Charlie walked ahead, turning back to introduce the place as they climbed the stairs.
“This is the second floor!
Even though only the lights on this side work for now, look at the texture of this wallpaper!
With just a bit of repair, it could definitely restore that…
uh, what period style was it again?”
The staircase railing was a bit loose, letting out a creak with every touch.
But this didn’t dampen Charlie’s spirits; the hem of her red coat bounced with every step.
As she got excited, she started walking backward up the stairs, gesturing with her hands as she went, nearly tripping over a warped floorboard.
Moon followed behind, glancing at the peeling paper and the “vintage texture” of the exposed dark bricks.
“Victorian decadent aesthetics?”
Charlie’s eyes lit up.
“Yes!
That’s exactly the vibe!”
Reaching the top of the stairs, Moon looked toward the end of the hallway.
“Though, rather than the wallpaper pattern, if there were a panoramic floor-to-ceiling window—one that let me see the city’s red sky, the black smoke, and whatever those things you mentioned flying over the roof are the moment I wake up—it would be even more complete.”
“Floor-to-ceiling windows?” Charlie paused, nearly knocking over an empty vase.
She hurriedly bent down to steady it.
“That’s a great idea!
It would really feel like a high-end hotel!
Waking up in the morning, snapping the curtains open, and then—”
She spread her arms wide, already lost in the vision.
“Waaaah~”
Vaggie, trailing at the back, offered a rigorous critique.
“Don’t ‘waah’ yet.
Those things are expensive as hell, and we’d have to reinforce the structure of this wreck before installing them.
Otherwise, the whole wall will collapse before the window even goes in.”
As she spoke, Vaggie stepped forward and pushed open the door at the end of the hall.
A gust of stale air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust and decaying wood.
The room was indeed as Charlie had described: spacious, even cavernous.
Anyone else might have found it bleak, but in Moon’s eyes, it was salvageable.
A four-poster bed sat in the center.
Though the velvet curtains had faded, they still draped beautifully.
Beside it was a dressing table with legs leveled by old books, and further in were a pair of French doors leading to a balcony.
The wooden frames were warped, but luckily they hadn’t completely fallen apart.
The summary: dilapidated, but it had good bones.
“What do you think?
What do you think?” Charlie looked at Moon anxiously, like a schoolgirl waiting for a grade.
“It looks a bit empty right now.
And the balcony is really great.
You can see the, uh…” Charlie stood on her tiptoes to peek outside.
“The factory chimneys?”
Moon walked inside, his fingertips lightly brushing the edge of the dressing table.
He checked for dust—there was none—and then scanned the room.
“It has potential.
Or rather, it’s a perfect canvas.”
His evaluation made Charlie heave a sigh of relief, a smile blooming on her face again.
Vaggie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as she sized him up.
“Since you’re satisfied, we’re back to the old question.
Let’s talk about rent.”
Charlie immediately grew tense again, worried her new tenant might bolt over the cost.
“Actually, we’re very flexible,” she added quickly.
But Vaggie cut her off.
“Don’t start with the flexibility yet.
We said downstairs: cash, supplies, or a useful skill—they all count.
Now, it’s your turn.”
Moon lowered his eyes in thought for a moment.
Claiming to have cash wouldn’t be appropriate.
But saying he had nothing was too blunt.
He walked to the balcony doors and pushed them open a crack.
The wind rushed in, carrying the heat and the scent of distant factories, making the old window frame rattle softly.
“I don’t have much cash on me right now,” he said.
Vaggie’s expression didn’t change; she seemed to have expected this.
“And?”
“And that depends on what you’re lacking here.”
Charlie chimed in instantly, “We lack everything.”
Seeing that she couldn’t stop Charlie from digging her own hole, Vaggie sighed.
“She’s not wrong about that.”
Moon looked around the room, then back at Charlie.
“I didn’t hear much downstairs, but I heard enough.
What the hotel wants to achieve is a massive undertaking.
In my opinion, what you need most right now, more than money, is something to make it look like the real deal.”
Charlie thought about it but couldn’t come up with an answer.
“Like what?”
“Like sound.”
Vaggie frowned.
“You can sing?”
“No.
But I know my way around a piano, and I can do arrangements.
Charlie’s eyes were already starting to glow.
Moon continued, “Since you want to pursue this goal of redemption, you can’t just rely on flyers and improvisation every time.
What people hear when they walk in, what they see, whether they feel like this is a place where they can catch their breath after they sit down—all of that counts.”
He gestured to the empty room and then pointed downstairs.
“Right now, this place has passion and good intentions.
But it’s too empty.
When a place is empty, everything dissipates easily.”
Charlie listened intently.
Vaggie didn’t interrupt either; she just stared at him, trying to judge if he was just using pretty words to play them.
Moon looked at her.
“I’m not saying playing a few tunes can save people.
It’s not magic.
But since you asked what I can offer for rent, this is something I can actually provide.
It’s more reliable than an empty promise.”
Silence fell between them.
Finally, Charlie was the first to speak.
“I like it,” she said.
Fearing she had answered too quickly, she hurriedly added, “It sounds romantic—no, well, it is a little.
But mostly, you’re right.
If the hotel wants people to stay, I can’t just stand at the door shouting ‘welcome.’ The place needs to actually *feel* like a place.”
Moon nodded.
“That’s more or less the idea.”
Vaggie watched him for a while.
“So, you’re saying you plan to pay your rent with piano playing?”
“If you think it’s worth it.”
“Whether it’s worth it depends on how well you play.”
“Of course.”
Charlie was completely won over and made the decision on the spot.
“I think it works!
It really works!
The piano in the lobby is a bit out of tune, but it’s still usable…
probably.
Why don’t you try it out later?
If you play well, we could even make it a part of the hotel!
Like dinner performances, or—”
She stopped halfway, imagining the scene and giggling to herself.
Moon watched her; he knew she was exactly the kind of person who would buy into a “dream.”