— Only sixty Tanba?

Kakavasha feels like he's going to throw up every time he hears those numbers. 60 Tanba, the price of his soul, his body, and his miserable life. A price for which anyone would be willing to ruin someone else's life.

He remembers this place well: the same vile marketplace, where the shelves are filled with lives instead of goods, and the customers are those who would break those lives, grab them with their vile hands, and throw them into the boiling pot for eternal agony. He'd been there before.

When the owner got bored with a toy, he simply returned it to where he got it from.

This time Kakavasha didn't even have his hands tied — the metal collar on him was enough to make sure the "product" were safe. Though it seemed he wouldn't have been able to escape anyway — the pain was too intense to envelop his entire body. He seemed to be defective, which was why the owner was selling him without raising the price.

— I take him.

Kakavasha stares, looking intently, even if his gaze is almost inanimate. Did someone agree to buy such a used toy? Even for him, it was surprising. But no one seems to have given him the command 'speak'.

Either way, it would end the same way.... or?