Lifting the curtain aside, Commodus ushered Mio into the adjacent tent.

The stench of waste vanished, replaced by fragrant incense. Cages lined both sides. On the left, muscular, handsome men filled the enclosures. Some wore silk robes, appearing refined. Others bared powerful muscles, radiating wild charm. A few donned armor, projecting warrior strength. On the right, slender beauties wore exquisite gowns and costly jewelry. They resembled canaries in gilded cages. Each slave bore steep prices. The cheapest was tagged at 50 silver coins. The most expensive demanded three gold coins.

As Mio entered, curious gazes followed her. The caged beauties offered tender, affectionate looks. Male slaves flexed muscles, striking poses to showcase their bodies. Suddenly, Mio sensed a dangerous stare. She turned. One male slave displayed his physique—but had an erection. Pervert! Mio looked away, barely restraining the urge to draw the Punisher and shoot him.

“These are our guild’s premium selections,” Commodus said. “All healthy, well-trained in etiquette. Perfect as servants or favorites. Some are combat-trained guards or gladiators. By the way… may I ask your name, young lady?”

“My name is Mio,” she replied. “From the Northern Lands.”

“So you’re a freeman,” Commodus beamed. “I haven’t seen silver hair and fair skin like yours in ages. Even in the North, it’s rare. Barbarians raise silver-haired girls as divine sacrifices. Such a waste.”

At “sacrifice,” Mio’s shoulders trembled slightly. She touched her chest, feeling a faint ache in her still heart. Theresa’s memory—pierced by her father’s sword.

“I have a question,” Mio said. “Does your guild deal in non-human slaves?”

“Non-human? Beastkin?”

“Yes, Beastkin.”

“The North lacks Beastkin,” Commodus muttered. “This way, Lady Mio. For Beastkin slaves, you’ve come to the right place.”

They stepped into the backyard. Sturdy wagons stood there, fitted with large cages. Groups of naked slaves huddled inside, shivering. Their treatment was far worse than the tent’s humans. Mio observed closely. All had beast-like ears, tails, and long, sharp claws. As Commodus neared, they stirred. Fangs bared, claws extended, low growls rumbled. Like wild animals.

“Behave!” a guard yelled, banging an iron rod on a cage. The slaves flinched, their bravado crumbling into fear.

“Forgive the scene, Lady Mio,” Commodus said. “Fresh Beastkin from the East. Forest-dwellers, like beasts. Hard to tame—only fit for labor. Lady Mio? Are you listening?”

He turned. Mio stared wide-eyed at the beast-eared slaves, her eyes sparkling. Commodus realized she’d ignored his words. She watched them with intense curiosity.

“So cute…”

“Excuse me?” Commodus blinked. “Did you say something?”

“Boss,” Mio turned. “These kids are super cute!”

Seeing her radiant gaze, Commodus smiled wryly. Her mature aura vanished, replaced by youthful energy. Utterly charming—even he couldn’t help but smile. A beautiful girl’s allure was powerful.

“Honored one.”

A voice came from a cage. Mio and Commodus looked over. In a corner, behind beast-eared children, an elderly white-haired woman gazed at Mio.

“Are you speaking to me?” Mio replied in the Beastkin tongue. Yao Ye’s gift let her speak any language—even extinct ones.

“You truly know our tongue,” the old woman said. “Was someone teaching you?”

“No. But I can speak it.”

“Then… I have an impertinent request.”

“Speak freely.”

Commodus watched, astonished and excluded. Beastkin were hard to tame due to their alien language. Only eastern hunters understood it. He reassessed Mio. Her beauty alone was priceless. She could read, write, and speak multiple tongues—each skill boosting her value. As a freeman, she was tempting. But his instincts warned of danger. She radiated a veteran’s aura. Her elegant walk hinted at etiquette training. Her steady gait betrayed combat discipline. Commodus knew strength—he’d traded gladiators. Even with all his slavers, he doubted he could subdue her. Failure meant legal trouble and risking her backers’ wrath.

“Lady Mio?” Commodus interjected. “Other beastkin? Scalekin over there. Natural armor, loyal. Already tamed—perfect guards.”

“Sorry, one moment,” Mio turned. “I’m negotiating with the grandmother.”

“Negotiating?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay.”

Uneasy but curious, Commodus saw a chance to study Beastkin. Perhaps learn to tame them.

“Back to the point,” Mio said to the elder. “Whom do you wish to entrust to me?”

“Her.” The old woman lifted a cloth, revealing a young Beastkin child. Bright, watery eyes stared shyly at Mio.

“So adorable!” Mio exclaimed.

“This child is Amber,” the grandmother said. “A beloved Child of the Forest. Highly revered. But my life fades. I feel my flame dimming. I can no longer protect her. Take her, if you can.”

“If she’s so precious, why me?”

“You’re a powerful Chosen One,” the elder said. “Your strength surpasses the High Forest Priestess. Gods grant power only to the noble. Your divine protection proves your worth.”

“I see,” Mio smiled wryly. Her protector was the Reaper.

“Mr. Commodus,” she turned. “I’ll buy the child in her arms. What’s the price?”

“Let me see.” Commodus peered at Amber. The girl hid in the grandmother’s lap. “That ‘albino.’ Cute, but short-lived.”

“No matter. I want her.”

“Alright.” Commodus pulled out an abacus. “Transport: 13 silver. Food: 28 copper. Purchase: 10 copper. Fees and commission… total 37 silver 57 copper.”

“Deal.” Mio flicked a gold coin onto his abacus. “Keep the change—62 silver 43 copper back. Freebies appreciated.”

Instantly calculating, Commodus raised his estimation. Her mental math surpassed top accounting slaves. His price was inflated—Beastkin children usually cost 1-10 silver.

“A matching outfit and Slave Contract are free.” He handed the coin to a slave. “Thank you. Wait here.”

He signaled a slaver. The man grabbed an iron rod, opened the cage, and entered. The grandmother didn’t resist. She reluctantly handed Amber over, then looked at Mio.

“The Child of the Forest is in your hands.”

“I’ll care for her well,” Mio nodded. “Thank you for your trust.”

In the front tent, sipping tea, Mio asked about Beastkin care. Keep them clean. Groom fur. Trim claws. Like cats, she thought. After fifteen minutes, an elderly slave led out Amber. Dressed in plain linen, she looked stunning. Rare as an albino, short-lived—but undeniably cute.

Mio instinctively lifted her. Commodus tensed. But Amber didn’t claw. She clung to Mio’s neck, peering shyly at the slaver.

“I’ll take her now,” Mio said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for your business,” the slaver rubbed his hands, smiling. “Visit us again for the finest slaves.”