“Dear big brother, let’s just buy her. She’s as pitiful as a stray in winter.”

“Mm. Better she drift into our hands than be swept to those wolves.”

With the Foxfolk girl’s auction nearing its dusk, Lingxiao and Lingsaki spoke up like twin sparrows on a branch. The price had climbed to around one hundred and three thousand coins, a small tide of gold washing over the hall. Qirui’s smile glittered like a merchant’s scales; she looked ready to net another fat catch.

“I was thinking the same.” I let the thought settle like dusk light, then turned. “Nalu, what’s the exchange between gold coins and Purplegold Coins?”

Pity tugged at me like a cold wind—seeing a Foxfolk girl penned like a caged bird, sold as goods under iron bars. Since we’d crossed paths, I might as well extend a hand.

“Normally, one Purplegold Coin trades for ten thousand gold coins,” Nalu answered, voice smooth as silk. “If it’s minted by the Mizumi Clan, the price climbs like the sun.”

“So this bid’s about eleven Purplegold Coins. Cheap as spring water in a clay cup.”

I thought of the armorer’s ‘tour fee’—twelve Purplegold Coins tossed like pebbles into a lake—and couldn’t help a dry laugh.

“That’s for you, Yumigawa,” she said, gentle as rain. “Most nobles don’t hold that much wealth; Purplegold Coins are rare as starlight.”

“Rare?” Lingxiao frowned, a snowflake of doubt drifting. “The Central Continent’s full of Purplegold mines, most abandoned, left to moss and silence.”

“Because most Purplegold mines cluster on the Central Continent,” Lixue said, cool as moonlight on water. “To the outside, they’re as scarce as pearls.”

Nalu nodded like a reed in wind. “Outside the Central Continent, you almost never see Purplegold mines.”

“I see… Brother, hurry. The clock’s trembling on its last beats.”

The price froze at one hundred and ten thousand coins, a still pond. No one stepped in. Lingsaki leaned forward, voice quick as a bird’s wing.

“Fair point.”

Before Qirui’s count could fall to one, I pressed the bidding button like striking a gong in fog. “I bid twelve Purplegold Coins.”

…

Why would Lord Yumigawa Sumeragi buy such a humble beastman girl? Qirui’s thoughts fluttered like moths around a lamp. Her beauty was fine, a moon in a small pond, yet nowhere near the radiant faces at his side. She knew guessing at the wind was pointless, so she shelved the thought like a book.

She shook her head to clear the dust, then raised her voice, bright as a bell. “Any price higher than twelve Purplegold Coins? If not, this beastman girl goes to the guests of VIP Room One!”

“Using Purplegold Coins for a slave? What a bonfire of wealth!”

“Right? Regular gold sits unused, and he throws Purplegold around like fireworks—pure show-off.”

“Whatever. It’s not our purse burning.”

The crowd churned, a pot of voices simmering. They gawked at Yumigawa Sumeragi spending Purplegold like snowflakes, yet no one bid again; one hundred twenty thousand for a slave was a mountain for a pebble, even for a Foxfolk girl with a flower’s face.

“Three, two, one—time’s up! No higher than twelve Purplegold Coins, sold to VIP Room One!”

She sent maids to deliver the Foxfolk girl, then steadied herself like a dancer between notes and flowed into the next item’s song.

…

Thump-thump—the knock came like a drum in evening fog. A maid’s voice drifted through the door, sweet as honey. “Honored guests, the Foxfolk girl you won has arrived.”

“Hold on.”

I set my teacup down, steam curling like a ghost. I rose, but Nalu slipped ahead, a quick shadow, and opened the door. The Foxfolk girl stood freed from the iron cage, chains unwound like dead vines. She trembled, a leaf in wind, eyes empty as a dry well.

We sent the maid away, and Nalu guided the girl inside like leading a foal to shelter. I found myself studying her—no visible wounds, a body kept unmarred to fetch a higher price. Yet her face was pale as paper, her steps wavering like reeds; she looked one breath away from falling.

Grrr…

Her eyes sparked, faint as embers, when she caught the food on the table. Her stomach groaned like a small drum, and a blush rose on her cheeks like dawn.

“Want to eat?”

I kept my voice soft, a lantern shielded from wind.

“…Mm.”

She watched me for a long moment, wary as a field hare, then gave a careful nod.

“Eat slowly. Don’t be shy,” I said, voice easy as warm tea. “If it’s not enough, just ask the auction staff to bring more.”

“…Thank you.”

She bowed, a willow bending, then took a fruit and nibbled in tiny bites, like a bird pecking dew.

“You don’t need to be so stiff. Sit down and eat; let worries drift like clouds.”

“Yeah! We aren’t villains; no need to fear shadows,” Lingsaki chimed, bright as sunlight.

