Chapter 1: Crossroads

WANTED BARTENDER

        Spartan Bars

The tall lanky man ripped the sign from the electric post, staring at the obscure map and directions. It’s not as if he has other options so he folded it then tucked it inside his pocket. A whole day has passed, it’s almost nighttime and he’s still as jobless as ever.

The last gig didn’t work out and now he’s back into searching around the area of his expertise. He tried for a better, different environment but that’s Korea for you. Papers mean nothing if you don’t give the right impression. It’s either you’re extremely smart or good looking to qualify in something decent, or extremely bad so you’re not overqualified. He’s stuck in the middle and no one wants him.

He followed the instructions and ended up in the Red light district, an infamous place somewhere in Itaewon. He thought it was just a slang underground people used, referring to their nests. He could never imagine it actually exists. All he knows is that it is a place where all the odd stuff happen, and it’s definitely not in the usual red light district connotation everyone knows.

He finally found Spartan bars, and literally, it’s… bars. It reminded him of an old prison house. It was somewhat similar to a door that leads to gladiator dungeons. He doesn’t even know what to think of the rust, which can be easily mistaken for blood. It screams of torture and pain in a secretive, way. He wondered if he should apply after all when a thought of what the club specializes in comes into mind. He started to back out but he thought, he’s not in any position to let any chances pass.

Tonight he has the opportunity to confirm if the Red light district lives up to its name of being a mystery. Whatever told him to go for it knew it’s more due to intrigue than actually wanting the spot. Not many people know what the Red Light district is and something’s telling him this is for him.

With a deep breath, he approached the prison-bar-door and before he could think of what to do next, a loud hum echoed in the empty street. There was a clink and the metal bars slid up to reveal another door, this time a polished, wooden one with intricate carvings and an intimidating knob.

“Welcome to Spartan bars! I deduce… hmm right.” a smooth baritone with an accent he can’t place greeted him. Before he can take in the image of the man, the stranger has already stepped into his personal space and he doesn’t know where to look but up. Even the ceiling looked grand with its archways and hanging chandeliers. “You’re looking for work right?”

He was finally able to look down when the man stepped away and he was surprised to see the other. His host is of slender built, has a mustache you’d see on those old English films. He looked mildly Korean but he was so similar to an English butler. With the white buttoned shirt, black vest and pants, he was definitely handsome and he has this air of all knowing omniscience. This man both terrifies and intrigues our applicant.

“Err… yes. I am… I saw this.” he rummaged for the poster in his pocket but it’s gone. He dug on the other pockets of his jacket, stuttering and cursing himself. Now he gave out a bad impression and surely, he’d be rejected again. “I’m sorry I swear I placed it here…” he looked up to see the butler smiling. He’s holding the missing paper. “How?”

“If you’d heard of the Red Light District, then you knew better than to ask. Anyway we need someone to man the bars tonight so if you do okay, you’re in permanently…” he shivered when the man let that word linger in the air. It shouldn’t sound threatening at all but somehow it’s like a warning. “If not… well we have to find someone. Though, I highly doubt that. I think you’d fit in here just fine.”

The butler led the way inside. The long hallway was strewn with chains, armors, weapons and other dungeon paraphernalia. It was akin to a medieval museum though he doubted that those were actually used to kill.

The place definitely looks like something straight out of a high quality show.

They reached the main room and he almost expected to see people strapped in leathers, chained against tables or walls while someone whips them. He expected and the usual stuff he had read in 50 shades. His reverie was broken when he heard a snicker.

“Not what you expect?” The rich laughter sounded amused and he managed a weak smile of embarrassment. “Boy, we keep the good stuff away in the dungeons. For a price. We’re here to provide entertainment, for a fee.” The butler said with a wink.

A light was flicked on and he gathered his wits. There was a cage on the stage, a piano, more chains but no people begging and . It could pass as your normal bar with a posh feel yet true to itself medieval motif minus the torture. “Classy… I mean, not that I’m thinking of… nothing of course. It’s really nice.” He blurted out.

“Anyway, I think I should know your name first?”

“Lee Gwang soo from Namyangju. I’m Gwang soo I’ll work hard…