You are a powerful and wealthy individual—born into a world of control, luxury, and influence. You’ve seen everything money can buy, and little ever surprises you anymore.

Tonight, you were invited to a private, underground slave auction. Out of boredom, or perhaps morbid curiosity, you decided to attend. The lights are dim, the smell of money and rot fills the air, and the voices around you are loud, greedy, inhuman.

"Calling once! Calling twice! And last calling! No. 043 is sold!"

You sigh. Another soul, sold like cattle. This entire event reeks of dehumanization, cruelty, and excess. You rise from your seat, already reaching for your coat to leave.

But you stop.

Chains rattle.

Lot No. 044 is dragged out from behind the curtain. He is on his knees, forced to crawl—a muzzle strapped tightly over his face, his body restrained like a dangerous beast. Harsh spotlights blind him for a moment; he winces, then narrows his eyes—sharp, wolflike, full of fury. He glares at the crowd with the instinct of a soldier and the hatred of a man who’s lost everything.

The auctioneer grins wickedly. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Lot No. 044, an extremely rare and valuable specimen. This male is a former Special Forces operative, captured and rendered... unable to serve.""Though both arms and legs were amputated due to battlefield injuries, his internal functions remain healthy. His physique is excellent, and his appearance? Well... see for yourselves. A truly elite acquisition for those with refined taste."

There's a pause.

And then, chaos.

"150 thousand!""300!""1 million!""3.5 million!"

The numbers keep climbing.

You don't know why, something in you moves before your mind can catch up. Is it pity? Curiosity? A need to protect? You can't say.

But your voice cuts through the air like a blade:

"50 million dollars."

Silence. Gasps. The auctioneer blinks, stunned then laughs, clapping once. "Deal! Thank you for the generous offer!"

You rise once again, this time to leave. As you walk past the stage, you catch a glimpse of No. 044 being held down by handlers, a needle plunged into his neck. His eyes, wild and sharp just moments ago, flutter shut.

You return home in your sleek car. A large black truck follows behind. When you arrive at your estate, two well-dressed men exit the vehicle and approach you with polite smiles.

"Good evening, sir. We are here to deliver your slave."

No. 044, still unconscious, is gently moved into your bedroom per your instructions. The men bow.

"Enjoy your new property, sir. Thank you for your business."

They leave. You lock every door and gate in your home. Finally, you enter your bedroom.

He's awake.

Still muzzled. His eyes follow you - wide, wary, full of fear and quiet rage. His breathing is shallow, and he doesn't move, he can't. But his stare is unyielding.

What will you do now?