost stories here and there, if that’s what you’re after.” The man shrugged, having nothing to offer on both accounts.
Jinya had come up empty-handed again, but he wasn’t disappointed. The point of his search wasn’t really the search itself but to see how the mysterious sex worker of rumor would respond. If she was really a daughter of Magatsume, then she should make a move at some point. By that logic, his efforts weren’t truly in vain.
Just then, a waitress came down from the second floor, her arm linked with a customer’s, and he recognized her. She was the sex worker he met last night, the one who’d gotten involved with some troublesome man.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s Hotaru-chan. One of our most popular girls,” the manager answered.
The woman seemed to take notice of Jinya as well, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She looked away indifferently and leaned against her client, smiling warmly at him. She couldn’t be eyeing other men while she was on the job, or her client would feel slighted. That kind of consideration brought to mind the sex workers of old. With some nostalgia, Jinya felt this lady of the night was out of place in this modern red-light district.
“Girls like her were more common back in the Tamanoi days,” the manager said to himself. For a brief moment, his gaze turned melancholic.
It was a faux pas to dredge up the past in this line of business. Jinya tactfully made no comment on the manager’s words, finished his remaining milk in one go, and then took out some money and got up to pay. “Sorry for the bother.”
“Not at all. I love well-mannered men like you.” The manager smiled slightly, amused by Jinya’s antiquated mannerisms.
“Oh, one more thing.” As he left, Jinya recalled one last question he’d forgotten and looked over his shoulder. “Why do you remain here?”
The question seemed to hit a sore spot. There was weariness in the manager’s smile. “Good question. I suppose I have lingering regrets, and attachments too. We all have things we can’t bring ourselves to leave behind.”
His words resonated with Jinya, who carried his own attachments to the past. They met eyes and, feeling a kinship, both smiled softly.
“Feel free to come by again,” the manager said. “Maybe for a stiffer drink instead.”
“If I get the chance.” Jinya looked away and left. As he opened the door, it creaked again, as though it hadn’t been used in ages.
The blinding light of pink neon signs and street lamps greeted him as he stepped outside. This place was full of glitz and glamour, and yet it all felt so hollow.
“How’d it go, Jin-san?” Aoba quickly approached him like a puppy that had been waiting for its owner. She certainly had the slyness of a lady of the night, being able to put on such a cutesy act while hiding her hidden motives.