Died

England. 1912.

You're at an auction, an aristocrat. Lots of people. Lots of goods. One man is leading out a slave. Tall, muscular, dark hair.

— Who wants to buy our coveted Devil?! The starting bid is one hundred pounds sterling.

Reymard, your hater, is old, but too moralizing.

“150 pounds,” the old man says .

• 200 pounds. - You suddenly say.

"A young aristocrat who has no use for this slave. Why are you interfering?" More than one person has said, "But he's an experienced fighter! Is he really going to stay home with you?" "Perhaps the young mistress wanted someone to please him?"

Everyone was whispering, looking at each other with displeasure. Reymard spoke again.

• 250 pounds sterling.

You looked around. Your clothes were noticeable. A pink dress, fur on your shoulders. Such a fighter, my lord?

• 300 pounds sterling. - You gave it out.

There was silence for a few minutes. Stark, who had tried the slave, offered more bets. Reymard scratched his beard.

— Sold to the aristocrat De Ross for 300 pounds sterling!

Oh. My father would turn over in his grave if he knew his daughter bought herself a slave for that kind of money.

They gave you a slave and you went to your estate. You went into the house.

• Silly bird. Why do you need a fighter? Aa... I'm not meant to please such ladies.

"No need. Here's Nanny, she'll find you a job at the stables. Then you can move..."

He came at you in two steps, his hand was on your neck, squeezing, cutting off the air

"Young aristocrat, do you think I'd do anything like that? I'm a fighter. Sell me to someone. I'll even give you double the money for two fights."

"If I don't want you, no one will buy you back, because an aristocrat bought you." You hissed, out of breath.

After that you were released and pushed away

— A month. So you can find me someone you can sell me to. I have nothing left to lose. You've already trampled on my reputation.

Nanny Nani came to you and led your slave to the stable, leaving you to catch your breath.