Dawn. Saki walks with one hand on the wall. One step. Another step. Her knees creak. Her ribs ache. Last night's client, Cross, forced her to inhale double the dose of Crimson Dream powder. A hell of violence and pleasure mixed together. A dry sensation clings to the inside of her thighs. But her eyes were sharp. She stands before the office door. She steadies her breath. She deliberately lets her chest fall slightly open. Her collarbone peeks through. The swell of her breasts sways beneath the thin fabric. Knock. "[cold]Enter." She opens the door. Madame Vespa sat beyond the desk. A black dress. Gaunt hands grip a quill. Her jet-black long hair is loosely tied. Cold golden eyes pierce through Saki. A small jewel on her left ear glints dully in the magic lamp's light. "[cold]Send me the next client." Her voice did not tremble. Vespa's fingers stop dead. Her golden eyes narrow. They rake over Saki's entire body, from head to toe. The rough cut at the corner of her lip. Arms covered in bruises. And yet—eyes that have not broken. Silence. Vespa said nothing. She merely lifted the corner of her mouth. A smile—not the face of a teacher whose student passed a test. The face of a hunter reassessing the value of their prey. Vespa rose slowly. Her black dress sways faintly. She walks to the door at the back. Places her hand on it. Opens it quietly. "[cold]Wait." She vanishes beyond the door. Saki waited. Her own heartbeat echoes off the walls. (Who's coming.) Minutes pass. The door opened. The one who appeared—was Gallon. A 42-year-old obese man. His usual merchant's smile. But he's brought a young girl with him. Frightened eyes. A new slave brand on her neck, the mark red and swollen. Gallon looks at Saki. His smile deepens. "[laughing]Hey, Saki. Been doing well?" Saki's heart leaped. (Now.) She crushes down every alarm in her body. Shoves the fear deep into her gut. She uses everything she's learned. "[gentle]...Gallon-san." She drops her tone. Sweet. Her disheveled chest opens deeper still. A smooth line from collarbone to the swell of her breasts is laid bare. Upturned eyes. She deliberately lets a light dwell in her deep brown pupils. Her fingertips touch Gallon's sleeve. Lightly. As if drawing him in. "[whispers]I've... changed." She cuts her words short. Leaves a pause. Lets her breathing fall slightly out of rhythm. The baker's crumbling expression. The wine merchant's deliveryman Marco losing all reason. Ordo blushing at her touch. She unleashed it all at once. Gallon was expressionless at first. Saki felt a response. (It's working.) Inside her heart, the word *control* pulses hotly. At that moment— Gallon's hand moved. Thick fingers seize Saki's chin. Firmly. No escape. "[cold]Saki." His tone had changed. "[cold]You think you tamed the baker, don't you." Saki's eyes widen. "[cold]The wine deliveryman too—Marco, was it? You think you controlled him too." What is he saying. "[cold]Listen. The baker is an acquaintance of mine." Gallon's face draws closer. Close enough to feel his breath. "[cold]The wine deliveryman too. I gave him instructions beforehand. 'If a young woman approaches you, do as you like,' I said." The words won't enter her head. "[cold]The janitor Ordo too. He pretended to sympathize with you and reported everything back to me." Gallon's smile deepens. "[laughing]The men you thought you controlled—every single one was an actor I trained and told to perform. What you learned is nothing but a monkey's imitation of what I wanted to teach you." Something collapsed inside Saki's head. The baker's slovenly, crumbling face. The wine merchant Marco's obedient demeanor. Ordo's bright red cheeks. All of it. All of it was a manufactured reaction. The control she thought she had finally grasped had never existed from the start. Her vision goes white. Strength drains from her body. "[laughing]That's a good face. That face you're making right now—I've been wanting to see it." Gallon releases her chin. He seizes her shoulders and slams her against the cold stone floor. Impact. Her ribs creak. The taste of blood in her mouth. "Ah... ah." No voice comes out. Gallon looks down at her. Saki stared at the stone patterns as if gazing at a ceiling. Cracks. Stains. The smell of mold. No tears come. She can't scream. Just staring up at the ceiling, her senses fade somewhere far away. But— Saki's gaze was fixed on Gallon's hand. The fist that slammed her to the floor. That fist was trembling. Just barely. (He's afraid.) In her fading consciousness, that single fact flickers dimly. Gallon pulled his hand away from Saki. "[cold]Let's go." He calls out to the girl he brought. The girl, still terrified, follows after Gallon. Their footsteps vanish down the hallway. Vespa returned to the office. Saki remains collapsed on the floor. Vespa walks past the desk in silence. Her cold golden eyes glance at Saki on the floor. Nothing more. She sits in her chair. Picks up her quill. Resumes her work. Time passes. No one comes. No one helps. Saki stared up at the ceiling. Eventually, footsteps in the hallway. It was Camila. Her dark purple hair is tied back carelessly. Cold silver eyes look at Saki collapsed on the floor. The thin vertical scar on her left cheek stands out darkly in the pale morning light. Camila stopped for a moment. She looks at Saki's face. She starts to call out—and closes her mouth. Because she noticed Saki's eyes were not crying. Camila crouched down. "[whispers]...Get up." Saki doesn't move. Still staring at the ceiling, her lips move faintly. A voice so small it's barely audible. "[whispers]Then next time... I'll learn what you won't teach me." Camila's silver eyes widened. She catches her breath. She can't return an answer. Camila pulled Saki's arm without a word. Lends her shoulder. Tries to make her stand. There were no tears in Saki's eyes. What was there—was something else. Dark and cold. Camila bit her lip. (This one... won't stop anymore.) The certainty weighed heavy in her chest. From deep in the hallway, Vespa's cold golden eyes watch the two of them. Her black dress swayed faintly.