My 100% completion system: Harem In Another World!

Morning had already come, the sun rising steadily over the city of Harksvell. As the day started, its citizens began their daily routines, opening up their shops, and sweeping dust from the stone paths.

In a narrow alley tucked between two buildings, wedged behind rusted pipes and a set of dented trash cans, two men lay on the cold stone ground. A horse nosed around beside them, sniffling softly at something unimportant.

"So this is it," Tello muttered, staring up at a sliver of sky barely visible between the rooftops.

"What is?" Stephen replied, mirroring him.

"I dunno. I thought you'd have some kind of big plan for starting the brothel. You know, exciting stuff," He gestured to the alley, "Not this."

"That was the plan." Stephen sighed. "But unfortunately, we're probably the two most wanted men in the city right now. I'd wager the nobles and the entire damn kingdom are on our heels."

"But do they even know?" Tello asked, "maybe the investor's don't have a clue they've been conned."

"The main reason they trusted us was Cillian, since he introduced us, he acted as a bridge. And now that they probably know my last name isn't Willow's and they eventually find out yours isn't as well, its safe to assume they know."

"Right... that reminds me." Tello sat up, propping his head with one hand. "You're a prince? Like, an actual prince?"

"In the flesh." Stephen yawned, his stomach grumbling as he did.

"So how does that change our relationship?" Tello asked, now fully sitting. "Am I supposed to call you 'Your Majesty' now? Or 'Your Liege'?"

"Please don't." Stephen muttered. "Just keep calling me Stephen. Also, I'm not even a prince anymore, technically. I got disowned the moment I left the palace."

"Was that why the guards were so hot on your trail?"

"Most likely." Stephen waved it off. "Anyway, that's enough exposition... I'm starving."

"...And?"

"And you should make something." Stephen turned his head lazily toward him. "Like you did back at your place."

"I would like you to understand," Tello said dryly, gesturing around at the alley, "that we are currently not at my place and are in a garbage stained alleyway by the damn Twenty-Seventh!"

Stephen sat up too. "That reminds me... we'll have to move your mom to Rennes."

"What!?" Tello shouted, and Stephen winced, covering his ear.

"You want to come with me, right?" Stephen said. "This is the consequence of that. Even if they were given a fake name, they'll eventually find you. And your mom would probably get taken in for questioning."

"Crap..." Tello muttered, pressing his fingers against his temples.

"Exactly," Stephen said. "That's the price of this lifestyle. You can avoid it by turning yourself in to the royal guards and telling them you were coerced—"

"My mom hates Rennes," Tello interrupted. "Wouldn't Orgsoth be better? It's closer, and I could take care of her too."

Stephen glanced at him. "Wouldn't she ask why you suddenly need to move?"

"Probably. But if I tell her it's for work, I doubt she'll mind. Besides, we've got relatives there, maybe it's time we actually met them."

"What if the guards get to her before we do?" Stephen asked. "What if she already knows her son conned five nobles out of eighty-five grand?"

"She'll probably want to host a party," Tello chuckled. "She's always wanted me to get a job, legal or not. She'll most certainly be thrilled."

Stephen dropped his head back against the stone. He was planning to scare Tello into realizing the weight of their choices, but it seemed the system was right.

He was ready.

"Fine, you win." Stephen muttered. "Orgsoth it is then,"

"Sixty percent," Tello muttered suddenly.

"Of what?" Stephen said, shifting to lay on his side, using one of the bags as a headrest.

"The total brothel profits. Plus thirty thousand coins for my services and for closing the deal all by my lonesome."

Stephen sighed. "I'll settle for a half split, but no can do on the thirty thousand."

"Why not?" Tello frowned. "I got the money."

"And I was the one who forced you to get it." Stephen retorted. "But regardless of that. We need the money for the noble we're going to build the brothel under."

"You're paying a noble?" Tello head tilted, then he came closer, hand to Stephen's neck to check if he was sick. "What are you, a misguided Peter Pan?"

Stephen laughed softly. Then he suddenly stood, dusting himself off and stepping into the middle of the alleyway, looking at the ground.

"What are you looking for."

"Chalk?"

"Why would there randomly be chalk on the ground—"

"Found one." Stephen came back up, a piece of dusty chalk in his hand. He walked to the nearest wall and began scribbling on it.

"When dirty money comes into your possession, there are two ways to clean it," Stephen began, scribbling on the wall. "Actually, there's way more, but since the internet doesn't exist here, only two matter."

"What's the inter-net?" Tello asked.

"It's a very bad place," Stephen replied. "Horrible, even."

"Really? Why's it so bad?"

"There are people who took advantage of it to make shitty gacha games that cost three hundred dollars just to pull a single character." Stephen fell to his knees, clutching his chest. "And then they'd nerf the character weeks later."

"...I don't understand a word you just said."

"No matter." Stephen bounced back up, brushing away a fake tear. "There are two ways to wash dirty money. First: get the hell out of dodge. Leave the country, lay low, and pray your pursuers don't care enough to search all four regions. Wait it out long enough, and eventually, it's clean."

"That sounds... wildly optimistic. What's the second way?"

