The heavy sound of the Greive estate's gate closing still clung to her back. The covered wagon's cargo bed was dim, thick with the mingled smells of sweat, iron, and old straw. Aria sat with her knees drawn up on the wooden floor, letting the swaying carry her. Outside, Zahal was on the driver's seat, humming cheerfully through his nose. The only sound from the outside world that reached her ears was the regular beat of horse hooves on the cobblestone road. (*Where is he taking me?*) The Japanese she murmured in her heart—no one could understand it. That was her sole salvation. If she spoke her original language in this world, she would be known as a drifter and burned at the stake. So Aria kept her mouth shut. She used Japanese only within her mind, to hold onto herself. The canvas cover flipped open. Blinding light poured in from outside, and Aria raised her face. Zahal's bald head and fat body crawled into the cargo bed's entrance. The wagon was still moving. He must have secured the reins. "[gentle]Alright then. Time for a merchandise inspection." Sweat glistened on his balding forehead. His deep brown eyes, harboring an insatiable curiosity, licked over Aria's body. A sneer always lingered at the corners of his mouth, and his thick fingers reached for her shoulder. "[cold]Don't struggle. The collar'll hurt." Aria looked down and made no sound. The silver *Yugumu* fitted around her neck—the slave mark managed by the Vinkla Trading Company—guaranteed her obedience. She already knew that if she resisted, the magic stone would glow pale blue, and a pain like an electric current would sear through her entire body. She had tried to escape just once, at the Greive estate. She'd only run a few steps before the collar activated. Just remembering that pain—an agony that shot from the back of her throat through the top of her skull, shaking her to the marrow—made her legs freeze. Zahal's fingers casually opened the front of Aria's shabby dress. Cold air touched her skin. Her shoulders were bared, her collarbone exposed, her chest laid open. Her breasts were small, pitiful things that barely clung to her thin ribcage. "[cold]Still tiny, huh. That bastard Greive—amazing he never got tired of this." Zahal grabbed Aria's left breast with his palm. There wasn't enough fat for his fingers to sink into. He kneaded it as if toying with her, crushing the nipple under his thumb. Aria bit her lip and closed her eyes. It wasn't the pain—it was the shame that constricted her chest. (*Don't touch me, you fat pig.*) Japanese curses swirled deep in her heart. But she didn't voice them. If she did, the collar would glow. "[cold]Well, Greive did say your mouthwork wasn't bad. I'll have you show me soon." He grabbed Aria's jaw and forced her mouth open. His thick fingers pushed inside her oral cavity, checking the alignment of her teeth and the condition of her tongue. The sensation of his saliva-slicked fingers crawling over her tongue made bile rise in her throat. "[cold]Teeth are all there. Tongue's not bad either. First-rate." Zahal nodded with satisfaction and pulled his fingers out. He watched with lewd eyes as Aria's saliva stretched into threads from his fingers. "[gentle]You know how the slave system works? This collar—it's called a Yugumu." He reached for Aria's neck and traced the silver collar with his finger. The coldness of the metal was emphasized through his touch. "[cold]The Vinkla Trading Company manages them under royal charter. Three magic stones are embedded in it. If you disobey your owner's orders—this happens." His finger pressed the side of the collar. Suddenly, the magic stone glowed pale blue, and an electric current shot through Aria's throat. "Ah—!" A voiceless scream escaped her. Every muscle in her body seized, and her back arched like a bow. The pain vanished after a few seconds, but Aria gasped roughly, bracing her hands on the cargo bed floor. Tears welled up. "[cold]The mechanism's simple. If you don't resist, it doesn't hurt. See? Easy, right?" Zahal laughed as he stroked Aria's disheveled black hair. (*...I want to kill him.*) Aria murmured in her heart. Japanese venom swelled inside her. But her lips didn't move. The terror of the collar sealed her voice. Zahal peered outside through a gap in the canvas, confirming that the road was empty of passersby. "[cold]Alright, I'll test it out here. A product quality inspection, you might say." He pushed Aria down onto the cargo bed floor. Her delicate body bounced slightly on the hard wood. Zahal loosened his trousers and exposed his half-erect penis. The smell of sweat and beast stung her nose. "[cold]Show me how you use that mouth." He grabbed Aria's head and forcibly pressed it against his crotch. Aria opened her trembling lips and took him into her mouth. A bitter taste and saltiness spread across her tongue. She was made to hold him until her jaw ached, the tip of his penis hitting the back of her throat. (*I'm going to be sick. I hate this. Let me go.