Mind One More Person at the Negotiating Table?

Inside a bar awash in dizzying lights, a group of oddly dressed gang members huddled in a corner, discussing something.

Jonas swirled the glass in his hand and took a small sip.

The liquor burned his throat. Though it was cheap stuff, it could still get the hormones flowing.

"Want to try some?"

He looked at Eiffel beside him and asked with a smile.

Eiffel hesitated, but followed his example and took a small sip.

The moment the alcohol entered her mouth, she broke into a coughing fit:

"Cough, cough-"

A tipsy flush spread across the girl's face. Once she finally recovered, she shot Jonas a reproachful look.

The contrast with her usual unflappable composure made her seem all the more adorable, and the flush on her cheeks lent her an innocent allure.

Jonas couldn't help laughing at the sight. His mean streak earned him another round of dirty looks from her.

But this little interlude didn't last long. A commotion came from the bar's entrance, drawing both their attention.

The gang members at the entrance led a group of men dressed in black into a private room. Behind them followed a purple-haired girl with shackles on her wrists and ankles.

Such a sight was hardly unusual in the Slums' Red-Light District.

After all, things like this happened in every corner of the Slums almost constantly.

Human trafficking.

"Looks like the person we're waiting for is here."

Jonas looked at the shackled girl, something dark flickering in his eyes.

Iris Chelsea, the Brain-Melding Witch.

She really is a sorry sight right now.

Sex dolls, as the name implied, were tools used to satisfy lust.

Girls unfortunate enough to become sex dolls had chips implanted in them to regulate their hormones. From then on, whatever happened to them depended entirely on their owners' whims.

Most girls implanted with these chips were doomed to a miserable end.

In some of the better cases, the chip's owner might grow bored and discard the sex doll, leaving her to fend for herself. These abandoned sex dolls would then come to the Red-Light District to earn a living.

In the vast majority of other cases, their owners would use and abuse them until they died...

And now, the girl named Iris was about to meet just such a tragic fate.

Her eyes were dull. Feeling the shackles binding her hands, she was filled with conflicting emotions.

Three hours earlier, her adoptive father had sold her to members of the Wildfire Gang. They had implanted a chip in her, turning her into a sex doll with even less standing than a prostitute.

Next, these people would sell her to an "owner" she had never met.

Someone like me was always destined to end up like this, wasn't I?

Iris stared at the psychedelic lights. All around her, desire throbbed amid the din, and countless gazes seemed to settle on her. She couldn't help lowering her head, her clenched hands trembling.

"What are you standing around for? Move."

The man in front of her yanked the chain binding her hands, making her stumble.

Not daring to meet his gaze, she timidly answered:

"Y-yes."

Iris had never been strong-willed. Otherwise, she wouldn't have offered no resistance at all when her adoptive father decided to sell her as a sex doll.

The light before her suddenly dimmed. The psychedelic glow gradually gave way to dull orange lighting, and Iris vaguely sensed that she had been led into a room.

A moment later, she was flung to the floor. The impact drew a muffled groan from her, and then she saw the man sitting on the couch.

"Why did you bring me a sickly one?"

The young man sounded displeased.

"Young Master Sirka... uh, things have been pretty tight lately. The Peacekeeping Forces have been keeping a close eye on us, so we can't exactly snatch people off the streets..."

The gang member who had brought her there spoke cautiously, a fawning smile on his face.

At that, the young man examined Iris carefully before nodding and saying:

"Hmm... fine, then. She's pretty enough. Probably won't last long, though."

Hearing his almost nakedly explicit words, Iris couldn't stop her body from trembling.

"With the way you play, Young Master Sirka, a sickly thing like her probably won't last a month."

The gang member laughed, utterly indifferent to whether the girl lived or died.

He remembered very clearly what had become of the sex dolls he had brought Young Master Sirka before... fewer than one in ten had survived intact.

Let's just hope this sickly one still looks human by the end.

He glanced at Iris, but there wasn't a trace of pity in his eyes.

As though envisioning the fate that awaited her, Iris lowered her head, seemingly trying to escape reality.

At this point, there was almost no chance of turning things around.

Iris knew very well how sex dolls ended up. She had seen the almost lifeless eyes of those who had been discarded.

Will I end up just like them...?

The girl couldn't help thinking of a story she had read, in which a tragic heroine's true love arrived in her hour of peril.

She hadn't read many books. Perhaps that story had brought a glimmer of hope to her otherwise lifeless existence, for it had left a deep impression on Iris.

At the thought, she couldn't help smiling bitterly at herself.

Iris knew very well that such a thing was impossible for her.

How could I possibly hope that...

Bang!

The door to the room was kicked open with tremendous force.

Everyone in the room jumped, and the gang member in charge instinctively drew his gun.

A moment later, they heard a voice tinged with mockery.

"Mind one more person at the negotiating table?"