I Own A Brothel In Another World (Ch. 1-196)

Chapter 2 - The Past

After finishing getting all my stuff done, I take one last glance over the classroom. Everything seems fine and in proper order. Someone will come to check it before closing anyway, but I don't like leaving unnecessary work for janitors.

I leave and lock the door with my ID card. Looking to the left and right, I spot a few people roaming around the corridors. Some are waiting for their classes, some may be just leaving like my guys. There's no exact schedule for classes. It's another perk of being a teacher here. You can freely manage the time as long as you cover the material you are obliged to. That's why there won't be any problems with me ending earlier.

「Well then, let's hit a bathroom on the way. Nature is calling.」

As per usual I take the stairs. I might be a gamer/bookworm/weeb/etc., but that does not mean I'm a lazy ass fatso or just a lazy bum. As they say it nowadays, fit is lit, and I agree. It's not like there are tens of floors here.

Well, I do care about my body and how I look, even though I don't visit public spaces where I could show off my abs often. I might not be the hottest piece in the neighbourhood, but I do keep myself slim and fit with a bit of muscle here and there. I always had a thing for well-built bodies, and my father is at fault for this as he is a soldier, always in perfect shape. Or rather he was...

「You just had to go MIA on me old man, huh...」

With a slightly sour mood, I enter the bathroom on the lobby floor and head straight to the urinal, lost in thought. Every time I remember him, I somehow start thinking about my whole life. Well, it wasn't the worst, but on the other hand, it definitely wasn't normal.

As I've mentioned before, my mother was, and actually still is, a prostitute. That was her chosen career path as far as I know. No one forced her into that business, she just believed that's easy money and didn't find anything wrong with selling her body. And don't misunderstand me, I have nothing against it too. As long as it's out of volition, no one has the right to judge others. I mean, it's a job like any other. And if she likes it, that's just hitting two birds with one stone.

Anyway, she was working in a pretty decent establishment. The girls were treated fine, it wasn't some cheap-ass brothel barely on the legal path. My father, as a soldier usually does, was accumulating a lot of stress and bad vibes, and visiting that place was his type of escape from it. Nothing clears your head better than a big ol' nut in the hut.

They met a few times, under obvious conditions, and always had a pretty good time. He started requesting her at his every visit, she was kinda his type, at least anatomically speaking. So after some time, he started developing feelings for her. And fortunately for him, so did she. At least that's what she told him, but...

He proposed and she agreed. He bought a small villa, they went on a honeymoon, things were looking great and lovely, a couple of lovebirds found their other halves in a kinda unusual spot, but why judge. She left the company on good terms and moved in with my father, living a life in luxury. Naturally, duty calls, and he was home less time than he was not.

Fortunately for me, he was there when I was born, because yes, they of course decided to have a child, or rather my father just didn't want to let in the thought he would not be having a son, somehow convincing mother.

For the first 3 years, we were your usual happy family. Since he was a sniper in some kind of elite covert ops, and from what I know one of the best, he luckily avoided having to leave for an operation for so long. But that couldn't go on forever.

Just next morning after he left for his first mission after their marriage, she changed a full one-eighty. Around father, she has always been flirty, cutesy, lovey-dovey and caring. But when left alone with just me, she was a literal bitch. At first, she at least tried to pay attention to me, but with time she just couldn't keep up the act. I was treated as a pushover, without a glint of any respect or motherly care. Feed with something, a bath once in a while, left in a corner for the rest of the time, while she was gone or just enjoying herself with all the modern commodities. And obviously, I was getting hit for anything done wrong. Under her 'intense' care I learned how to properly use the toilet, eat, bathe and somehow do something with myself in my spare time.