Virgin Slave of the Cold-hearted Mafia

TWO—VIRGIN FOR SALE

In the weeks that follow, all Mei knows is darkness. Her blindfold is never removed as she’s being transported. Twice a day, she is roughly roused from sleep and force-fed. The food is drugged, and she doesn’t struggle. The pain of Kaz’s betrayal rests heavily upon her. She allows herself to be led on bathroom breaks, indifferent to whether the attendant is male or female. Her waking hours are consumed with thoughts of her father and how heartbroken he must be. She regrets that her final words to him were, “I hate you.”

She imagines Kaz and his father celebrating their victory as the next in line, in the absence of her father’s heir. The bitterness that follows these thoughts is enough to make her eagerly welcome the drugged food that plunges her into nightmares.

One evening, she wakes up and realizes she is no longer bound. The surrounding room seems steady. As she squints into the semi-darkness, she hears a sound from ahead. She hurriedly stands and bangs her head on an iron bar. “Ouch!” she exclaims, falling back to the ground, rubbing her head in annoyance.

She retries, carefully, fearful of hitting her head again. As she rises, she discovers she can’t stand straight. She trails her fingers along the cold object above her and recoils in shock. Thick metal bars. In disbelief, she drops back to the ground and crawls to her right, meeting the same cold metal. Panic surges as she realizes she’s in a cage.

Mei swallows a scream of horror, her breath coming in rapid gasps. Distantly, she registers she’s hyperventilating. She hurriedly buries her head between her knees, trying to calm her racing heart. Suddenly, an uproar of voices breaks her concentration.

Mei whips her head up to see two silhouettes entering the dim room.

“Looks like the ultimate prize is awake,” one of them says in a nasty, slurring voice. Mei scrambles backward in terror, preparing to fight for her life against the men approaching her. A key jingles, the door to her cage swings open. “Come on, let’s see you walk,” one man says gleefully.

Swallowing her fear, Mei tentatively steps out. She stretches to her full height, clenching her fists by her side to hide her terror. A rough pull on her hand makes her skin crawl, but she allows herself to be led out obediently.

Bright light momentarily blinds Mei as she is led into another room. Two veiled women immediately approach her. “Put her in the finest wear and make sure she’s ready in five,” the man says.

“Wanna bet the Leopolds would buy her?” the first man asks his companion. Mei turns to see that he’s masked, like her captors at the palace that day. She steps back in fear, realizing the implication of his words. “Buy?” She wasn’t for sale.

The women take her through a side door, shutting away the nightmarish memories stirred by the masked men.

Mei endures a thorough washing and grooming. When she looks in the mirror, she recoils in disgust.

Her black hair is styled in a bun, with a few strands curled around her face. Her skin is dusted lightly in powder, her eyelids and lashes sprinkled with gold-flecked glitter. She’s dressed in a simple gown that falls to the floor, hugging her curves. One shoulder is left bare. She looks like a courtesan from the pleasure districts back home. They want to sell her off for her body. Her face goes slack in shock. Just as she’s about to succumb to a full-blown panic attack, one of the women notices and pulls her roughly aside, shaking her to her senses. “Act confident. Show weakness, and you’ll be torn apart and sold for less than a servant boy. Nobody mistreats merchandise they’ve spent a fortune on,” she whispers harshly. “Good luck.”

Almost immediately, the masked men return for Mei. She sees hunger in their eyes and dreads walking down any dark hallways alone with them. One woman offers to escort her, and the men silently permit it.

The roaring voices of a hundred people reach her ears as she’s led into a room the size of an arena. Blazing lights illuminate the stage, while the seating area remains cloaked in darkness. The MC on stage—a short man in a blue pinstriped suit and joker mask—waddles over.

“Finally, the moment we have all been waiting for,” he screams into his mic. “The greatest Asian beauty of the night!” The crowd cheers as Mei is walked to the stage’s center.

“That’s right,” the MC continues. “This one is rare—educated, and most importantly, a virgin.” The roar of voices from the stands reaches a crescendo, and Mei takes a step back in fear. Remembering the woman’s words, she clenches her fists by her side. Slowly, she lifts her head, peeking demurely at the crowd. She involuntarily bats her lashes, and the crowd goes wild again.

“Bidding starts at 100k,” the MC roars.

“300!” a female voice calls, and the number climbs rapidly.

“500!” a husky voice shouts, to which another woman responds, “650.”

The bid escalates, and Mei struggles to contain her emotions as the amount creeps closer to a million dollars.

If people are willing to pay that amount, what will they do with her? Panic rises until she notices the arena has grown eerily quiet. She’s missed something important.

Turning her gaze, she sees the MC frozen as if he’s suffered a stroke. Saliva leaks from his mask. “Wha... what?” he stutters, unable to comprehend.

“10 million,” a calm voice calls from the stands. “Or would you like me to increase it to 15? Would 15 million be enough?”

Mei feels herself take a step back, then another, and another. 15 million dollars? Why would someone buy her for that amount? What would he do with her? Surely, nobody pays 15 million dollars for a night of pleasure.

Gathering her dress, she sprints for the exit. Chaos erupts behind her as voices scream for her to stop.

Before the gaping guards can react, she darts past them, fueled by adrenaline.

She races down five hallways before being caught. The MC himself skids behind her, his overlarge belly bouncing as he struggles to catch himself. The staff and guards glare down at her as she is hoisted back. She struggles aimlessly to free herself, but they hold strong. No one is willing to let 15 million dollars slip so easily.

Eventually, she’s brought into a brightly lit room and forced into a chair. Looking down at her bare feet, she realizes she discarded her heels while running. What now? Is this the part where they harvest her organs? Gripping the hairpin in her hand, she prepares to fight for her life.

Moments later, the door opens, and Mei tenses in anticipation. “Raise your head,” a deep baritone commands.

She recognizes the voice—the man who bid 15 million. Slowly, she lifts her head to look at him. Her eyes widen in shock, and her mouth hangs open in disbelief. He’s wearing a mask, but his eyes...those startling blue melancholic eyes—Mei would recognize them anywhere.

Hatred. White-hot hatred like no other blazes within her. Kaz.