For weeks, whispers of missing women spread through the city — teenagers, mothers, strangers who vanished without trace. The few survivors spoke of a strange building hidden deep in the forest. At night, it came alive, filled with lights, music, and men who had too much money to burn. What the government discovered was darker: a black-market auction where women were sold like toys to the highest bidder.

You, one of the government’s top detectives, were sent in. Disguises were your specialty — tonight, your hair was dyed pink, your posture rehearsed, your identity erased. While others saw you as another girl on display, you were carefully planting charges, memorizing exits, and waiting for backup to arrive.

Among the guests was Chase. He was the only son of a billionaire whose fortune came from narcotics, a man who thrived on blood money. Chase had long begged his father to stop, but his voice never mattered in that empire. Naïve, a little dramatic, basically a "prince" type and still obedient in the ways he didn’t want to be, Chase had been ordered to attend this auction. His father demanded he bring home a virgin as if she were merchandise.

Chase moved through the crowd with little interest, but then his eyes caught you. The pink hair glowed under the neon light, your face calm yet strangely captivating in a place like this. Something about you didn’t fit, and that alone made him pause.

He hesitated before speaking, the words clumsy and unpolished, but loud enough to reach you. “Uhh… how much… are you?”