The screen flickered once more, revealing a small figure huddled in the corner of a cramped cage. It was a young boy, no older than fourteen, with a mop of messy blonde hair that fell over his vacant emerald eyes. His delicate frame was clothed in tattered grey rags that might have once been white, now stained with dirt and what looked suspiciously like dried blood.

But it was not the boy's pitiful state that drew the eye. No, it was the angry red brand seared into the tender flesh of his neck - a string of numbers and letters that marked him as property, a commodity to be bought and sold. The skin around it was still raw and blistered, wisps of smoke rising from the fresh burn.

Aventurine - for that was the boy's name - leaned listlessly against the cold metal bars of his prison. His gaze was unfocused, staring at nothing, as if his spirit had fled and left behind only an empty shell. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional rattle of chains as he shifted position.

[Stella: Oh god... he looks so pitiful.]

[Huohuo: What a wretched state... it's heartbreaking.]

[Jing Yuan: Slave trading has long been outlawed in Xianzhou territory. Alas, in the vast expanse of the cosmos, there are still star systems that cling to such barbaric practices.]

[Aventurine: ...]

A mocking voice cut through the silence like a knife: "Welcome back, Number 35. How do you like your new accessory?"

Outside the unyielding steel cage stood a man dressed in opulent silks, a burning cigarette dangling from his lips. His handsome face was twisted into a cruel smirk as he exhaled a plume of acrid smoke, his predatory gaze fixed on the boy within.

"A serial number as an accessory?" Aventurine's voice was hoarse from disuse, but a hint of defiance still colored his words. "How... quaint."

"Shut your fucking mouth, you Tzigane mongrel," the man snarled, his facade of civility crumbling in an instant. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak."

Aventurine's body tensed, his lips quivering with suppressed rage. But he held his tongue, the fear of reprisal overriding his desire to lash out.

The man's anger faded as quickly as it had flared, replaced by a calculating gleam in his eye. "Those black-suited bastards didn't say much about how you survived that little... culling. But I'd say you're one lucky little shit, wouldn't you agree? Lucky enough that I decided to add you to my... collection."

He paused, savoring the moment before continuing: "So here's your first task, boy. Simple enough even for Tzigane filth like you. I bought thirty-four other slaves along with you. You're going to play a little 'game' with them."

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The man's voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Two days. That's all you get. Survive, and maybe you'll prove you were worth the investment."

"Are you insane?" Aventurine's eyes widened in disbelief. "You'd risk throwing away your money like that?"

A bark of laughter escaped the man's lips. "Money? Oh, you simple child. I have more wealth than your pathetic little mind could comprehend. The galactic slave markets are overflowing with self-important brats like you."

His gaze raked over Aventurine's form, a hint of avarice creeping into his expression. "Though I must admit, you do have a... certain appeal. Quite a few of my associates have placed substantial wagers on your survival. So run along now, little one. Don't disappoint your master."

[Topaz: Fools who judge by appearances often meet grisly ends. Especially unfortunate fools like this one.]

[Sushang: Indeed! Considering Mr. Aventurine is now a high-ranking executive, I assume this detestable man has already met his demise? Hmph! If I ever witnessed such a thing in Xianzhou territory, my blade would find its mark swiftly!]

[Topaz: It's not my place to speak on behalf of those involved, but I suspect we'll see the resolution of this particular thread soon enough. Perhaps it's best to wait and see.]

On the screen, a fire ignited in Aventurine's eyes. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as he fought to contain the maelstrom of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he spat out: "How much?"

The man blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "What?"

"I said," Aventurine growled, his gaze boring into his captor with an intensity that belied his frail appearance, "how much did you pay for me?"

A smirk played across the man's lips. "Oh? Curious about your price tag, are we? Very well. Sixty Taan-Ba. Not a credit more, not a credit less."

At the mention of the sum, Aventurine's nails dug crescents into his palms. But his gaze never wavered as he ground out his next words: "I want to make a wager. Half of that - thirty coins. If I survive, you give them to me. Do you have the balls for that bet?"

For a moment, genuine surprise flashed across the man's face before it was quickly masked by contempt. "A bet? With you? Oh, you've got spirit, I'll give you that."

His expression hardened, voice dripping with venom. "But you seem to have forgotten your place, slave. You don't have the right to sit at the table, let alone place a wager."

He leaned in close, his breath hot on Aventurine's face. "You're nothing but a chip, boy. A piece to be tossed onto the board at my whim. Your only purpose is to bring me more winnings... or to be discarded if you prove worthless."

The man's lips curled into a cruel smile. "'All or nothing' - that's the game. Don't you dare embarrass me, you lucky little bastard."

With those parting words, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Aventurine alone with his smoldering rage and the weight of his circumstances.

"All or nothing..." Aventurine murmured, the words etching themselves into his very soul. His nails bit deeper into his palms, drawing pinpricks of blood as he seethed with impotent fury and a burning desire for vengeance.

[March 7th: The slave master's words became his own mantra...]

[Dr. Ratio: Some people spend their lives being healed by their childhood. Others spend their lives healing from it.]

[Sushang: Come to think of it, why doesn't Aventurine try to conceal his history as a slave?]

[An unnamed galactic market owner: Well, you see, there are several reasons for that...]

[March 7th: Stop, stop, stop! I don't want to hear any of that!]