The battered red door was one many in the city recognized, but few ventured through unless it was in the wee hours of morning. A brothel, after all, was not a reputable place for anyone reputable. And yet, with the sun shining bright overhead on a warm spring day, a young man in a fine silk suit strode through the door without so much as a surreptitious look behind him.

The Madame who ran the business sat in the entryway behind an old wooden desk. She was running her fingers lazily along the inlay when she heard the door swing open. She hastily draped her shawl over her large bosom, but relaxed once she recognized the face. "Mister Abbot! Lovely to see you, as always."

Charles Abbot tipped his hat and smiled. He was young and handsome—no older than 25, with a curl of jet-black hair that crawled out from under the brim of his hat like wild vines—and a regular visitor to her brothel. But not in the usual sense.

"Good day, Madame. I've heard that Lady Melissa has an interesting one for me," Charles said, his eyes trailing to the space behind the Madame. The narrow hallway led to the rooms where the girls saw their customers, but there was also a set of stairs that led up to the second floor where many of the girls lived.

"Oh yes, she does. And she was in the room with all the mirrors—the angles you get will be absolutely lovely."

"Wonderful. Shall I...?"

"Yes, yes, she should be up in her room." The Madame gestured with her brightly painted nails towards the staircase.

Charles took his hat and briefcase and walked up the stairs to the second floor, a place where most guests were forbidden. But again, he wasn't here for the usual stuff. He had other business to attend to.

Melissa was waiting for him in the upstairs hallway. "Mister Abbot!" she said, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. She wasn't done up as she usually was at night—no rouge or bright lips or dark eyes—but clean-faced with her curly blond hair wrapped up in a scarf and an old silk dressing gown around her curvy frame.

"Lovely to see you, Melissa," Charles said. He had never worked with her before, but he had seen her in passing on his other trips to the brothel. She had likely heard from the other girls about his talent. Or perhaps from other customers. Most people in the city knew who he was. His talents were unique, which made him a hot commodity.

"You as well, Mister Abbot. Please, come inside—and excuse the mess," she said, drawing him into her private chamber.

Her room was small. There was a tiny bed, a dresser overflowing with lacy things, and a vanity cluttered with make-up and perfume. She offered him the tattered stool beneath the vanity while she sat on the bed, cross-legged and waiting for his instruction.

Charles smiled kindly at the girl as he opened his briefcase, revealing several small glass bottles engraved with strange symbols. She looked at them with wide eyes—particularly the ones with swirling gas inside them that glowed blood red or river blue. But Charles ignored the glowing vials and instead pulled one of the empty ones out and set it on the vanity.

"So," he said, "let me explain just a little bit about what's going to happen. It's not a painful process, although it might feel a bit strange—intrusive is the word most people use to describe it. But if you take a deep breath and focus, it will be over quickly."

Melissa nodded quickly, clearly eager to begin.

Charles held in a chuckle. Most of his first-time clients were just like Melissa, a mix of nerves and excitement, which is why he did his best to put them all at ease. "All you need to do is focus on the memory. Think about it as best you can. That will direct me to it so I can grab a copy. And once it's here, in my little bottle," he said, waggling the vial, "I'll go through it in more detail and come up with a final price for you." He looked at her, inviting her to ask any clarifying questions.

"How much do you think it'll be worth—roughly?" Melissa asked, rubbing her hands on her thighs. "Jaclyn said she got 300 for hers."

Charles wanted to tell her that Jaclyn had trained with the circus for ten years and that her acrobatics had led to an increase in value, but instead he said, "That's true. I paid her 300. But that's on the high end. I think a more reasonable estimate would be between 150 and 250. It's hard to be more precise until I take a look. Does that sound fair?"

Melissa nodded, her gaze flitting around the room. Charles guessed that she was sizing up her items, wondering what she could buy with that much money. "Yes. I trust you, Mister Abbot. Let's do it."

"Okay." Charles picked up the empty bottle and then took her hand. "Close your eyes and think of the memory."

Melissa shut her eyes tight, causing little creases to form at the edges of her bare lids. And then Charles began to work.

It felt like a rush, entering the mind of another. One second he was in the bedroom, and the next it was like he was caught in a strong current, getting tossed about by all the thoughts and memories around him. But he had done this many times before—he knew how to brave the current and find the memory Melissa was clinging to. It shone like silver, standing out from amongst all the grey. He latched onto it—memories were slippery, so he had to work fast. He saw a few flashes of naked flesh, knew he was in the right place, and then coaxed the memory to multiply, split in half, so he could take a copy for himself and channel it into the vial in his hand.

When he was done, he opened his eyes. The whole process had taken only seconds. Melissa's eyes were wide, her pupils dilated from the rush, but otherwise appeared fine. She was looking at the bottle in his hand intently, at the soft pink hue emanating from the glass.

"Do you feel all right?" Charles asked, turning to his briefcase and pulling out another object. It looked like a golden magnifying glass, but the edges were engraved with the same strange runes as the bottle, and the handle was fashioned to look like a feather.

"Yes. It was... I feel a little more alive, if that makes any sense."

"That's normal," Charles explained. "That feeling should resolve in a few minutes." He held the magnifying glass to his eye and looked at the bottle. "Just give me a moment."

Melissa sat impatiently as Charles scried, playing through the images Melissa had shared so he could come up with a price. The Madame had been right—the mirrors in the room did enhance the experience.

He put the magnifying glass down.

"Well?" Melissa asked, nervously fiddling with her thumbs.

Charles nodded. "It looks good." At Melissa's elated face, he held up a finger. "Now, I will have to do a bit of editing—the gentleman in there probably doesn't want his face broadcast around town, so I will have to make some modifications to keep his identity secret. And memories of these sort with men as the primary focus tend not to sell as well, so I'll need to make some tweaks to make him a bit less prominent. But overall, very nice." He reached into his wallet and started pulling out money. "How does 215 sound?"

"What about 250?" Melissa countered.

Charles gave her a look and Melissa blushed. However, he did increase his offer, knowing that he definitely had a market for a memory like this. "What about 225? You won't get any more out of me."

Melissa's eyes sparkled, clearly pleased. "Yes," she said, holding her hand out.

Charles pressed the money into her palm, and she quickly shoved it beneath her dressing gown. "Thank you, Mister Abbot." She leaned in and gave him another kiss. "Thank you very much."

"Thank you, Miss Melissa." Charles gathered his things back into his briefcase, making sure the memory and his magnifying glass were tucked safely away against the velvet lining, and then stood up. "I should be leaving now."

"Of course." Melissa stood up to escort him to the hallway. "Should I call on you again... if I have another one like this?"

"People are always looking for new and different experiences," Charles replied. "So if you have something good, feel free to contact me... But I will say, it's best if you wait a few weeks. People like novelty. You don't want your face to get boring."

"Right, right, of course," Melissa said, touching her cheek. "Will do, Mister Abbot. Will do."

Melissa escorted him as far as the landing. Then, with a tip of his hat, Charles started down the stairs.

The Madame heard his steps and turned to face him as he climbed downwards. "Pleased?" she asked him.

"Very," Charles said, passing her a tip, which she also tucked away beneath the folds of her clothes. "Some high-town boy who has never seen a woman before will be very pleased. I'll be sure to direct him over here when he grows enough of a pair to step through the door."

"Thank you very much, Mister Abbot. Your business is always appreciated here."

"As is yours, Madame. Good day." And with that, Charles walked out through the red door and into the sunshine, ready to head home for a bit of editing.