A room full of people. All gathered together, talking among themselves. Maids speaking, maids silent. A master to serve. Speaking in front of everyone about a topic I already knew, a topic I overheard.
Sold…
Again, right?
I am a slave who was bought a year ago. I have lived the same things every single day. I have been living through the same days, over and over. Nothing has changed. Has a year even truly passed? I haven't learned anything, I haven't understood anything, I haven't grasped anything. This world is still completely foreign to me. It could be said that between last year and this one, I remain just as ignorant. I feel alien. I feel lost in all of this.
And now…
I was sold again. This cycle will never end. You're not supposed to get used to it. Chiyo is right—but she is wrong about one thing. Ever since she arrived here, she has trusted that she will never be sold again. Everything she has been building—her wall against feelings—is worthless, because it is nothing more than a paper wall. Lior can say it himself; he has just officially been sold once more as a slave, to a place even more unfamiliar than this one already is.
An explanation? No. It isn't necessary. I am only a slave. I do not need to know.
Lior, a demi-human cat slave with blue eyes and a feminine body. His appearance is slender and delicate. He constantly suffers from hunger, as he does not receive proper nourishment. He has a pretty, well-kept face—aside from a large mark that covers one of his cheeks. His hair reaches down to his back, since he has not cut it during this past year, and parted bangs reveal his forehead. Curiously, no hair grows on his chin or upper lip. He usually wears a maid uniform day after day, and his lifestyle is nothing more than repetition upon repetition.
His cat ears move at his will and react unconsciously as his emotions shift. His tail behaves the same way—responding to certain actions, thoughts, and feelings. It tends to brush against his legs, a sensation that is, truthfully, rather comforting.
His physical condition is moderately stable. His body has high internal endurance but low external resistance, often leaving noticeable marks on his skin. He has been used in various ways; he is a slave suited for both domestic and sexual purposes.
Each of these qualities—and more—make up the cat boy. These are the specifications that make him a reasonable purchase. There is nothing more to see or explain. It is simply him, being human and acting by nature. His life has a fair and decent price. He is nothing extraordinary—just a demi-human considered beautiful because of his physical appearance.
That is why he was bought. That was the reason for his purchase over a year ago.
But now…
He has been bought once again. It sounds like a cruel joke, but it is true.
His master, Akuma—who every night claimed to love him and want him—sold him today, this very afternoon. Akuma sold him like an object that no longer serves a purpose. Like something lifeless. Like something that no longer has value.
All those times… he lied to him, didn't he?
Lior has to understand it. He should have expected it. Things will always change. He will never be able to settle in one place for his entire life. He proved that a year ago, and now he will prove it again. It is systematic. Perhaps no one is truly to blame. Perhaps that Helmet forced Akuma to sell him. There are many reasons why it could have happened—and why it did.
Lior does not care about those reasons.
Lior no longer cares about feeling.
Lior no longer cares about this.
Lior no longer cares about anything.
Nothing…
He doesn't care about anything…
Right?
[Lior: Mhm…]
Is there any meaning to what I'm saying? No, because no one is listening. I'm talking to myself because I'm the only one who understands me. It's something natural within oneself. Everyone knows the reason for their existence—or they discover it little by little. Even if they are mad or psychotic, everyone understands, in some way or another, what their life means. Some kill themselves because they believe that is their destiny. Others live miserable lives thinking that tomorrow will be better. Some live without worrying about what tomorrow means. Others live focused on the present, watching as their lives rise or fall apart. And others cry and lament their past because they cannot change it.
[Lior: …]
Is there any meaning in that? Who knows. We live because we assume that it has meaning, don't we? Feeling empty, mutilated, dead—am I supposed to believe that is my reason to live?
[Lior: Heh…]
What a shitty joke, isn't it? A failure. A living failure that serves no purpose at all. There are no reasons, simply none. Lior has no reason to keep living—that's the conclusion one could reach by piecing together the fragments of his life at this moment. Gathering them, assembling a puzzle that has neither shape nor sense—that is what his life has been since the very first minute he arrived in this world. There is no reason for anything. He is not supposed to feel anything.
But…
[Lior: Hehe… Fhmp, ha…]
Lior still wants to see his family again, even though he knows he never will. He thinks about what he could have done before coming here, to this world. He looks toward the horizon, waiting for a new tomorrow, knowing what awaits him and how his routine will never change. He lives the present. He feels the present. He suffers the present. And he does not question it, because he knows there is nothing he can do.
Lior has feelings, and yet he is treated like a toy.
Lior is still human, after all. Waking up, breathing, getting dressed, working, eating, serving, eating, speaking, conversing, feeling, suffering. A cycle that repeats itself. A cycle that has not changed since he endured that abuse on his second night. A cycle that strips his soul bare, peeling away the fruit of his humanity and his consciousness.
He lives believing that something will change. He lived that way this entire year. Each blow was lower than the last. Each blow left marks his body had to endure. He learned that "nothing" is the best answer to everything. Nothing will turn out the way one wants. No one escapes their destiny. Anyone can die any day.