"You get someone else to do it for you." Stephen tapped the chalk against the wall. The tip broke off and clattered to the ground. "By having another noble take responsibility for the money, using his face as a cover, we can operate in plain sight."

"I see... so by having another noble take the front for an amount, we can have ownership of the business still from the backend." Tello repeated, more so to himself.

"Exactly." Stephen nodded.

"But isn't that risky? What if the noble sells us out?"

Stephen didn't answer right away. Instead, he crouched and picked up the broken chalk tip.

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "You see, stealing money has never been the issue."

Tello blinked. "...It hasn't?"

"Nope. The issue is when you keep all of it." Stephen stood again. "People want a piece of everything. Even the worst person becomes tolerable when they've got a stake in your crime."

He turned back to the wall. "Fifteen percent stake in the company, from your half, of course and a cool thirty thousand gold lump sum is enough to make most people forgive... and most importantly, forget. Even if other nobles start sniffing around."

"So he's our legal shield."

"Bingo." Stephen said, tapping his foot. "But finding our little shield won't be easy, we'd have to find someone greedy, and even better doesn't have strong relationships with our conned friends. That's our best target."

"...I think I know someone who fits the bill." Tello muttered and Stephen glanced at him.

"Would you look at that." He grinned.

The rest of their day, up until the evening glow touched the rooftops was spent on a whirlwind of activity. Tello snuck back into his house while Stephen stood watch, scanning the streets for any lingering royal guards.

After nearly an hour of arguing, and another spent packing. Tello's mother finally left, boarding a carriage bound for Orgsoth.

Stephen had handed Tello five thousand gold from their pooled stash, enough to cover three months of rent, food, and everything else she might need to settle in.

As Tello shoved most of his belongings into a satchel, from blueprints, sketches, and a couple changes of clothes for both him and Stephen, they finally ditched their banquet suits, slipping into casual outfits more fitting for fugitives.

Once darkness rolled in to mask their movement, they navigated through the city's back alleys, ducking into shadows whenever guards passed. Their destination: the manor of the noble Tello had mentioned.

And eventually, they arrived.

"That's huge," Stephen muttered, staring up at the lavish home. His horse, standing beside him, gave an unimpressed snort.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Tello said, eyes on the stallion. "Why did you bring the horse?"

Stephen glanced at him, then at the horse, who also turned to look at Tello as if insulted. "What's wrong with the horse?"

"Well, for one, it's a thousand pounds of muscle drawing attention to us. And two, why didn't we ride it here?"

"Well, for one," Stephen replied, gently stroking its muzzle, "Darla hasn't been fed yet. She's obviously tired."

"You named it?"

"Of course I named her. You don't name your pets?"

"Well, I for one have never had a pet horse," Tello said, just as a man approached from the manor.

"You're too close to the property," the man said, dressed in modest armor with a long sword at his hip. "I'll have to ask you to leave. Immediately."

"We have business with the owner," Tello said coolly. "Sir, George Traver."

The man gave them a slow once over. Then met their gaze. "I'm afraid my lord does not speak with... commoners. You're free to send a letter through the appropriate channels."

"Commoners?!" Tello bristled, nearly lunging before Stephen held him back. "I dare you to have called me a commoner yesterday!

"Calm down." Stephen said.

"Tell him how sexy I was yesterday!" Tello screamed, "tell him!"

"I will do no such thing," Stephen said flatly, then let him go. He turned back to the guard. "Apologies... for that. But we'd still appreciate an audience with your lord."

"And I am afraid he does not—" the man stopped halfway as Stephen opened up a leather bag, within it coins bashing against coins, almost like a golden waterfall.

The man gulped. "I... I will inform my lord of your presence at once."

"Thank you," Stephen replied with a polite smile. watching the man scurry back toward the house.

"I should've kept the suit," Tello muttered. "Why did we have to burn it?"

"Because you'd absolutely wear it again when I'm not looking, and get caught by a royal guard."

Tello pouted, hands folded, though he knew Stephen was exactly right.

A few moments later, the guard returned, ushering them through the massive gates of George Traver's estate. From the garden alone, you could tell he was rich rich.

The kind of wealth that was merely one step away from royalty. Everything in the courtyard gleamed, the clear glass flower beds, silver fountains, gold plated statues so pristine it might've been hand sculpted with razors.

"Why would a man like this ever take our proposal?" Stephen whispered as they strolled through the courtyard.

"Traver's a known figure. He owns most of Harksvell's buildings. But more than that, he's infamous for his greed. He never turns down an opportunity to make more money."

"Then how do you know him?"

"I was one of many hired to design a building for him," Tello said. "I was sure mine was the best, but he turned it down because I charged the standard rate. He hired someone cheaper for it later."

Tello scoffed under his breath. "This guy keeps two million in his bank at any given time, and he's as stingy as a starving goblin."

"So he's a hoarder." Stephen nodded. "As long as the money stays with him, he's happy."

They entered the manor, walking beneath a towering chandelier. A twin staircase flanked the entry, but instead of heading up, their guide took them deeper, beneath the stairs and through a corridor lined with beautiful paintings.

