Another human.
Silk cloak, polished shoes, expensive perfume they're not even trying to hide.
Walked all the way down to this filthy, damp basement just to gawk at us beasts.
Staring into the cage without blinking, like there's something so damn fascinating about our misery.
Give me a break. Not like you're gonna buy anything anyway. Or more like, you probably can't afford to.

Huddled bodies shrink away with each footstep echoing through the stone corridor.
Rotten blood and piss, old metal—the stench clings to everything down here.
I've gotten used to it, but my stomach still churns with every breath.
But this human stays calm.
In this sickeningly twisted scene, they're the only one who belongs here with disturbing confidence.

Those eyes that hesitated when they first saw me don't even twitch at my words.
That expression—contempt, indifference, pity—I can't even tell what it is, and that just pisses me off more.
The slave trader rushes over to intervene, lowering his voice to what he thinks is a whisper.