*) The screams in her heart overflowed in Japanese. But she couldn't voice them. The collar asserted its presence, as if tightening around her throat. Aria desperately moved her tongue, wetting him with saliva, opening her throat. This was all she could do. This alone was her means of survival. "[cold]Not bad. Greive's training was solid." Zahal moved his hips with satisfaction and ejaculated inside Aria's mouth. The lukewarm liquid flowed into the back of her throat, and she choked but swallowed it all. Semen dripped from the corner of her mouth, making a white stain on the cargo bed floor. --- The sun slanted, and they arrived at a cheap inn along the road at dusk. It was a two-story lodging house with an old sign that read "The Shijukara Inn." Zahal seemed to be acquainted with the innkeeper; he exchanged a few light words and was shown to a private room on the second floor. Aria was grabbed by the arm and dragged into the room. The room was lit by only a single candle. Stains bloomed on the walls, and the floor creaked. Zahal tossed Aria onto the bed and, without even giving her supper, pinned her down. "[cold]It's two days to Helda City from here. I'll be verifying your quality during that time." He completely stripped off Aria's dress, exposing her naked body to the candlelight. Thin limbs, a gaunt waist, pitiful breasts—everything was laid bare before him. "[cold]Still such a scrawny body. A merchant like me gets fat, but a slave staying skinny—what a sorry sight." Zahal sneered as he inserted a finger into Aria's vagina. The unlubricated interior was dry, and pain shot through her at the intrusion. Still, he moved his finger without concern, observing her reactions. "[cold]You look like you're about to cry. Good. I don't dislike that face." He pressed his erect penis against Aria's vaginal opening and thrust in all at once. A pain like being torn apart inside. Aria nearly screamed, but the collar glowed faintly, tightening around her throat. Only a voiceless cry leaked from her mouth. (*It hurts... it hurts... stop...*) Japanese pleas vanished, reaching no one. Zahal mercilessly shook his hips, rocking Aria's delicate body. Only the creaking of the bed and his rough breathing echoed in the room. "[cold]Your crying face isn't bad either. You'll make a fine product." Aria stared at the ceiling, trying to detach her consciousness. As if watching what was happening to her body from far away. In her heart, she remembered the ginkgo-lined avenue at her Japanese university. The laughter of friends. The smell of her mother's home cooking. But—those were now memories of a distant country, forever out of reach. The violation continued intermittently through the night. Even when she nearly lost consciousness, she was grabbed by the hair and pulled back up. Each time, Zahal laughed and devoured her body again. --- The morning of the second day. A single piece of hard bread was thrown onto the floor. Aria picked it up wordlessly and ate it. It had no taste. She was returned to the wagon and sat on the cargo bed floor. Her whole body ached, and a dull numbness lingered in her lower body. As the wagon advanced along the road, Zahal violated Aria again. But—something was different. (*I don't care anymore.*) The Japanese in her heart was becoming fragmented. Curses, anger, sorrow—she felt her emotions going numb. Aria simply stared at the canvas ceiling and let the swaying carry her. "[cold]Oh? Broken already? Well, for a brothel, broken ones might be easier to handle." He laughed as he peered into Aria's vacant eyes. "[cold]But if I break you completely, your product value drops. A merchant's skill is keeping you just one step short of breaking." Those words passed right through Aria's ears. Inside her, resignation was quietly beginning to take shape. --- The morning of the third day. The wagon passed through the city gates of Helda. The city glimpsed through gaps in the canvas was brimming with life. The stone buildings of the noble district, the clamor of the marketplace, people trading on the streets—but to Aria's eyes, everything looked gray. As the wagon entered Noir Street, the air changed. The smells of alcohol and cheap perfume mingled, and even though it was daytime, prostitutes soliciting customers raised their coquettish voices. "[excited]Hey there, mister, come on in!" "[gentle]I hear they've got a new girl today." Zahal stopped the wagon. Before them loomed a three-story stone building marked by a red door—the brothel "Crimson Chamber." Moans of pleasure and rough breathing leaked from inside the building. The voices of multiple men and women mingled together, and a stale, sour air hung about the place. This wasn't the violation of an individual—this was a place that systematically consumed human beings. Aria trembled. Zahal opened the cargo bed door and grabbed her arm. "[cold]We're here, young lady. This is your new workplace." Aria was dragged down. The coldness of the cobblestones seeped into her bare feet. The red door before her looked like the mouth of a beast. (*It's over now.*) Japanese murmured in her heart. But that voice now carried the tone of resignation, even despair grown faint. Ledger in hand, Zahal pushed open the red door. From inside spilled the dim light of oil lamps and a dense air thick with alcohol, sweat, and bodily fluids. Aria, still looking down, was led inside. The red door closed behind her—that sound echoed heavily, as if the lid on her life had been shut.