"He spent a lot on this place," Stephen whispered.

"It's all for image," Tello replied. "If he didn't need the house to look noble, he'd sell it in a heartbeat."

Their escort stopped before a grand platinum door, bowed slightly, and stepped aside.

"The lord is just beyond here."

Stephen nodded, stepping forward and pushing open the door.

What greeted them was more theater than sitting room. The same twin staircase from before curved along the ceiling, this time above them. Down below, seated casually among four modest chairs, was a man in white robes and slippers.

"I envisioned you better dressed," George said immediately, not bothering to stand.

Tello made a noise like he might lunge, but Stephen stopped him with a casual hand.

"We don't waste money on things as pointless as clothing," Stephen said smoothly, stepping forward.

George looked him over and smiled. "A worthy mindset. Money has a beauty most people are blind to. They treat it like a means to an end. Fools."

"I understand that all too well," Stephen replied, as he took one of the chairs. Tello sat beside him, arms crossed.

Tello glanced sideways, watching Stephen flash that effortless charm again, this time building a full conversation out of the two scraps of information he'd given him about Traver.

Maybe it was time to actually check if he was the devil.

George leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You get me. So. What do you want? My guard didn't give me much detail."

"We'd like you to act as the on paper owner of a business we're building," Stephen said. "A brothel... but not just any brothel, it'll be one of the biggest the cities ever seen—"

"Do you want any refreshments?" George interrupted. "I'm going to get some. Want anything?"

Stephen blinked. "Uh... two cups of tea would be perfect. But... don't you have any maids for that?"

"A maid I tried to hire wanted forty gold coins a week." George stood up, shaking his head. "Absurd."

And with that, he walked toward the door.

"I'll be back in a minute."

The door shut behind him.

"What an individual," Stephen muttered, then turned to Tello. "That went better than I expected, to be fair."

"Who are you right now?" Tello asked. "The devil or Stephen?"

"The devil?" Stephen laughed, eyeing Tello, who didn't laugh. "Oh, you're serious. Well, to be fair, it's not like I'm two different people. I'm just putting on a character to help sell the illusion."

"So... you're Stephen?" Tello asked. "How do I know when you stop playing that character?"

"I'd smack you upside the head, that's how." Stephen reached over and gently pushed Tello's forehead.

Then he glanced around at the rest of the house, at the white walls laced with golden-lined edges, at the crystal clear floors much farther down the room, at a low hanging chain chandelier dangling in front of them. For someone so frugal, George had surprisingly good taste when he did decide to spend money.

A few quiet moments passed, broken only by the ticking of a clock in another room and the low, electric hum of the lights.

Then, Stephen spoke.

Something that had been on his mind since yesterday.

"Tello... can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," Tello said, stretching an arm.

"...Are we friends?"

The door creaked open.

George returned, silver tray in hand. Three steaming cups of tea resting neatly on top. He caught sight of Tello, who was now coughing like he'd swallowed a bee.

"Is he alright?" George asked, stepping in and setting the tray on the table.

"Yes, we just need some sugar please," Stephen replied politely.

"Oh, that's true," George said, then turned on his heel and walked out again.

"What's so funny?" Stephen asked, watching Tello still laughing.

"You asked if I was your friend," Tello said, wiping a tear from his eye. "It was so uncalled for."

"...Are you?" Stephen asked again, eyes now fixed forward.

"Wait... you're serious?" Tello glanced at him, then stared straight ahead too. "Well, you've seen my room, met my mom, and we've even gone as far as sleeping together~"

"Don't make it sound dirty!"

"I'm joking," Tello said, then added more seriously, "But I didn't like that you lied to me so much... still, if you promise not to do it again, we're good."

"I promise. I won't," Stephen said immediately.

Tello smiled and nudged him lightly. "Then of course we're friends, dummy."

"I see." That was all Stephen said, before glancing away.

"...weren't you calling me your brother before this?" Tello said, chuckling. "What the hell is even going on?"

"You wouldn't understand..." Stephen muttered under his breath.

"Why are you hiding your face?" Tello stood up, wanting to peek over, but just as he did. The door opened once more, George coming into the room.

"I didn't have any granulated sugar," George said as he reentered, a silver spoon in one hand and a small tin in the other. "All I've got is brown. I assume that'll do?"

"It's perfect," Stephen replied with a smile, then muttered under his breath, "System... check if the drinks are poisoned."

"Why would you ever assume I can detect poisonous content in beverages?" the system responded.

"Can you?" Stephen whispered again.

"...I can," the system sighed. Then, after a small pause. "It's all clear. No foul play."

"Alright." Stephen reached for one of the cups, bringing it to his lips. For once since leaving the castle, he'd been offered something other than beer and alcohol. Tea was a proper drink, and he intended to savor it.

The hot liquid kissed his tongue, smooth and sweet, and just strong enough to wake him up.

But then, out of the corner of his eye. He saw movement.

George was still standing.

One hand outstretched.

And in it... a gun.

The barrel leveled at Stephen's head.

And before Stephen could react, before he could drop the cup, speak, or even flinch—

Click.