I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

“Tell me, pretty boy—” his grin became more lewd, “—do you take it from behind? Or are you the type who just lies there looking pretty while real men do all the work?”

His companions roared with laughter at that, slapping the table and making crude gestures.

Several other guests in the common room shifted uncomfortably, but no one intervened. This was apparently accepted behavior in the night crowd—the strong preying on the weak.

However, Julian’s expression didn’t change. He simply looked at the punk with mild interest, as if examining an unusual insect.

Then he smiled.

“Tell me,” Julian said, his voice perfectly calm, “how much do you cost? I would like to rent you.”

The laughter in the room cut off abruptly.

The punk’s grin faltered, confusion crossing his scarred face.

“What?” he said stupidly.

“How much do you cost?” Julian repeated. “For your services. You seem very concerned with who does what to whom sexually, which suggests you have professional experience in the matter. So I’m asking—what’s your rate? I’d like to rent you for the evening. Or are you too expensive for my budget?”

The silence in the hall was absolute now. Several people were staring with their mouths open, unable to believe what they were hearing.

These two were out-gaying one another.

The punk’s face flushed red—whether from anger or embarrassment that was unclear.

“You… you fucking—”

But Julian had already turned away, dismissing the man as if he were of no consequence whatsoever. He began walking toward the door again, completely unconcerned with the furious thug behind him.

That was apparently too much for the punk’s pride to bear.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” he roared, his hand shooting out to grab Julian’s shoulder.

What happened next occurred so quickly that most people in the room didn’t fully process it until it was over.

Julian’s hand moved faster than the eye could track. There was a flash of something white, a sound like cloth tearing, and then—

The punk’s hand, still gripping Julian’s shoulder, fell to the floor.

For a moment, there was perfect silence. The punk stared at his severed arm, his brain unable to process what had happened.

Then the pain hit, and he began screaming.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

Meanwhile, Julian continued walking toward the door as if nothing had happened.

Behind him, chaos erupted. The punk’s companions rushed to their leader, who had collapsed to his knees. Other guests scrambled back, not wanting to be involved. Someone shouted for a healer.

Julian reached the door, pushed it open, and stepped out into the night.

The cool air was refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the common room. He took a deep breath and looked up at the stars visible between the buildings.

Behind him, he could hear shouting, cursing, the punk still screaming. But no one followed him out. No one challenged him further.

Julian began walking down the street, leaving the Silver Moon Inn behind.

He had no particular destination in mind. He just needed to move.

The streets of Ezakael at night were indeed different from during the day.

Julian walked slowly, monitoring everything around him. He noted the figures watching from alleys, the shadows that moved silently and the constant feeling of being observed and evaluated.

Several times, he sensed potential threats approaching but each time, something made them hesitate.

Whatever the reason, no one approached him directly.

He walked for perhaps thirty minutes, moving deeper into the city. The architecture changed gradually, becoming less residential and more commercial, but with a distinct character he recognized immediately.

Bright lights began to appear ahead. Not the soft glow of the magical street lamps, but vibrant red and purple. Music filled the air and even the air was seductive.

Julian had reached the red light district.

The streets here were very much awake. If anything, this area was more active at night than during the day. The roads were crowded with people moving between brothels, laughing, drinking.

But what caught Julian’s attention immediately were the women.

They lined the streets, stood in doorways, leaned against walls, positioned on balconies above—all dressed in minimal clothing.

An elf woman stood near a lamppost, her thin dress leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her moonlight hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, and her eyes tracked passing men with barely disguised hunger.

Next to her, a human woman wore black leather with perfectly calculated cutouts that exposed significant amounts of skin. Her breasts were barely contained, threatening to spill free with any movement.

She called out to a group of men passing by: “Looking for a good time, gentlemen? I promise I can satisfy all of you…”

Further down, a cat-woman wore practically nothing at all. Just thin strips that covered the absolute minimum while drawing the eye to everything else. Her tail swished hypnotically behind her as she stretched in a doorway.

She made eye contact with Julian and blew him a kiss.

The air itself seemed thick with sex, the smell of perfume, sweat, and desire mixing together. The sounds of pleasure drifted from open windows. Everything about the district was shameless, open and unapologetic.

Julian walked slowly through this district and several women called out to him as he passed:

“Handsome stranger! Come warm my bed tonight!”

“I’ve never had anyone as pretty as you—let me show you what I can do!”

“First time’s half price for someone who looks like you!”

Julian acknowledged them with polite nods but continued walking.

There were brothels of varying sizes and quality. Small, shabby buildings where cheap transactions happened quickly. Mid-level brothels with some act of class—proper doors, bouncers, women who weren’t quite as desperate-looking. And then, at the district’s center, larger, more impressive buildings that answered to wealthier client.

He was approaching one of these larger establishments when a woman stepped directly into his path.

She was striking—human, with dark hair that fell in waves to her waist and eyes so dark they appeared black in the night. Her dress was deep purple, made of silk or something similar, with a corset-style top that pushed her breasts.

“Well, hello there,” she purred, her voice like honeY. “I haven’t seen you before. Fresh meat in our little paradise?”