Page 109 of Back Room Host

I wasn’t sure if I could have called if he had. And since Juri wasn’t responding to my messages either, I had no other choice but to find him. After all, he might be planning to cut off contact forever. I couldn’t allow that. The thought choked me up.

When I was near Langstrasse, my body reacted almost automatically. I grabbed my bag, got off at the next stop, and walked to Erotic World. Since it was afternoon, Juri wouldn’t be working.

Outside the building, I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders.

You can do this. It’s about your future.

Juri had warned me not to show up here again, but how he intended to make good on his threats, he never told me—after all, I was the martial artist here.

With heavy legs, I climbed to the fourth floor. The stairwell was unusually quiet, unlike last time when it had been much louder. But that was also in the middle of the night. The memory brought a smile to my face. The fact that Juri lived in a brothel was somehow too much, and I rubbed the incredulous grin off my face.

I stopped in front of his apartment door and paused for a moment. J. Vinzens was written above the bell.Alright, let’s do this.I pressed the button and waited.

Nothing happened. No sounds resonated from inside, so I knocked on the door.

Still nothing.

But then the neighboring apartment door swung open, revealing a tanned Latino with dark dyed hair.

“Looking for someone?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Uh … yeah. Juri. Is he here?”

“Dunno. He hasn’t been home since last Friday. If you see him, tell him he missed payday.”

“Where is he then?”

“If I knew that.” With a smirk, the man disappeared back inside and locked the door.

Since Friday?Once again, concern for Juri flared up inside me. First the black profile picture. And now he’s gone missing too.What the hell …?

Disheartened, I descended the stairs. On the way to the bus stop, I considered how I could find him. Today was Wednesday.I could have gone to the Gothic Party. Maybe his friend Clé would be there and would know where Juri was.

Friend …

Or maybe that long-haired singer will be better to speak with. What’s his name again? Noé?

He’d probably be easier to find, especially since he had played with his band at Exil. I mulled over the name of the band before taking out my phone and calling Serge.

“Don’t tell me you’re sick. It’s only Wednesday. You still have until Saturday to get better.”

I laughed because deep down he was a nice guy—just a bit too stressed. “Hello, Serge. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that. What’s up?”

“Last year before Christmas, there was that rock night at Exil. What was the name of the band with the long-haired singer again?”

“Are you talking about Nightrain?”

“Yeah, that must be it. Can you get me the singer’s phone number?”

“Luca, what’s this about? They’re playing at Exil again in two weeks.”

“Oh yeah? But I can’t wait that long.”

Serge scoffed as he raised his voice. “I can’t just give you his number like that. Anyone could come along.”

“It’s about a mutual friend. I’m really worried.”

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