(Siddharta POV)
When I was dragged on stage, the announcer welcomed everyone loudly.
"And for our very first specimen tonight, I present to you... This boy! Look at his appearance, ladies. Watch how elegantly he walks at this age already. If you take him this young, you can train him to do anything you wish. He has been this poised the entire time and hasn't said a word. Isn't that perfect for a slave? So what do you think?"
The announcer screamed like a man possessed, as though shouting were the only way he knew how to speak. I looked around the room and gazed into the eyes of those who stared at me. There were quite a few strange people, alright. And from the looks of things, most of them were pirates.
"100'000," someone called.
"Oh? I know he's only a small child, but the potential this boy has for any buyer is immense. Just imagine him giving you a massage, or bringing you pleasures you wouldn't dare tell anyone else about..." he raised his eyebrow as he delivered the last, twisted part of his pitch. There were truly sick people in this world—well, in any world.
"150'000."
"200'000."
"300'000."
"330'000."
For some reason, the auctioneer's tactics worked, and the perverts in the room seemed to imagine me fulfilling their fantasies. I found it darkly amusing. All of that worldly desire in their eyes. The bidding grew higher and higher until an unpleasant nasal voice silenced the room.
"10'000'000 Belly."
The hall went dead quiet. I looked up and saw... astronauts. Or rather, a family of them. They wore their hair, or a part of it, combed upward with a distinct curl on top. Then they all wore the same kind of white robe that resembled a spacesuit with a skirt. Ronald had told me about them—World Nobles, the so-called Celestial Dragons. The way they held themselves, looking down on everyone else, made it clear. Although I don't understand why they feel so entitled. They don't seem strong at all. Maybe they were simply rich, which is why they were called dragons, for hoarding all the gold in the world. I looked up and saw the auctioneer's eyes glitter with greed. He knew he had struck gold.
"Ah, of course, Saint Amanda. It is an honour that you are interested in our goods. We will immediately prepare him for you," the announcer said, and I was pulled off the platform. What an interesting world I had landed in.
"Here is the money," the bloated "astronaut" said, handing over a bundle of bills.
Paper money. How boring. I had hoped for something more exotic. Still, perhaps another world would prove more creative. I was shoved forward as the grotesque man looked at me. I doubt I am meant for him personally. More likely, I am to be a gift. Is it probably the girl, or is she a woman? I can't tell.
"Don't look at me, slave!" she bellowed.
I stared at the female, confused.
"What?"
"Why are you still looking at me?! Bow your head, worm!" Spitt flew as she shouted.
Perhaps those helmets were less about prestige and more about keeping others dry.
"Why would I bow? Is that some kind of formal greeting?" I asked honestly.
My words only seemed to enrage her further. She struck me across the face. I felt my head move to the side slightly and then looked at her again. She wasn't very strong.
"..."
"..."
"What was that for?" I asked, which pushed her past his breaking point. She pulled out a golden pistol and aimed at me.
"Bow, slave! Bow, or I'll shoot you!" she shouted angrily.
"Do what you must. Nobody can make me do anything. And secondly—I don't bow."
*Bang!*
My left leg buckled, pain shooting through me as I felt the bullet pierce my thigh. However, I didn't scream. I refused to. I lift my head and stare at her, without a chance in my expression. I knew she would do it. I see her misplaced pride and anger.
"Was that really necessary?" I asked.
*BANG*
She shot me again, this time in the right side of my thorax. Blood gushed, soaking my chest. I felt the pain soar through me again, but still, I didn't scream. I only hold the wound tightly with my left hand.
"You know, this won't get us anywhere. Why not stop this, and I'll tell you a story instead?" I suggested.
"What... what is going on? Why aren't you screaming?!"
Her confusion wrestled with his anger. My mention of a story seemed to intrigue her, if only for a moment. But her upbringing as a World Noble and snotty brat prevailed. She raised the pistol once more, ready to kill me for good.
"Amanda, daughter. Don't shoot him just yet. There are worse things we can do to teach him his place," an older voice commanded. Likely her father. The woman beside them was her mother. How such creatures found the will to breed was beyond me. Especially with one another. I mean, did they not have mirrors?
"You're right, Father. Cipher Pol, take him to my playroom."
Two masked figures in white and with masks appeared instantly next to them, bowing deeply.
"Yes, Saint Amanda," they intoned.
Darkness swallowed me right after hearing those words.
.
I awoke bound to a wooden cross in a dungeon reeking of pain and death. The nobles were truly sad creatures, convinced of their superiority by nothing more than birthright. I wondered what sustained their power—fear, most likely. Although the Cipher Pol agents were formidable. Surely something even stronger stood behind them.
The door opened, and in walked Amanda, my new "friend," trailed by two Cipher Pol guards.
"Yo, Amanda, how are you? Not the best hospitality, but I suppose I'm still adjusting to cultural differences," I said.