Just as he has stood at the edge of madness and death—his body and soul torn apart, baptized into something he never wanted to be part of. His life has become an amalgam of senseless emotions.
An overflowing shell…
His body is filled with emotions. He cannot lose them—they are the only thing that keeps him here. They are what tether him to what he once was. Lior will always be that boy who was once innocent, because that is his only way to survive. To remember. To have a goal. To return to his parents and tell them about his sorrow, his tragedy, his anguish. About what corners him day after day—what claws at him and kills him from the inside. What makes him feel sick. What won't let him breathe. What steals his will to live.
To go back to that. To feel that. To want that…
[Lior: It keeps me alive.]
It keeps me breathing. It keeps me sane. It keeps me alive and dreaming. It keeps death buried inside me and my nightmares embedded within me. It preserves in me a faint desire to live, even though I no longer truly feel anything toward either of those things.
I don't want this anymore. Just leave me behind, please. I've already lost everything. What else do you want? For me to die violated? I'm already dead—dead while still alive. None of this means anything anymore. I will never be able to fulfill my goal, my reason for being. I'm worth nothing now, neither mentally nor physically. My body can be used like a rag doll—for torture, for pleasure, as an object. I've become something I despise. If I cannot return as the same person I once was, then why do I struggle so much to keep living?
I am an empty shell, and yet I overflow with emotion. I am someone who still wants to be happy despite everything I've felt. I cannot live without something I can achieve—without something to hold on to.
I'm useless. Not anymore.
What does it matter what happens to the others? To those people who care for me only because they need to feel some strength from doing a good deed. What does it matter what I feel inside or out? I am nothing more than a fly in a different world—a vast world I neither understand nor comprehend.
So what now? What else am I supposed to feel?
"…"
No. No more. Nothing more.
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: This…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: It's already…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: If I try to keep that goal in front of me…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: But I can't…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: I just don't…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: Want to…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: Not anymore…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: It's…]
"…"
Nothing…
"…"
[Lior: No…]
"…"
Nothing...
"..."
[Lior: No…]
"..."
Nothing...
"..."
[Lior: No…]
"..."
Nothing...
"..."
[Lior: No…]
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________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Chiyo: These are your transfer clothes… the uniform… you can't wear it anymore.]
[Lior: …]
[Chiyo: Take it. I'll wait outside. Remember, you're not to remove the collar.]
"…"
…
"…"
…
"…"
She left…
"…"
…
"…"
…
"…"
Pick up the clothes. Start undressing. Lior's body is covered in fabric; his uniform keeps him from putting on his rags.
"…"
He removed his headdress and set it aside, then took off his apron and corset. He slipped out of his dress, his harness, and his underwear—first removing his shoes along with his stockings and garters. He looked at the new clothes and adjusted them over his body.
Lior was ready to be transferred. These were the same clothes he had been wearing when he first arrived at this place. The air brushed against every intimate part of him; the sensation was disgusting and unbearable, but there was nothing to be done. Around his neck was the collar that reminded him of his owner. He felt like a domesticated, trained animal with only one purpose in life. Nothing more than that—something he had already felt before. You lose your rights; now you are just a cat with a collar and a master to serve. Nothing changed. Nothing will change. There is no reason for it to change.
"…"
[Lior: Lior is ready, Miss Chiyo.]
"…"
Look ahead—at a future you don't have and never will. For what? He simply waits for that door to open and for Chiyo to tell him…
[Chiyo: All right. Follow me.]
She began to walk, and Lior followed closely behind. No feelings seem to remain inside him now. He could say he's curious about what his new life will be like—perhaps something will change. What will the other maids be like? From what Lior understands, the main Helmet mansion is far larger than this one. The Helmet family is much more renowned than the Eidoriku house—hence Akuma's greater respect toward Don.
Walking through these corridors one last time. Perhaps someday he'll return. By then, nothing important will remain for him here. What's the point of thinking about the future? Even so, he thinks about it—measuring the possibilities that fit a moment like this.
[Chiyo: Lior.]
[Lior: Huh?]
Crossing the hallway, bathed in the contrast of moonlight, Chiyo spoke. Startled, the cat boy came back to himself.
[Chiyo: I suppose you already know—your life will change from this point on. Once again, you'll have to adapt.]
[Lior: …]
[Chiyo: I have no idea what position or service you'll be assigned to. Your body is already prepared for anything—you just need to adjust. Never forget this past year. It's the foundation of your life from now on.]
[Lior: …]
[Chiyo: Don't forget to follow every instruction to the letter. It's useless if you don't. The punishments can be lighter or harsher—I don't know how things work over there. I've never been to the Helmet mansion. You just have to be there, obeying and obeying.]
[Lior: …]
Chiyo is giving him a moral lecture—something ordinary—but she seems more affected than usual this time.
[Chiyo: …]
Chiyo stopped. Her body ceased moving. She stood still.
[Lior: …]
Lior stopped as well.
[Chiyo: Lior, take care of yourself. I won't be able to treat your internal wounds anymore or anything like that. Do what you have to do.]
[Lior: …]
[Chiyo: Don't die. You don't have to die. The end of your life isn't what you think it is.]
