Even when looks deceive, this place was full of filth and grime.

Although it seemed to be an old opera house, some of the most heinous underworld rituals were still being performed right as I stood here.

I was perching on the edge of a box seat to see the other guests from above.

Rich people and members of mysterious cabals lurked, gleefully waiting to exchange one person's life for their dirty money.

I was there for one of them as well, but I wasn't there to take that life for myself; I was here to save it.

Even though I'm getting on in years, my espionage abilities were still as sharp as they were when I was younger, so tracking these auctions wasn't difficult.

The young guards I followed, who weren't all that cautious since one of them just couldn't control his mouth, were also of assistance.

Inexperience does pay off for some.

I don't believe I would be the subject of any suspicion.

This auction was already so secretive that even just knowing where it would be held and having already entered casually and confidently, the guards inside the opera would not suspect me.

A bell was rung, signaling that it was soon time for the auction to begin, so the bidders should take their seats.

I’ve already taken the liberty of replacing one of the bidders, relieving his place and taking his mask, which was the letter of invitation to this awful site.

Its design was that of a smiling fox with red streaks, a traditional image of Alaranian folklore, usually denoting a trickster.

How fitting.

The mask would cover my whole face, except for my eyes, and render me unrecognizable to most, ensuring the utmost privacy.

I was assigned seat number thirteen, squeezed between a strong, muscular man wearing a mask modeled after a red folk monster with a very long snout and furious bushy eyebrows, and a weak, sickly elderly man wearing a classical Alaranian opera mask.

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A handful of the two dozen people seated were conversing with one another in a friendly manner.

People who work in the same industry frequently recognize one another, even with the masks on.

Despite the fact that I was an outsider, they must have assumed that I was a newcomer to their industry.

I was grateful that nobody spoke to me since it must have meant they didn't think I was of any consequence.

As time elapsed and things slowly quieted down on their own, the giant red curtains were pulled back and a man stood by his lonesome on the stage.

He was known to me, and many others, as Fubai. Generally considered as one of the lowest filth in all of Alaran.

He, and his masters, were just interested in making as much money as possible, regardless of who received a raw deal—as long as it wasn't them.

Dealing in drugs, slavery, money laundering, and other crimes only cowards would commit.

Guards were yelled at by Fubai to carry in the 'wares', all of which were in stark contrast to one another.

Most of them beast-men or halflings, but there were also a few lesser elves and a dwarf.

One of them stood out to me. She wasn't someone I'd ever forget.

Aini, my precious daughter…

If you'd only known that it was me.

I had to think of a plan, but how could I free her?

I did not have enough money to buy her.

Maybe I should follow the person who buys her? Or set her free while she was being transferred?

If I start a battle with these people, I had a very slim chance of surviving, even with my strength.

What am I going to do to save her from this place?

But while I was in deep thought, thinking of strategies, there was an interruption.

One of the slaves ripped off his collar with such ease I could not believe that it was made of metal, throwing it into the audience, smashing the face of the muscular man next to me.

He went down and in shocked amazement, I looked at the slave.

A Horse Beast-Man, an equitaur, but it seemed that he was not very comfortable in his own skin.

He spoke after clearing his throat, saying, "Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. Unfortunately, there won't be any entertainment for you tonight."

Although he had a little trouble moving his lips, he talked quite elegantly. For me, though, this all was very fascinating.

Guards sprang up and pointed their weapons at the man.

To the air surrounding him, he spoke," Faye, can you take care of the people here while I liberate the slaves who're still imprisoned?" looking directly and pointed a finger, “except the man in the Anbu mask, he gives me a feeling, you know, deep down inside.”

A little fox-woman with violet hair then appeared out of nowhere and halted in front of them.

She extended a hand, and the four guards in front of her instantly exploded into a violent, bloody mass.

The blood began to fly as she held it in my direction.