Momoko didn’t acknowledge the crowd’s reaction. She didn’t wait for me to descend the stairs. Perhaps most odd, she didn’t pay the auctioneer as I’d seen others do immediately following each sale. She simply turned and strode away as if floating gracefully on a cloud, her servants scrambling to follow.
I stood there, trying to process what had just happened. Twenty-fiveryo. The sum was staggering, a lifetime’s wages for a fisherman in Tooi. The way the military men backed down, the whispers that followed, the space people gave her as she passed, it all spoke of a regal contract.
A guard stepped forward and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the stairs. My legs moved automatically, carrying me to ground level where two young women waited. They were beautiful—impossibly so—dressed in simple but elegantkimonos, their faces painted white with delicate color on their lips and cheeks. Their age was impossible to tell, though I guessed them no older than me, their movements graceful as dancers.
Both of them bowed.
To me.
A slave just sold.
Just purchased.
One of the women—the taller one with kind eyes—drew in a sharp breath when she straightened. She glanced at her companion, some silent message passing between them.
Twenty-fiveryo,her expression said.The mistress paid twenty-fiveryo.
I stared, confused and terrified.
“Kaneko-san,” the kind-eyed one said softly. “We are here to escort you.”
She knew my name. How did she—
“Where?” My voice came out strangled.
“Momoko-samais waiting,” the other said. She smiled, but there was something sad in it, something knowing. “Please, follow us.”
They turned and began walking, clearly expecting me to follow. There were no guards, no male servants with weapons or knives or strong arms to compel me, only these women and their soft-spoken urgings.
I could’ve run, could’ve fought them, killed them, even. I’d trained for battle. Two women in dainty silks were no match for my skills.
And yet, somehow, they were enough.
I looked back at the auction block, at the stage still stained with blood despite the servants’ best efforts, at the crowd already focused on the next piece ofmerchandisebeing dragged forward—a girl who couldn’t have been more than thirteen, sobbing openly.
The auctioneer’s voice rose again: “Opening bid—oneryo! No? How about twentymon?”
The painted women looked back at me, their expressions patient but urgent.
I had no choice, so I followed them into the streets of Bara, toward whatever fate awaited me.
My hands shook still. I looked down at them—at the fine silk covering my arms, at fingers that didn’t look like mine anymore—and couldn’t recognize them as part of me.
Behind us, the auctioneer’s voice faded into the clamor of the city.
And Bara swallowed me whole.
Chapter 5
Kaneko
My escorts—or whatever they were—led me down narrower streets where the buildings pressed close enough to block out the sun. The merchant quarter gave way to another world entirely.
At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Women lined the streets inkimonoscut daringly low, their faces painted white as death masks, lips crimson-red. They called out with voices like honey and smoke. Some lounged in doorways. Others leaned from second-story windows, their laughter tinkling like broken glass. There were men, too, boys really. They wore sheer silk that hid nothing and called out with the same teasing taunts.
Then I understood.
We were in the red district. I’d heard of it in Takeo’s tales but never quite believed them to be true. Yet, here it was . . . and heretheywere.
