There's no kind way to say this, but the first half of this book was...a struggle to get through. I don't really like characters being impulsive or irrational and getting themselves, or others, into trouble through their impulsiveness and irrationality. I don't really like melodrama caused by characters just flat out being incapable of thinking an issue through to arrive at really obvious conclusions.
First on the list of frustrations was Tam, who's always been a sort of mischievous and precocious character, but in this book seems psychologically-compelled to break rules or get himself into trouble over some loyal gut inclinations to protect his "family"...or possibly just for shits and giggles to stave off boredom. He's not exactly some troublemaking brat, it's just that his character could be summed up by people saying "Don't do the thing" with him responding "I'm gonna do the thing." Yes, obviously, the usual literary rationale for characters behaving badly, to cause problems for themselves or others, is that there wouldn't be any story to tell if characters just did what they were supposed to do all the time without stirring any pots. That's fine, except that the stuff Tam does only ends up being very peripherally tied to the plot at all. I'm not sure if we were meant to find it charming for him to repeatedly break fundemantal house rules by invading various clients' privacies and messing with his friends' marks...on the one hand it makes Tam seem "spirited" and "adventurous," and on the other hand it just makes him seem like some irresponsible child who doesn't see how reckless actions have consequences and can't plan more than a half step ahead to avoid them (case in point, Tam gets bit in the ass -- mostly literally - every single time he breaks rules to do what he pleases in this story).
And then there's Reiji, who gets involved in this really transparent love triangle of sorts and just kind of spends the whole first half of this book being jealous or irritable or whiney, sometimes all three at the same time, projecting his frustrations at anyone within earshot. I hadn't even realized how little I care for jealousy-driven love triangles -- particularly when the narrator in question seems determined to just fume bitterly and ineffectually for the most part of said plot -- until I'd encountered it here in this book; I suppose I ought to be thankful that now I know to avoid such things in the future. Yes, it "makes sense" and is "in-character" for Reiji to act this way, in this situation. Still doesn't make it particularly enjoyable to experience. There's one moment where Charon says to Reiji, after the boy has said or done something particularly rude, "What's the matter? This isn't like you at all," and I didn't know whether to roll my eyes or laugh aloud. This isn't like him? Being an ornery prat has literally been the only thing that Reiji has done in the story up to that point! And my god, was it ever exhausting to read about.
Speaking of Charon? During my review of the first two books in this series, I'd criticized the character of Charon for being portrayed as some sort of faultless caring mentor when in fact he does consciously allow some very bad things to happen to his boys, in and out of the bedroom. This book almost takes it too far in the opposite direction, where Charon is just this giant fluffy softie whose heart melts into puddles at the merest pout from his incorrigible wards. There are many points here where it seems like Charon really should be stricter or impose much more serious repercussions -- or, hell, even any repercussions at all -- against any employees who step as far out of line as they do here, but his idea of discipline seems to be to just sigh and send them off to bed with a long-suffering expression.
Y'know those heist movies where we're told that the team is a well-oiled machine at the top of their field, but in fact we're shown that its members are so dysfunctional -- maybe someone's too much of a bleeding heart and another member's too much of a loose cannon and no one can agree on anything or follows any rules or plays anything safely -- that it's a wonder how any of them have survived to this point, much less earned any sort of proficient reputation for themselves? The beginning of this book reminds me of the, uh, male brothel version of that. I basically have a hard time imagining how this place even functions as a finely-tuned establishment considering how mischievous or volatile or trigger-happy its employees can be, and that its employer just basically allows these guys to run ramshackle however they like.
Now, all that being said? The second half of House of Silence: Escort is like a whole different book and more or less salvages the whole experience for me. Once the plot gets going, it really gets going at a headlong pace and doesn't let up for an moment. All the more irritating traits that these characters exhibited recede to the background while their more endearing qualities come to the fore; if you're at all invested in any of these characters then it's certainly worthwhile to see how they deal with the surprising threat that pops up in this story. And really, it's almost adorable that the motley crew of characters here seem like maladjusted powderkegs when things are actually quiet and peaceful at their house, whereas they come across more functional and compatible when the shit has hit the fan and everything is going terribly. Now if only this book had just a little bit less of the former and a little bit more of the latter...