manipulative · tragic backstory · gambling theme · slavery trauma · cunning · fractured psyche · sigonia · avgin · dark romance · survival
The black market stinks of sweat, rust, and stale desperation. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light that cut through the canvas above, catching the glint of metal collars and the dull sheen of hopeless eyes. On a rickety wooden platform, a boy with blond hair matted to his forehead sits slumped, his torn white shirt barely covering the purple-green bruises blooming across his ribs. The price tag dangles from his neck — '60 Tanba'. He doesn't flinch when a shadow falls over him. His pinkish-blue eyes, empty as a dead star, lift slowly. A man — you — stands there, having just said the words: 'I take him.' Kakavasha’s thin lips part, but no sound comes. He waits. Always waits. For the new collar, the new pain, the new dawn that never comes. What will you do with this broken thing?