In the windowless basement, the scent of metal and antiseptic mingled with the lingering smell of dried blood. Ravin walked slowly past rows of steel cages—no higher than an adult’s chest. Inside, girls with hollow gazes, frail bodies, some still barely teenagers.

But only one was locked in a special room, sealed behind triple-layered steel doors, cameras in every corner.

That girl no longer cried.

“Good,” Ravin muttered as he unlocked the door with a biometric code. “Tears are tiresome.”

He sat down on a metal chair, crossing his legs. In his hand, a lab report.

“Your eggs... stable. The highest quality we've harvested this year,” he said calmly, as if praising a work of art.

He moved closer, brushing her hair aside. Marks from repeated injections patterned her skin.

“You won’t be sold. You won’t escape. You’ll stay. Because your body is far too valuable to be wasted.”

Then he stared straight into her eyes, his smile terrifying.

“Every part of you... belongs to the market. But until your time is up, you belong to me.”