I didn't know how long I'd been out. Time had stopped meaning anything long ago.
When I woke again, I wasn't chained to the wall anymore. No… This was worse.
I was on display.
My knees pressed against cold marble, my wrists bound behind her back in heavy shackles. A thick iron collar now locked around my throat. My head hung low, too heavy to lift. My body—cleaned, clothed in a thin silk dress—but she felt filthy.
Blinding lights burned above me, searing my vision. The hum of an eager, murmuring crowd echoed from every direction.
I forced my heavy head to tilt up, squinting through the light. Rows upon rows of velvet seats stretched before me, filled with masked nobles, government officers, and distant silhouettes of figures cloaked in wealth.
They'd paid to be here. Paid to see me sold.
And behind them, like vultures circling, the World Government's brokers stood in their sterile white coats, marking ledgers and whispering final valuations.
The masked man from before stood at the platform's edge, a hand raised to silence the crowd as the bidding began.
"Lot 47," he announced smoothly. "Recovered specimen from Ohara. Untouched by Devil Fruit corruption… yet bloodmarked by the Tree of Knowledge itself. A rare scholar's offspring. And most importantly—"
He let the words hang as he turned toward me, smiling behind that gilded mask.
"—a survivor."
The crowd stirred, murmurs growing louder.
The man let them build until the noise reached its peak, then raised his hand again.
"Opening bid: fifty million berries."
My breath hitched.
And there it was. My price.
My fists clenched behind my back until my nails dug into my palms, the iron biting deeper into my wrists.
Not yet, I told myself. Not yet… but soon. Because if I ever got free—
This whole place was going to burn.
"Fifty million," the masked handler repeated smoothly, voice echoing through the golden auction hall. "Do I hear fifty-five?"
A gloved hand rose without hesitation from the left balcony.
"Fifty-five million," the broker confirmed, his voice a purr of satisfaction.
The crowd shifted again, more hands going up now—
Sixty…
Seventy…
Seventy-five…
I kept my eyes half-lidded, my body trembling from the strain of kneeling so long, but I listened—memorized every voice, every face I could make out through the blur of heat and light.
The numbers climbed higher, climbing toward impossible heights I hadn't even known lives could be priced at.
"One hundred million," another voice called from the upper tier. I remember that voice. It was from the Celestial Dragon that had that private showing. Bustard! Was this all planned? Why spend so much, if this was just a play?
The murmuring stopped like a blade had cut through it. Even the masked handler faltered, glancing toward the source.
Slowly… a new figure stood in the shadows of the high box. Not cloaked in velvet like the others. Not draped in jewels or medals.
But marked.
The emblem of the Celestial Dragons shimmered faintly on the chain hanging across the figure's chest.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Brokers leaned in, scribbling frantic notes.
The masked handler cleared his throat, composing himself.
"One hundred million… claimed by Lord Galathos of House Vacuo."
The name hung like lead in the air. Even my blood went cold.
I heard that name once before.
Whispers… in the darkness of that ship. Of the other girls taken before me.
The chains around my throat suddenly felt heavier than iron. Colder than death.
The masked handler struck the gavel with a sharp clang, sealing the bid.
"Sold."
I closed my eyes, sucking in a trembling breath through clenched teeth.
My fate had just locked into place alongside those other girls.
And deep in my chest… A slow-burning fire began to curl tighter around my soul.
They didn't parade me through the front. No.
The guards came quietly after the auction ended, their hands practiced, movements efficient. I didn't resist—not because I given up, but because I was waiting.
Waiting for them to make a mistake.
My legs nearly buckled as they forced me down a private corridor behind the platform. The collar chafed with every breath. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood again, just to stay grounded. Just to feel something that still belonged to me.
Through gilded halls. Through stone courtyards. To a sleek, private carriage bearing the Vacuo family crest—a serpent devouring its own tail.
They pushed me inside without ceremony, chaining my ankles to the floor and bolting the door behind me. The carriage was dark, lined with crimson velvet and gold filigree. Not a single window.
No way to tell how far or how long the ride was.
The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint creak of the wheels and the distant hum of the Holy Land above.
I knew where I was. The main city of Mary Geoise. The home of monsters in human skin.
---
The carriage eventually slowed then stopped.
Keys rattled on the other side of the door. Light spilled in, sharp and blinding.
The guards yanked me out roughly and marched me through towering, pearl-white gates into a sprawling estate nestled high on the cliffs overlooking the lower districts.
Marble statues lined the path. All of them broken women. All of them posed like animals, draped in iron and gold.
My stomach twisted.
They dragged me inside, past silk curtains and obsidian floors, down a narrow spiral stairwell into the servant's wing—if you could call it that.
Steel doors lined the corridor. Cells, disguised as "quarters."
They unlocked the last one at the end and shoved me inside.
I stumbled, catching myself on trembling knees, the collar's weight dragging my head low again.
The door slammed shut behind me with a final, brutal clang.
But I wasn't alone.
Slowly… Three pairs of eyes turned toward me from the shadows of the cell.
All chained. All watching me in breathless, guarded silence.
I raised my head, bloodied lips curling into a weak, bitter smile.
"…Tch… Looks like I made it after all."
The silence hung thick, almost suffocating.
The cell smelled of iron, sweat, and blood—old and fresh. A small oil lamp flickered in the corner, casting long, shaky shadows on the cracked stone walls.
I forced myself to my feet, every movement slow and stiff from the punishment I'd taken. But my eyes—sharp, dark, and unbroken—never wavered as I took in the three figures watching me from the far side of the cell.
A girl a little older than me with long black hair, sat with her back pressed to the wall, one knee drawn up to her chest, arms chained loosely at her sides. Blood streaked her lip, her temple bruised a deep purple, but her eyes… her eyes burned. Cold. Controlled. But burning.
A girl with golden red hair crouched protectively in front of her sister, the youngest of the three. Her arms were raw with rope burns, her cheek swollen from a fresh hit. But even in that pain, her fingers twitched slightly, as if itching to fight again.
And the girl with teal-colored hair—
Tall. Tense. Coiled like a snake waiting to strike. Her blue eyes locked onto me like she was trying to peel me apart without moving a muscle.
I didn't flinch. I let them stare. Let them see me.
I took another step forward, tugging my arms slightly to test the chains, the collar biting harder into my throat with every breath.
None of them spoke.
Until the girl with the black hair finally broke the silence.
"…You're new."
Her voice was hoarse, sharp, but laced with something I recognized instantly—
Resentment. Not toward me. But toward them. The ones who chained them all.
I let out a breath, almost a laugh. Low and bitter. "Guess I am."
The three sisters exchanged glances, their bruised expressions sharpening—not with pity…
…but with curiosity.
Because they'd seen what broken looked like. They'd lived it. And I… I didn't look broken.
I looked like a match waiting for a spark.
The black haired girl leaned forward slightly, her chained hands curling into fists. "What's your name?"
I licked the blood from my split lip, tilting my chin higher despite the collar's bite.
"…Raven."
The girl stared a moment longer, her expression unreadable. And then, quietly, like a blade sliding free from its sheath—
"…Welcome to hell, Raven."