“Brother bought you out of pity,” Lingxiao added, calm as lake water. “No other thought lurks in the grass.”

“Food’s plentiful. Eat your fill,” Lixue said, cool as a breeze.

“Ahem—don’t overthink it,” Lanxia drawled, smug as a fox strutting in a tiger’s shadow. “Yumigawa’s sisters and Miss Lixue outshine you by half the heavens, and their status is mountains apart.”

“…I understand—eh? Milady, did you just say ‘Yumigawa’?”

She paused mid-bite, gaze snapping to Lanxia like a hawk spotting movement.

“That’s right! The one who bought you is Yumigawa!”

“Yumigawa… from the Mizumi Clan on the Central Continent?”

“What other Yumigawa is carved on this world’s tablet?”

“…”

She set down the stripped fruit core like a small bone, then crawled forward and knelt before me, forehead nearly kissing the floor. “Lord Yumigawa, please save my tribe! I have nothing worthy to repay your river of kindness, but I’ll be your beast of burden for life… even if I’m a slave you purchased.”

“Uh…”

Her plea struck like sudden thunder, and for a breath I stalled.

“What’s happened to your tribe?”

“And by the way, you’re not a slave,” Lingsaki said, firm as a gate bar. “The Mizumi Clan holds no slaves; we hate the word like bitter smoke.”

“Thank you for hearing me,” she said, tears beading like rain on leaves. She wiped them away, then steadied her voice like a flute. “My tribe—the Foxfolk among the beastmen—faces extinction, a cliff edge crumbling…”

Books speak of it like wind through pines: Foxfolk don’t outshine the Elven Kind, yet they’re known for beauty—men and women both—flowers in a thorny field. Slavers and strong neighbors—the Tigerfolk and Wolffolk—covet them like hunters eyeing silver pelts.

The Foxfolk refused chains; they fought slavers as if swatting mosquitoes and clashed with Tigerfolk and Wolffolk under stormy skies. But their power was thin as paper; how could reeds stand against thunder trees?

In a year or two, the Foxfolk fell like leaves. Many died in battle; many were snatched in nets; their numbers dwindled like a guttering candle. Calling it extinction wasn’t a cry of drama but a winter truth.

The girl’s name was Ailaya Silverfox, granddaughter to the vice chief. Yesterday she went for herbs among moss and shade, only to be netted by slavers and tossed onto iron wheels.

“…That’s the tale,” she said, still kneeling like a rock in rain. “Lord Yumigawa, please save the Foxfolk! If you speak once for us, I swear no one will dare bully us again.”

“Poor thing,” Lingxiao whispered, heart soft as silk. “Brother, let’s help the Foxfolk; it’s a simple lift of the hand.”

“This is cruel beyond bearing,” Lingsaki added, eyes sharp as frost. “Brother, I want to help.”

Their sympathy welled like spring water, and mine echoed it, a quiet drum. It was truly pitiful.

“Ailaya, is your tribe far from Moonhundred City?”

“It’s a bit far,” she said, hope flickering like candlelight. “The Foxfolk live in a forest near the Ice Rock Empire’s border. Um… Lord Yumigawa, you’ll save us?”

She looked up, eyes bright as stars after rain.

“Mm.” I smiled, easy as a summer breeze. “Like Lingxiao said, it’s just a lift of the hand. I’m actually curious about beastmen; a visit sounds good.”

“Thank you again, nobles of the Mizumi Clan!” Ailaya bowed low, gratitude flowing like warm wine. “You’re the gentlest humans I’ve met since I first opened my eyes.”

“…”

Her ragged slave garb hung in tatters, an ugly shadow in a bright room. It felt wrong, like mud on fine silk.

“Yumigawa, what’s up?” Nalu asked, a soft leaf-fall of concern.

“Nalu, have the maids bring a few outfits for Ailaya,” I said, voice steady as a stone path. “And before that, have them draw her a bath to wash the dust.”

“Understood.”

“That’s that. Ailaya, eat till your belly’s warm, then take a bath and let the grime flow away.”

“…Yes! Lord Yumigawa, thank you so much. I don’t even know how to repay this ocean of kindness.”

“No need to repay. We’re just lending a hand the way wind lifts a kite.”

…

With our gentle words like feathered fans, Ailaya finally set her worries down. In a blink, most of the food vanished into her, warmth kindling like a hearth. Soon, full and calmer, she was led by respectful maids toward the bath, steam awaiting like a misty valley.

Not long ago she was merchandise on iron wheels, a number on a ledger. Now the Moonhundred Auction House treated her with a bow and soft steps. The flip felt like heaven turning over; out in the wider world, without strength or backing, life is a hell with iron teeth.

The weak are truly pitiful—unable to steer their own fate or their tribe’s, lying on the butcher’s block like lambs under a cold moon.

…