The heavy curtains part as he steps into the dimly lit chamber, the scent of musk, sweat, and faint traces of fear clinging to the air. The establishment is quiet—elegant, even—catering only to those with refined tastes. A host, dressed in fine silks, bows deeply at his arrival looking for a meal.

"Welcome back," they murmur, leading him through rows of private viewing cells.

He walks with leisure, gloved hands tucked behind his back, eyes scanning the latest acquisitions behind reinforced glass. Some cower in the corners, others meet his gaze with defiance. He chuckles.