His Royal Highness's cats are very hairy.

Millet started working at the Royal Palace when he was 12 years old, not long ago.

When I hear about working in the royal palace, most people put a white front on a dark green uniform and think of a woman snuggling at a king or a queen.

Millet was no exception. Imagining myself creeping down the polished hallway of the royal palace with white ceramic tea utensils, I was inflating my chest to my expectations, but there's no way Millet, who is neither learned nor of his low stature, could be a woman. Naturally.

Millet's job was to polish the floor even further down the bottom of the female officers who looked after the kings, the female officers who looked after them, and the female officers who looked after them.

'If you go to the Royal Palace, you may see the Heavenly Horse, sister,' my brother said, but the Royal Palace is so large that you don't even know where the King or Heavenly Horse is and where the outer gardens the knights train. Without time to grasp where or where, Millet polished the floor on both the coming and coming days.

"Hey, Millet, come here."

"What?

One day, Millet was secretly called behind the water field by his youngest companion, Melsa. Melsa is about the same age as Millet, she became the youngest at the same time, best friend.

"What's going on?

"My brother's apprenticing in the cooking area. So, look!

When Melsa opened the oil paper with concern for the human eye, there was a roll of white, round sugar sweets there.

"What is this?

Millet keeps an eye out. How cute. It's like a star spilled from the night sky.

"Even a treat called star sugar. I'll split you a grain."

"Are you sure?

"Don't tell me?

Millet and Melsa cheek the little sugar treat on their fingers at the same time.

"... sweet!

"Stars are delicious!

Millet and Melsa laugh.

The royal palace can make more money, although they've come to say that the job is tight and the lower head is scary, and in fact Millet regretted coming to the royal palace just a little bit.

But if I hadn't come to the royal palace, I wouldn't have eaten such delicious food all my life. It could have been worth coming to the royal palace if they had just eaten this grain.

Some nights I miss the narrow sleeping area where I stuck with my siblings, but let's do our best.

That's how Millet got used to his new life.

Millet grew up on the outskirts of the Wang capital, a city lined with liquor and beating shops and whorehouses.

The front streets were busy with drunk men singing shoulder to shoulder and flashly dressed whores chilling out the dewstores with their guests, but if you step into the back streets, it's insecure, and theft and fights are at everyday tea time.

In such a corner of the city, there was a whorehouse where Millet's parents worked. Not as good as the righteous luxury whorehouse the aristocrats go to, but there in the big one, Millet's father was a martin, and his mother was a bribe who cooked meals for the whores.

The child is five brothers, a brother, a brother, a brother and a sister, with Millet as their head.

My parents were honest and working, but the problem was that people were too good anyway.

Even though my family is the best at eating, I would easily spend money if people asked me to, and even though my colleagues are ticking my salary, 'cause that guy's house is sick', I pretend not to realize it.

Of course, the family's livelihood did not stand in such parents' earned money, and by the time I was 10, Millet had also started working downstairs in their parents' working whorehouse.

"Morning, Millet"

"Good morning, Mr. Dahlia. Soup, please!"

It's before noon that the whores who make money at night wake up. It was Millet's role to distribute bread and soup made by his mother to them. Then it's Millet's job to collect the dirt from the whores and wash it.

"Millet, wash this."

"Nice to meet you too."

"Yes!"

"Sister Millet, I'm hungry ah"

"Let's get the rest of the bread at Mom's when this is over!

"Sister, pee"

"Stay in the garden!

Millet dawned when he puts on his baby sister and fights a ton of laundry every day in the whorehouse backyard taking care of his younger brothers who brought snot.

When my life was busy enough to turn my eyes on me for less than a year. The incident took place.

A guest in the room waiting for a familiar whore to arrive dragged the millet he had taken with him to his bedroom.

"What are you doing to Millet!!

It was Dahlia, the whore who was taking guests in the next room, who helped Millet scream.

Dahlia ran half-naked, just wrapped a cloth around her busty body, kicking unquestioned guests horseback riding in Millet as she tried to escape.

The guests had been drunk and had easily rolled to the floor, and other whores had gathered to hear the noise while they were standing up.

"You pervert! I can't believe you got your hands on a kid!

"Gess! Fuck you! Just kidding!"

"Get the hell out of here! Don't ever come again!

The whores' anger was tremendous, and the shoe - and the higher-heeled part - slapped the man, the one who threw a bottle of wine, the one who simply punched the man in the face with his fist, and when the lower man in charge of security rushed, the man clung to the lower man with this (ho) body, "Help me".

You go to the royal palace.

The day after the incident, as usual, I called Millet to gather dirt and go around, and Dahlia said.

"Is it the royal palace?

All of a sudden, Millet can only open his mouth with Pocan.

"I have a visitor who is familiar with me who once lived in the royal palace. I'll ask him to work in the royal palace."

"But my mother will be in trouble when I'm gone..."

When Millet is gone, families earn less. Besides, who's going to take care of my brother and sister?

To the hesitant Millet, Dahlia said.

"You can make a lot more money working in the Royal Palace than working here. Take care of the little ones. Just look at your little brother right below you."

"But..."

"Do you want to work in a whorehouse?

The young Millet also found out that what Dahlia said about 'working' was not referring to salaries or laundry.

Last night's fear comes back.

Man's blood-running eyes.

Hands that have been stretched.

Even if you don't know what you're going to do, it's instinctively scary and horrible anyway, and Millet screamed.

Do such fears and Dahlia and the whores confront each other every night?

"I..."

Millet leaned over.

I don't want to work. But with that being said, wouldn't it be an affront to the work of Dahlia and the others?

Dahlia smiled softly, as she realized inside Millet's chest.

"You're sweet, Millet."

That's what I said, Dahlia stroked Millet's head.

Gentle, gentle.

The tenderness made Millet want to cry because he was sad for some reason.

"I don't think all the whores are unhappy. But if you can eat anywhere but in a whorehouse, that's better."

My mother told me later that Dahlia had a daughter the same age as Millet. Immediately after his birth, the child suffered from a severe illness, and Dahlia became a whore to make the cost of the medicine. But the money that Dahlia made disappeared into Dahlia's husband's liquor bill, and he didn't help his daughter in the end.

"Good luck."

"Yes!"

That's what Dahlia said the day she broke up and sent Millet away.

Millet, who later remembered the letter, wrote to Dahlia from time to time, but never received a reply.