Upon being captured, Elira was seized by a towering gatekeeper, his iron grip bruising her arm. In a desperate attempt to break free and help Bea escape from the man's grasp, she drove the sharp end of a key straight into his left eye.
"You bitch! I swear I'll kill you!" the brute roared, clutching his bleeding eye as rage distorted his face. He seized a handful of her hair, yanking it so hard that Elira cried out, her body twisting in agony as she tried to pull away.
Moments later, several men burst into the corridor — Mr. Morgan's guards, followed closely by Elira's mother, Elinor.
"What is happening here?" Elinor demanded, her voice sharp as glass. She was dressed in a white halter top trimmed with gold, a red skirt with a high slit, and gilded cuffs glinting on her arms. Her brown hair fell in loose curls, framing her painted face and dangling gold earrings. She looked as though she were attending a lavish event rather than witnessing chaos. Beside her stood Mr. Morgan, formally dressed, his face tightening as realization struck.
"Hey, you bastard! What the hell happened here? Where are all the women?" Mr. Morgan shouted, storming from one empty cell to another, his fury echoing through the hall.
"Sorry, boss… because of this woman, the captives escaped!" the gatekeeper growled, yanking Elira's hair again. She dropped to her knees, pain coursing through her body, her breath trembling.
"You fool! How could you let them get away!" Mr. Morgan bellowed, striking the gatekeeper across the face again and again. The man staggered under the blows while Elira sat frozen on the cold floor, heart pounding, unsure whether to flee or endure.
"And you, girl!" Elinor hissed, striding forward. Her nails, long and painted crimson, dug deep into Elira's shoulders as she shook her. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Elira glared up at her mother, eyes burning with defiance despite the pain. "Good! I'm glad they escaped! Better that than being sold like animals! You're no better than a pig, Mother!"
"You— you ungrateful bitch!" Elinor's face contorted with rage, her hand already lifting to strike.
"Boss!" called a man suddenly — Mr. Morgan's assistant rushing in. "The VIP guests are waiting. What should we do?"
Elinor's raised hand froze mid-air. Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she turned to Mr. Morgan. "Since we've got one left," she said coldly, "why not sell her instead? You said she's got those rare golden eyes, didn't you?"
Mr. Morgan's gaze darkened. He stepped forward, crouching before Elira and gripping her face so hard that her cheeks pressed painfully together. "Tsk… Lucky for us, you're the one left. Dress her up! Make her look seductive — something revealing!"
"Yes, sir!" The servants hurried over, their expressions empty, lifeless. They grabbed Elira's arms, forcing her to her feet. Elinor stood among them, watching with chilling calm as they dragged her daughter toward the dressing room.
"NO! I don't want this! Somebody help me!" Elira screamed, her voice cracking in terror. She kicked and twisted, but no one dared to listen — or perhaps no one cared.
Her cries echoed through the corridor until the heavy door slammed shut behind her. The bidding event had begun… and Elira's nightmare was far from over.
As Bea helped the other women escape, she searched desperately for anyone who might help her to save Elira. It was Elira's final instruction — to go to the address she had given her, the home of Sylas. Elira had told her, "If you happen to bump into a tall man — about six foot four, with silver hair, silver eyes, and pale skin — that's Sylas. Seek his help immediately."
The only problem was that Sylas's house was far away — on the opposite side of the Lust District. If Bea tried to run through it, she would have to face the crowds that were already gathering there. So, she chose another route, weaving through narrow alleys in the hope of finding a faster escape.
Her feet pounded against the cobblestones, her breath uneven as panic filled her chest. The night air carried the distant echoes of shouting guards. Bea turned sharply into another alley — and suddenly collided hard with someone.
The two, heading in opposite directions, bumped into each other with enough force to make Bea stumble backwards. Pain shot through her shoulder as she steadied herself, blinking rapidly. In front of her stood a tall man in a brown coat, his expression cold and unyielding.
As Bea lifted her gaze, her eyes widened in shock. The silver hair. The piercing silver eyes. The pale skin.
It was him.
The man Elira had described — Sylas.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. Sylas's sharp eyes studied her briefly, assuming she was just another passerby. When he saw she wasn't injured, he turned, ready to continue his search — for Elira, for the bar called Pleasuring Me.
But before he could take another step, Bea's trembling hand shot out and gripped the hem of his coat.
Sylas froze and looked back at her, irritation flashing across his face. "What do you think you're doing?" he snapped.
Bea's lips quivered, her voice breaking as she tried to speak. "I… I know who you're looking for…" she stammered.
Sylas's expression shifted — the sharpness in his eyes replaced by sudden alarm. The girl's trembling gaze held his, filled with desperate certainty.
"I know where Elira is — and she needs your help, before it's too late!" Bea cried, her voice trembling yet filled with determination.
At the sound of Elira's name, Sylas's eyes widened. He seized both of Bea's arms, his grip firm, urgency spilling from his voice. "Where is she?!"
"Follow me — hurry, before it's too late!" Bea urged, pulling his arm and sprinting through the narrow street. Sylas didn't hesitate. With his cloak billowing behind him, he followed her into the dark maze of alleys — toward the place where Elira awaited her fate.
