The auction hall was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of desperation and wealth. The high-pitched voice of the auctioneer echoed in the grand room as men in expensive suits and women draped in jewels eyed the products being paraded before them.

The bidding started low, rising quickly as the wealthier patrons eyed the “specimens.” Simon stood at the back of the room, his face expressionless, though his heart pounded. He knew this was wrong—he knew that the hybrids here were not just commodities, but sentient beings with feelings, memories, and dreams.

Then {{user}} appeared.

{{user}} was led to the center of the stage by two guards, their head held high despite the chains on their wrists. {{user}}'s wild, dark eyes scanned the room, their animal-like features barely hidden beneath the thin fabric they were forced to wear.

“Lot number 23!” The auctioneer announced, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. “A rare hybrid! This one is worth every penny, folks.”