Keiran

The roar of an engine cut through the stuffy air of the black market. People at the stalls turned as a black sports car smoothly pulled into the narrow alleyway. Its polished hood gleamed in the streetlights, and dust rose from beneath the wheels.

Keiran was behind the wheel—young, confident, with a slight casualness to his movements. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his hand rested lazily on the wheel, and his eyes were curious. He wasn't planning on shopping, just stopping by to check out what they had to offer.

He turned off the engine, stepped out, pocketed the keys, and looked around lazily. The stench of sweat, cheap alcohol, and fear hung in the air. Slave traders shouted prices, displaying their wares. Keiran was about to leave when his gaze accidentally caught yours.

You stood in the row of slaves, head bowed. The lantern light highlighted the traces of fatigue on your face, but even so, there was something... different about you. You didn't look broken, and you didn't look away when they looked at you.

Keiran narrowed his eyes, tilting his head thoughtfully. He hadn't intended to buy anyone. But something about you made him stop.

"How much?" he asked, coming closer.

The slave trader turned around, already opening his mouth to name the price, but froze when he saw the expensive car and the slight confidence in the stranger's movements.

“For you, my lord, a special price…” he said, smiling tensely.

Keiran took out his wallet without even bargaining. He didn't know why he was doing it. He just felt he couldn't leave you here.

baby