THE FIRST TIME

A sigh escaped his mouth as he reached the car. Glancing back at the door, he felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Looking around, he put his iPad on the car roof and took out a cigarette, lighting it up.

Drake fell deep into his memories of her. The first time he saw her was like witnessing a ray of sunshine in that filthy, pigsty of a place called the human auction house. Even amidst the despair and darkness, she had sparkled—a vision of light that felt almost impossible to look away from. Her smile had been radiant when their eyes met—a smile that still managed to flutter his heart, even now.

“You dirty bitch! Mop it up quickly! I don’t want to see that old faggot’s semen all over the place!” a bossy woman shouted, smacking the girl on the head as she rushed to the other side of the room.

The smile vanished from the girl’s face, and Drake’s heart sank into a pit of sorrow. His hatred for that wretched place festered further, burning hotter than ever before. He wanted to get her out of there—somehow, some way. But how could he? How could he save her without becoming a monster himself?

He thought of trying to talk to her. But as she walked toward him, his feet betrayed him, refusing to move. He felt frozen, trapped in time and space.

“Oh!” She bumped into him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sense you standing there.” Her head lowered. Before Drake could tell her it was alright, Theo arrived.

“We’re sorry about that. She can’t really see. Apologize to him. He’s a very important guest!” Theo snapped at her with a snarl.

Immediately, she dropped to her knees, apologizing to Drake.

Although he didn’t want her to do that, he couldn’t interfere. He wasn’t in the position to change things—then or now. He doubted he ever would be.

The cigarette burned to its end, its smoke dissipating into the air. As Drake flicked the stub away, Carson appeared, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Drive,” he ordered, sliding into the back seat of the car.

Drake, still unsure of what had just happened, glanced back at the window of Carson’s room before slipping into the driver’s seat.

As they drove, Carson busied himself with the papers in his hands. The silence was heavy, tension crackling in the confined space. Drake hesitated, debating whether to ask Carson what was going on. His thoughts were interrupted when Carson startled him.

“Why don’t you just sit with me?” Carson asked, his eyes still fixed on the file he was flipping through.

“I…” Drake gulped, gripping the wheel tighter. “I’m good. Sorry.” His voice faltered, and his eyes flicked nervously to the rearview mirror.

Annoyed, Carson closed the file with a snap and shot him a sharp glare. “What the hell do you want to know?”

“Huh?” Drake forced a laugh, feigning ignorance. “Know what? I don’t want to know anything.” He chuckled nervously. Deep down, though, he cursed himself for ever putting his life in Carson’s hands.

“I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something’s on your mind. Just spit it out and get off my back!” Carson’s tone was exasperated.

“Uhm… It’s just that…” Drake hesitated, his eyes darting to the mirror again. “It’s just… erm… What… what did you do with Luna?”

Carson’s eyebrows furrowed as his gaze locked onto Drake’s in the mirror. A heavy silence filled the car, stretching uncomfortably long. Finally, Carson exhaled deeply, his expression softening—just slightly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t feed her to the guards before marriage. I don’t give away untouched things.” Carson’s tone was laced with sarcasm, but Drake knew the implication was clear.

Drake sighed, feeling some relief, but the unanswered question still gnawed at him. What had happened after he left the room?

Meanwhile, Luna paced furiously, her thoughts consumed by Carson’s actions.

“What the hell is wrong with this man?!” she growled. “I’m a quirk?!” The memory of his words ignited her anger anew.

After Drake had left the room, Carson had sighed and approached her. She hadn’t noticed him until she felt his presence behind her, sending a chill down her spine.

“Huh?!” Luna gasped in fear as he snatched the clothes she had taken out of the drawer. She instinctively turned, bumping into him. Her towel was slipping, but she clutched it tightly, her fingers trembling.

“What’s so surprising?” Carson’s lips curved into a smirk as he noticed her desperate attempt to cover herself. He loomed over her, a predator toying with his prey.

Her back hit the wall, and she clutched the clothes tighter. Carson rested a hand on the wall beside her head, leaning in. She gulped, dread pooling in her stomach.

He moved closer, his face near her neck. He inhaled deeply. “You smell… flowery,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

She clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening.

Carson chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. “Are you a virgin, little kitten?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Her breath hitched, and she nodded reluctantly, her face flushing.

For a moment, Carson froze. He hadn’t expected her to answer, let alone tell the truth. His lips twitched into a smile as a thrill coursed through him.

“Interesting…” he muttered. His fingers trailed from her shoulder to her neck, then to her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her shivered breath warmed his hand.

He leaned closer, his smirk deepening. “Don’t worry. I don’t like fucking quirks,” he sneered, tossing her clothes at her.

The clothes hit her chest and fell to the floor. She stood there, frozen, her mind spiraling with his words.

“Quirk.” The word echoed in her mind like a curse. No one had ever called her that before. Was it worse than the insults she was used to—bitch, slut, hooker? For her, it was.

“We’re at Mulberry,” Drake announced, snapping Carson out of his thoughts.

Carson adjusted his posture, scanning the area. Something felt off. He could sense it immediately.

They entered the casino. The music blared, and the half-naked dancers swayed in their cages, money raining down on them. But something about the atmosphere seemed forced, unnatural.

“What’s going on?” Carson demanded, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room.

The manager, Briski, rushed over, his face pale with panic. “Nothing, sir! Why did you waste your time coming here? You should have called me. Should I bring you your favorite wine—or something more exotic? A new shipment of slim chicks arrived yesterday. A variety of them. If you wait in the VIP room, I can—”

“Briski! Briski!” Carson interrupted, stretching his lips into a strange smile.

“Yes, sir!” Briski chuckled nervously.

“I don’t like your name,” Carson said, his gaze wandering before fixing on Briski.

“Huh?!” Briski stammered, taken aback. “I… I’m sorry?”

Carson stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “It confuses me, Briski.”

“Wha… What does, sir?” Briski stuttered, sweat beading on his forehead.

“The revenue bars,” Carson said with a tight smile.

“I… I don’t get it, sir,” Briski stammered, his laughter growing more nervous.

Carson leaned in, his smile sharp as a blade. “Why does the money I earn and the money you spend here not match, little Briski?”

“I… I didn’t do it…” Briski stuttered, trembling.

Carson sighed, stepping back. “I know you didn’t.”

The bodyguards grabbed Briski, his pleas drowned out by the club’s sudden silence.

Carson crouched in front of him, his voice low and menacing. “Who did?”

Briski stared at him, unable to speak.

Carson straightened with a sigh. “I expected as much.”

With that, the guards dragged Briski to the infamous white room, his screams echoing behind them.