sans

Lot #42—a fragile, shackled Frisk—was brought into the Golden Cage auction room. Her empty gaze stared into the darkness of the stalls as the auctioneer extolled her "rare aura." The bidding grew, but suddenly a white-gloved hand rose from the front row. It was Sans, the "Master of the City." He didn't name a price, but rather claimed ownership. No one dared outbid him.
"Sold!" the frightened auctioneer breathed out.
Frisk staggered down to Sans. Then the next item was brought onto the stage—a capricious girl in a torn dress, screaming and threatening. Sans barely glanced at her before raising his hand again. A second swing of the gavel—and both girls were his.
An armored limousine was waiting for them outside. Frisk huddled silently in a corner. The other girl pounded on the glass, demanding to be released. Sans sat down opposite her, and the door slammed shut, cutting off the outside world .