[Lior: …]
[Chiyo: You are no one—so become someone.]
[Lior: …]
"…"
…
"…"
You are no one—so become someone.
Lior's eyes widened completely, opened to their fullest. He stood there, staring at Chiyo's back in astonishment.
She simply took a soft, deep breath and resumed walking forward.
"…"
Looking at that back. Lior still knows nothing about Chiyo—he never did. He doesn't know where she comes from or what she has been through. Everyone here is a stranger, each one detached from his reality. At the end, she tried to tell him something—something curious, something that normally wouldn't reach very deep inside a person.
But…
[Lior: Ah…]
His feelings—his emptiness, that void within him. She recognized it.
[Lior: …]
Who are you, Chiyo? I don't know you. Even though we worked together for more than a year, Lior doesn't know you at all. Your personality may be predictable, but no one can match your mind. No one knows what you feel. And yet, by simply being yourself, you manage to read people. You're someone who knows exactly what she's doing from beginning to end. There's no point in knowing more—it's not necessary to question your words or whether it was luck. That's just who you are. I understand, Chiyo.
You are someone who knows nothing, yet at the same time knows everything. I don't know what you've been through, and I won't ask.
Your farewell was the strangest thing, wasn't it?
[Lior: …]
The cat boy continued walking behind the cat woman in front of him. They moved through the long corridor, around the vast rectangular perimeter that led to the other end of the estate. Walking and walking—it almost felt like reaching the end, like sensing that everything was about to be over.
There they were—two beings of the same race, acting in very different ways, yet thinking in similar patterns. This would be a farewell to everything she had meant to him. She was the first who tried to help him, the one who showed him this mansion and guided him in certain things. Chiyo is indifferent, yet in her own way, she helps people without reason. No one can imagine what is going through her mind right now. No one knows what she feels, what she felt, or what she will feel. She understands she is involved in these matters—that's all, and nothing more.
Live and live…
To live and live…
That is all. That is all I will be…
But…
[Lior: I'm already dead, Chiyo.]
He whispered that behind the demi-human woman. Life is short—better to die now.
"…"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
An eternal feeling—leaving people behind. It is something hollow, without personality. A feeling that consumes you from the inside out. Not wanting to let go of what you care about can bring serious consequences. Nothing makes sense anymore; the need to think about it is simply useless.
[Tina: Goodbye… Lior…]
"…"
Outside, in the open air—a cold night without warmth. Your mind drifts to those who once mattered to you. You will leave, not because you want to, but because life is like this. Life is constant change that breeds fear—nothing more than that, and the unease of leaving everything behind. If that is what matters, then feeling no longer serves a purpose. And yet, feeling is how bonds with living beings are formed. Feeling is how one lives.
But I am already dead.
[Luciana: Bye… Lior…]
"…"
It doesn't stop. It's a feeling tied to life. Your life has no meaning—I no longer give it one. I lost it the moment I was sold for the first time. But I endured because of a cruel desire that simply…
[Lior: Goodbye…]
Will never come true.
"…"
[Lior: Bye, girls… I hope you live your lives well.]
"…"
[Tina: …]
[Luciana: …]
"…"
Those two—I don't really know them, yet they've been with me this past year. They are good people, good girls who have gone through horrible things. They don't deserve that. But sadly, the cycle will continue once I leave.
I'm not important. I'm worth nothing now.
"…"
[Lior: …]
"…"
There they are. I can see them. Thank you for caring about me when no one else did. That may not be worth much, but I will always accept it. I care about you both. Goodbye.
"…"
Goodbye…
"…"
[Lior: Goodbye…]
"…"
…
"…"
[Lylia: Come on, Lior… get in.]
[Lior: Huh? Y-Yes…]
"…"
A carriage. Barriers—this time made of wood. Iron bars, it seems, are not so common, so now I'm entering one of these. Covered by a white cloth that surrounds it completely, leaving only the exit visible—the door that opens to the outside and its frame. This time is different. This time is different.
[Lylia: Goodbye, girls. Take care.]
[Luciana: G-Goodbye, Lylia. Take care, okay?]
[Tina: Take good care. And take care of Lior, too.]
"…"
Lylia helped Lior climb into the carriage. She looked at Tina, who had made that request.
"…"
[Lylia: I'll try, Tina.]
[Tina: …]
"…"
[Lylia: Goodbye.]
"…"
There, inside the carriage, they moved away from the gates—both newly sold slaves. Lior first, and Lylia after. One last look at what had once been their home.
Goodbye. There is nothing more to say.
The door closed. A man placed a lock on it. No one could escape now. Everything had been planned—Helmet had already anticipated what Akuma would decide. A small caravan, only two vehicles: a carriage trailing behind a larger coach.
Seeing you one last time.
Moving away, heading into the unknown. I watch you growing distant, reaching the very edge of my sight. I leave, and you stay. This is an eternal farewell.
There is nothing else.
Nothing but emptiness. The abyss keeps me here. I am nothing. I am a slave. I'm leaving. Goodbye.
I watch myself drift away.
This carriage is taking you away from me.
Goodbye…
Goodbye…
To everything…
"…"