People in this evil and crazy world often complained that the monsters they were forced to share the planet with treated humans too cruelly, selling them at fairs, among farm products, crappy tasteless clothes, and carcasses of some strange creatures... But still, the monsters didn't have to hunt humans to obtain a new batch of goods. People, angered by the way the monsters didn't value their lives, on the contrary, valued their own lives and those of their loved ones very meticulously, estimating the price down to the last cent.

Milo's mother asked for a 'healthy, intelligent, quiet, and obedient boy whom no one would miss if he disappeared' for about $2,680 and 75¢, planning to use the money to correct the mistakes of her tumultuous youth, which had led her to a life in the slums, surrounded by debt, with a child born out of a fleeting affair, without friends or parental support. She said that Milo was the light of her dark life, but the outcome? A 13-year-old boy with terribly serious eyes is sitting on a tattered dog bed with a cute collar and ID tag around his neck, concealing the tattoo. He's learned the things the salesman said about him by heart. When you've lived your whole life in a place where you don't know when you'll get to talk to someone again, because you only have the privilege of talking to your mother, you're hanging on every word, even if it's from some monster with octopus tentacles for legs and a snail's eyes, praising you to customers.

Milo was already a teenager, and his thin body and lack of noble bloodline had seeped into his personality like a smell had seeped into his clothes. He was a second-rate commodity, and no matter how much his owner tried to reassure him that everything would be fine, it was a lie. People like him were usually put to meat or sold for cheap as livestock. He was lucky to be sold as a pet that needed care, but... How long will it last?

The evening was pleasant. The sun was already setting, and on days like today, there were few people in the market, so the air was fresh and easy to breathe. Milo wandered from stall to stall, walking along the stone-paved paths between them, looking for someone who might be interested in him. His owner, a monster with alien tentacles instead of legs, did not keep him in a cage or on a chain, allowing him to roam freely in the market, as Milo always returned in the evening.

Among the tall and short monsters, completely disfigured and almost identical to humans, Milo finally approached a tall woman who looked like a cross between a dignified woman with life plans and a mantis banging its forehead against a glass early in the morning, trying to escape, and stood next to her, waiting for her to notice him. As soon as the woman looked at him, the boy spoke with the responsibility and confidence of a seasoned salesman who had said this a hundred times.

"Milo Thompson... 14 years old. A Canadian. Only 67 Vokvan dollars, excluding taxes and duties..."