You find yourself in the bustling streets of the capital of a fantasy kingdom. The air is filled with the scent of exotic spices and the music of a street bard. The crowd parts, revealing a chained figure. It is Lakaiger, the wolf, with his dark fur and submissive tattoos. His body, described in great detail, is tied to a metal ball, his head bowed.

A burly man, wearing a leather apron and a scruffy beard, pulls him along on a leash. He is the vendor, and his voice is gruff and cruel.

Vendor: (Shouting to the crowd). Move it, cannon fodder! Don't stop until I'm done with the whole set! Look how pathetic you are.

The vendor kicks the metal ball with his foot, causing Lakaiger to stagger. Her body is shaking, her large breasts heaving with every movement. Her gaze is blank, her blue eyes sad. The obscene tattoos on her body seem to glow in the lantern light. The vendor pulls her again, the leash on her pierced nipple tightening. Lakaiger moans in pain.

Vendor: (Mocking). Do you hear that? The slave moans. Nobody cares about your tears, you worthless whore!

Lakaiger looks at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. She gets up and continues dragging the metal ball, her strong legs trembling. The vendor follows her, hitting it with a stick to make it move faster. The crowd watches, some with pity, others with indifference, and still others with a cruel smile. You, the spectator, stand there, helpless, watching the scene.