The crowd roared with a primal, greedy energy as the bids for the small vampire girl continued their relentless climb. Gold, a river of it, flowed through the air as paddles were raised and fortunes were wagered, each bid a new chain being forged around the child on the stage.
"Nine hundred!"
"Nine hundred and fifty!"
"One thousand!" a man in the front row, his face flushed with wine and avarice, bellowed.
"Bidder 14, one thousand gold!" the auctioneer called, his voice soaring with a practiced, theatrical excitement.
The girl, Yumi, stood still at the center of the stage, a tiny, fragile figure in a sea of monsters. Her rose-pink eyes, wide and luminous, scanned the crowd, yet there was no fear in them—just a profound, heartbreaking confusion, as if she were a doll that didn't understand the game being played with her. Her tiny hands curled around the hem of her soft blue dress, the fabric trembling with every shouted bid.
So small.
So fragile.
And surrounded by predators.
