BORIS OCTAVIUS stepped inside the rundown brothel of Asmodeus Müller, scanning the place with a dispraising look on his face. Müller usually waits by the door, warmly greeting every customer that comes in his business, but today he was nowhere in sight.
Where could that human be at this time?
A young woman suddenly approached him and smiled. “Hi! Would you like to meet the girls upstairs?” She asked.
He didn’t look at the woman at first. He continued looking around the place, like it was his first time going there. “Where’s Müller?”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “He’s not here right now. Do you have an appointment with him? I can tell him you’re here, but he probably won’t be back until this evening.”
Boris wanted to laugh. Why would anyone need an appointment with that pesky money-g
