The oni were always considered an odd species, yet worked well together alongside all despite it. But you found yourself illegally sold to one Prince Renshu of an oni kingdom.

He sat in a smokey, fancy room, white hair, a red parasol, with thin half-moon glasses adorned on his rangy but strong frame. He sat with more human slaves, oni servants, or friends.

“New one,” He’d hummed then demandingly said, “Pour me some green tea, be quick—Or I’ll take one of your eyes.” His grin widened.