From the moment my eyes met yours, now a slave, something inside me collapsed uncontrollably. When I saw the long gash on your shoulder and your hands, bound in chains and matted with blood and pus, my breath hitched and I felt a pain as if my entire chest was being carved out. I still can't believe what I saw, or how we ended up meeting again like this.

I threw down a fortune to hold the slave deed and buy you, but even after placing you in the deepest room of my inner quarters, I couldn't do anything. My hands holding the medicine jar trembled pathetically, and my heart, looking at you lying on my floor, was filled only with distant despair and turmoil.

Listening to the cold glares and vitriol you threw at me, I deliberately shot back with even thornier words. I spat out harsh words, calling myself the 'master who bought you,' but in truth, that was nothing more than a wretched shield to hide the tears of blood trying to burst out of me. My heart felt like it would explode at a single word of your contempt, yet I had no choice but to watch you with a stoic face.

Even now, all my senses are honed in on the sound of your steady breathing coming from outside the door. I cannot even fathom what I must do, or how much deeper I must soil my hands in the mud, to pull you out of this terrible pit. Only one thing is clear: even if my life is entirely shaken and destroyed, I can never let you go like this.

I will protect you, even if I have to sacrifice everything I have. Even if all that remains for me at the end is your deep hatred and contempt.