*****
"Tsk! Look at you—you almost look like me! Hahaha!" Elinor's laugh was sharp and cruel, each word slicing into Elira like a blade.
Elira didn't flinch. She couldn't even think clearly — all she knew was that the dress was far too revealing for her, and the weight of it made her skin crawl. The cold, artificial lights of the stage made every inch of her exposed. Before she could gather herself, Elinor yanked her forward again, dragging her toward the backstage area where she would have to wait, trembling, as Mr Morgan addressed his high-paying clients outside. Elira's hands clutched at the flimsy fabric, her shoulders hunched, her stomach twisting with shame and fear.
"Be obedient," Elinor snapped, shaking her shoulders. "Or we will kill you! Do you understand?"
Elira's voice trembled. "Why… why are you doing this to me, Mother?"
"Silence!" Elinor barked, gripping her chin and forcing her to look forward. "Do you not see? I am selling you. You owe me for everything I've done! I fed you, I raised you—you should be grateful I didn't discard you when I had the chance!"
Elira's chest tightened, rage and despair tangling together. "It would have been better if you had!" she shouted, her voice raw. "Better than this suffering!"
Slap!
Pain exploded across her cheek. Her head snapped sideways, her eyes wide with shock.
"You wretched child!" Elinor spat, her nails digging slightly into Elira's shoulders. "Had I known what a headache you would be, I would have ended it before it began!"
Elira's hands trembled as they gripped her skirt. Anxiety coiled tightly in her chest, her mind screaming for escape, wishing it were all just a nightmare. She had no idea how she could survive what was about to come.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr Morgan's voice boomed, filling the hall. "I present to you the final treasure of the night — the Golden-Eyed Goddess!"
Elinor shoved Elira forward. She stumbled onto the stage, knees weak, hands clutching her skirts, every muscle in her body stiff with panic. She forced herself to stand upright, her heart hammering in her chest. Murmurs ran through the crowd.
"What a splendid beauty!""I want her!""The golden eyes!"
Elira's stomach turned at the attention. The men below her eyes were like hungry wolves, circling, waiting for the moment to claim her. She felt trapped, the stage hot under her feet, the glittering eyes of Mr Morgan and Elinor burning into her like fire.
Her outfit—a deep red two-piece adorned with gold embroidery and turquoise stones—clung to her body. A sheer veil framed her face. Every breath made her chest ache, and every murmur of admiration from the crowd felt like a weight pressing down on her which made her look like a goddess.
Bids started to fly.
"Twenty gold pieces!"
"Thirty!"
Another man shouted his bid, his voice echoing through the hall, while Elinor and Mr Morgan's eyes glittered with gold, reflecting the excitement of the moment. Elira shrank back, her hands twisting in the fabric at her hips. Fear tightened around her like a vice.
"Higher?" Mr Morgan's voice rang, sharp and commanding.
"WAIT! IS SHE A VIRGIN?" one of the men barked, confirming whether Elira was still untouched. Fear clenched Elira's chest as the bidding began to spiral.
"Yes, of course, my lords," Mr Morgan replied, his tone smooth, almost rehearsed.
"How can we be sure?" another client asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Then check for yourself," Mr Morgan said, his lips curling into a cruel, mocking smile.
Elira froze. "What…?" she gasped, shock paralyzing her.
Before she could react, Mr Morgan gave a sharp push, sending her tumbling forward onto the stage.
"Ack!" Elira cried, pain radiating through her entire body from the harsh impact. She staggered, her knees buckling slightly on the floor, as she lifted her golden eyes, trembling. The men below leaned forward like wolves circling their prey, their gazes greedy and unrelenting. Her body shook uncontrollably as she inched backward, desperate to escape their scrutiny, to hide herself from their leering stares.
"Such a fine, beautiful woman," another man muttered, licking his lips, eyes glinting with dangerous desire.
"No! Let me go!" Elira shouted, struggling, twisting away from their hands as they reached for her. Her body pressed backward against the stage, panic making her limbs weak. She didn't know which way to turn, every escape blocked. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
"Go away! Leave me alone!" she sobbed, her voice trembling. Cornered, surrounded by predatory eyes, she felt the walls of the stage close in, suffocating her.
"I don't want this!" she whispered, voice cracking, the panic rising in her chest. She searched desperately for help, but no one was there — only the cruel gleam in her mother's and Mr Morgan's eyes.
Then, as one man reached out, lifting her skirts, a single thought pierced through her fear: the memory of a warm, protective smile.
"S-Sylas!" she screamed, her voice breaking, calling out the name of a man she hoped could save her.
BANG!
The hall erupted with noise as the doors flew open, slamming against the walls. Every head turned instantly.
Elira's eyes widened as two figures stepped through the entrance. Light from outside caught their sharp features — Sylas and Cassian, their bodies coiled like predators ready to strike. Rage and determination blazed in their eyes; their presence alone sent a shiver through the crowd.
"SYLAS! CASSIAN!" Elira screamed, tears streaming freely, her voice raw with desperation and hope.
The two men moved forward, each step deliberate, each glance focused on her. Their expressions were fierce, almost beastly, as though nothing would stop them from reaching her. The hall seemed to shrink around them, and for a heartbeat, Elira's terror gave way to the fragile flicker of salvation.
And just like that, the chaos was about to explode.