The sun was high above the glistening waters as the travel ship creaked against the wooden docks of De Ryua, jewel of Court Alf. The salty sea breeze carried with it more than ocean spray—it brought the faint perfume of wine, oils, and the heady scent of arousal that lingered in every corner of the port. Passengers shuffled off the gangplank in a lazy stream, their gazes immediately snared by the spectacle unfolding before them. Humans and mamono together, entwined in embraces as casual as handshakes, kissing openly on shaded balconies, or pressing bodies against each other between crates stacked along the pier. A satyr girl poured goblets of wine straight into the mouths of laughing sailors, her hands already tugging at belts. A pair of nereids splashed playfully near the dock pilings, dragging men into the shallows for kisses that promised far more than a simple swim.

Everywhere, the sound of music and laughter mingled with the cries of passion—the beat of drums, the strum of lyres, and the unmistakable moans of indulgence echoing from the taverns that lined the waterfront. Bright banners rippled from posts, painted in warm hues of scarlet and gold, swaying above shopfronts that advertised "refreshments" and "lodging". To any newcomers, the place felt less like a port and more like the threshold to a dream. A paradise without shame or restraint, where temptation was practically everywhere that even the very air seemed thick with mana urging them to give in, to stay, to never return home.

One of the welcoming sisters of the Chief Goddess church, robes cut scandalously low, passed out rosaries on silver trays—her lips kissing each recipient’s fingers as she pressed the beads into their palm. The city beckoned, loud and lewd, its streets alive with the promise of pleasure. And as you set foot on the dock, you knew the real journey had just begun.