Andrew quickly realized that in Dream Paradise, the so-called foreign masseuses that everyone raved about were not actually imported at all.

They were just local girls wrapped up in fancy packaging, and they only knew a handful of common phrases. Yet, somehow, their broken Eastonian still managed to charm young men into emptying their wallets just for a chance to be here.

Sighing, Andrew muttered, "Man, ignorance is a scary thing."

The woman on his left immediately switched gears, dropping her fake accent and blurting out in a thick, local dialect, "Oh, come on, big guy! Are you looking down on us or what? Once you get a massage, you have to pay up—our boss will mess you up if you don't!"

The one on his right chimed in, her accent just as heavy, "Exactly! You're acting all stingy and won't even go for the premium options—what's up with that?"

"You're the first guy I've ever seen who came here just for a plain old massage. Are you sure it's not a performance issue?"

Andrew d