"You are very disobedient. You will be punished. I've played with slaves for a long time—I know what hurts. You will scream and beg," she said, her eyes burning with anger at my defiance and with desire. She needed help.
"If this is about bowing, listen, it's not you—it's me. Bowing's not in my nature. I can see the worldly desire filling those eyes of yours. I dig it. But listen, how about we skip this and watch a sunset instead? You need a friend and a goal in life."
Instead of gratitude, I earned a confused look, followed by a slap. Spikes embedded in her glove tore my face, drawing blood.
"Be quiet!" she snapped, grabbing a hot iron from the fire. With it, she waved it before my eyes, grinning. "See this? I'll burn you until you scream."
She pressed the iron against my gunshot wound.
*TSCHHHH!*
The smell of charred flesh filled the air. My skin blackened, the pain burning—but still, I did not scream. She struck again and again, branding my body, beating me with the iron, finally driving it into my stomach.
Panting, enraged, she shouted, "Why won't you scream?!"
"You are seriously out of shape. Why don't we try this again? Let me tell you about what it means to be unrestrained. You are a truly sad individual, and I would like to show you out of your chains. What do you say?" I smiled at her.
Blood and swelling blurred my vision. Still, I refused him. Her tantrum subsided, and she barked at the guards with tears in her eyes.
"Take him down and lock him in a cage alone. No food. I want to see him beg."
The world faded as I succumbed to unconsciousness with a smile on my face.
.
I didn't know how long I was out—days, at least. My body ached from lying unmoved. Amanda had ordered me not to be fed—foolish, since starvation would end her games quickly. But I endured, reflecting on myself. Pain would never break me. My will was too strong. It must have been the blessing of the Honoured One, I suppose. I also don't understand why I tried to help Amanda instead of cursing her. I'm not emotionless, and I don't enjoy pain. Sure, I refuse to shout, but I feel it. And yet, I can tell that she is simply misguided.
I had also noticed something else: people seemed to be drawn to me unconsciously. Even Amanda started to waver when I offered her a story. Perhaps she was unstable... or maybe it was me. And year by year, I would grow stronger—twice as strong, possibly, with each passing year. I hadn't trained a day, yet the strength would come. And I could increase it with effort.
The door finally opened again. A guard chained me, without saying a single word, and dragged me through winding halls. Entertainment, the nobles called it. Appalling. It will be a long road ahead for Amanda, from what I can see here. Soon I was back in the playroom, bound once more to the cross. Amanda stood before me, food in hand. My stomach growled seeing it.
"Are you hungry? Well, too bad. You won't eat until I hear you scream, hehehe."
"Have I told you the story of the lily on the lake?" I asked her.
"Huh?"
"Here, let me tell you. The lily was a single flower. It grew on a lake so clear that the sky could see itself in the water. Each morning, the lily opened with the rise of the sun, and each night it closed with the moon. It never hurried along, never resisted the wind or the rain and never worried about most things. It simply floated, admiring the world around it while the lake carried it wherever it wished.
One day, a storm arrived. The waves grew tall and violent, the sky roared with thunder, lightning struck across the sky, and the rain fell heavily. The fish hid beneath the water, refusing to jump up for food. The birds fled to the forests, hiding in their nests. But the lily did not flee, nor did it fight the tides or the wind. It simply floated as it always had. Because it had understood that at some point, the storm would stop and the sun would come back out. And when the storm was truly gone, the lake returned to its tranquil state again, and the lily still bloomed.
Another day, a fisherman saw the lily and was so smitten with its beauty that he thought he must have that beauty for himself. So he went ahead, used his boat and plucked it from the water. He was excited and rode his boat back to shore, where he brought the lily home and decided to admire its beauty whenever he went to bed and awoke the next morning. But the moment he opened his eyes the next day and gazed upon the lily, the flower had withered. The beauty he tried to own turned to nothing.
You see, he should have simply admired it from the shore. He had not understood that simply sitting on the shore, watching the lily quietly, he would see the lily in all its splendour."
...
...
"And then?" Amanda asked.
She had been pulled into the flow of the story and wanted to know how it continued. Sid smiled.
"There's not then. The lily withered away."
"What?! NO! Bring her back! I want the lily to return!" Amanda started to rant.
"Sometimes, that's not possible. What's dead is dead. That is the way of life. You see, had the man sat on the shore and watched, he would have learned patience and that beauty didn't belong to anyone. By taking something you desire out of its natural habitat, away from its home and forcing your will on it, it will wither and die."
"..."
"Just as all the lives of the slaves you hold here will also wither away, by you forcing them into giving you happiness. Happiness is not something that can be given. You have to find it on your own! So what you are doing here is useless."
"..."
"Do you want to reach enlightenment with me, Amanda?"
Sid smiled brightly. Despite his wounds, despite the torture he went through, despite everything, he smiled, and his charisma, presence or aura, or whatever you wanted to call it, already started to affect the World Noble. But not just her, the two Cipher Pol agents as well.