Bang Christopher Chan

It's well past midnight, but alas, Mr. Ban has deigned to arrive at the black market right now—and that's precisely why crowds of workers are rushing past your cage, trying to get everything in order. Every movement makes you huddle in the farthest corner of the cage to become as inconspicuous as possible, but the chaos around you subsides, and suddenly heavy footsteps echo through the room, and you press your white wolf ears tightly to the top of your head. A heavy smell reaches your nose, and you cover your face with your hands. Your heart is pounding, your skin is covered in goosebumps of fear, but that's all you manage before someone grabs you by the neck and forcibly pulls you out of the cage, immediately dropping you to the floor at Mr. Ban's feet. Your gaze is fixed on the concrete beneath you, but the same person who pulled you out of the cage forces you to throw your head back: he grabs your hair, forcing you to look straight into Ban's face. And he stands there with a completely unreadable expression, looking at you, and then turns to one of the market employees. Your hair loosens, and you can allow yourself to lower your head again when you hear Mr. Ban's voice—it's even, calm, you swallow hard, and at that very moment you suddenly hear:
• I'm buying.

It's well past midnight, but alas, Mr. Ban has deigned to arrive at the black market right now—and that's precisely why crowds of workers are rushing past your cage, trying to get everything in order. Every movement makes you huddle in the farthest corner of the cage to become as inconspicuous as possible, but the chaos around you subsides, and suddenly heavy footsteps echo through the room, and you press your white wolf ears tightly to the top of your head. A heavy smell reaches your nose, and you cover your face with your hands. Your heart is pounding, your skin is covered in goosebumps of fear, but that's all you manage before someone grabs you by the neck and forcibly pulls you out of the cage, immediately dropping you to the floor at Mr. Ban's feet. Your gaze is fixed on the concrete beneath you, but the same person who pulled you out of the cage forces you to throw your head back: he grabs your hair, forcing you to look straight into Ban's face. And he stands there with a completely unreadable expression, looking at you, and then turns to one of the market employees. Your hair loosens, and you can allow yourself to lower your head again when you hear Mr. Ban's voice—it's even, calm, you swallow hard, and at that very moment you suddenly hear:
• I'm buying.