Chapter 1
“Not bad, let Lucius have a taste first.” A creepy laugh echoed around her, making Summer shake uncontrollably. Tears soaked the black blindfold covering her eyes. She heard heart-wrenching screams from nearby, mixed with sounds of tearing fabric and coarse male breathing, each noise slicing through her frail nerves. It felt like it was just next door. Her wrists were bound tightly with thick ropes, making her ache. She leaned against the wall behind her, afraid to cry out, her body trembled like a chaff. Beside her, there seemed to be a dozen or so other Elara children. They were all of a similar age, each one crying, but since their mouths were muffled with cloth, their sobs came out as pitiful whimpers. Summer's trembling intensified. She regretted getting into that black car when she arrived at the bus station. But now, there was no point in regretting it. She had been brought here, with no way out... The black cloth over her eyes was yanked away roughly, the sudden brightness causing her to blink several times before she could make out her surroundings. In this shipping container-like room, a dozen young, beautiful Elara children were either sitting or lying down. Each of them was bound with ropes, their eyes and mouths covered with black fabric, unable to see or speak. A few men moved among the Elara children like they were picking out merchandise, occasionally squeezing the developing chests or groping the rounded bodies of the young girls. Seeing the humiliation and fear etched on the Elara children's faces as they wept, their laughter echoed with a sense of depravity. Tears streamed down Summer’s face once more. One man in work clothing leaned down to inspect her, pulling the cloth from her mouth. He pinched her cheek and shoved his filthy fingers into her mouth, checking her teeth. Then, surprised, he called to another man, “This one has neat, white teeth. Let's see what we can do with her.” Summer didn’t know where they intended to take her, but whatever the place was, it couldn’t be good. The heart-wrenching screams filled her ears, now muffled, sounding as if there was no breath left in the one crying out. Shaking uncontrollably, she pleaded, “Please, let me go. I won’t say a word. My mom will call the cops if I don’t come back…” “Call the cops?” The man in work clothes laughed lecherously. “That sounds fun. We love the thrill.” Summer's heart sank at his lecherous gaze, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She was being dragged by the arms, her body limp with fear. She could barely walk. As they pulled her out, she caught a glimpse of the open door next door. A man had an Elara child pinned against a table, roughly taking advantage of her. A beer bottle rolled off the tabletop, shattering on the floor, littering the ground with broken glass, cigarette butts, and crumpled napkins. In that filthy room, a young, beautiful Elara girl was being brutally assaulted by the man. The girl sprawled on the table, her body naked, her eyes void of hope. Her voice, when she screamed, was hoarse, as if sand had been forced into her mouth. Blood was streaming down her, and yet the man continued to thrust into her, grunting heavily. In no time, he growled as he climaxed. Summer watched this scene in horror, tears flowing down her cheeks. She turned and tried to run but was grabbed back, the grip nearly crushing her wrist. “I don’t want this—please let me go—” she begged, her face wet with tears, her legs softening as she collapsed to the floor. The man, however, ignored her pleas and dragged her further down the hall, stopping before another door. He knocked twice, and impatiently, a voice from within said, “Come in.” The man twisted the doorknob and yanked Summer inside, playfully inquiring about her to the man already in the room. “Hey, Boss, what do you think? Is she good enough?”
Chapter 2
In the spacious room, a brown desk stood prominently in the center, equipped with a laptop. From the summer light, a hand rested on the mouse, belonging to a man whose legs—clad in casual brown trousers—were visible beneath the desk. A pair of pristine white sneakers sat nearby. These weren’t the dirty, grimy kinds worn by the rugged man tugging at her side. No, these were clean, white athletic shoes. Summer had always been raised with good manners; her parents had instilled in her the importance of keeping up appearances. Even as a student, her mother insisted she change her clothes daily, reminding her that if her shoes got dirty, they should be cleaned. Thus, Summer assumed that boys in white sneakers were well-raised, but the man before her contradicted that belief. He was just like the band of men who casually attacked poor Elara, yet here he was, in those remarkably clean shoes. Stunned, Summer paused momentarily before the man referred to as East Brother spoke up, his voice laced with impatience, “If you don’t like her, send her away.” The man gripping Summer’s arm started to flatter, pushing her a few steps forward. “Come on, East Brother, look at her. Her teeth are straight and white. Didn’t you say you liked that? This one is hard to find…” East Brother set the mouse down and reclined back in his chair. For the first time, Summer got a good look at his face—pale skin, single eyelids, and slightly long hair. He had a short tuft at the top of his head that softened the aloofness in his gaze. His black eyes swept over her, chilling her to the core. Summer shivered, tears streaming down her face as she fought to control her trembling body. She knelt on the ground and bowed her head to the man, crying, “Please let me go. I’ll remember your kindness. Please…” Summer knew why the rough-looking man had brought her here. Soon, she would find herself on this very desk, just like that poor Elara girl next door. The thought of being subjected to unspeakable violence filled her with a terrifying dread. “Please…” she cried out, desperation coloring her voice. The rough man, annoyed at her loud bawling, yanked her hair in frustration. “What the hell are you crying for?” He raised his hand, ready to strike her head. But East Brother frowned, turning his attention to her tear-streaked face instead. “Enough. Leave her here; you can go now.” “Alright, East Brother. Enjoy yourself,” the man replied with a sleazy grin as he left, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door clicked shut, Summer backed away, tears streaming down her face, fear coursing through her whole body. East Brother opened a drawer and pulled out a knife before standing and walking toward her. Summer's teeth were chattering as she begged, “Please… don’t kill me… please…” The man loomed over her, towering like a giant beast overshadowing a trembling little rabbit. “Help!—” she screamed, pounding her head against the door. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pinning her against the door. In terror, Summer shut her eyes and let out a terrified scream, “Ah—” Then, it all went black. When she finally turned her head in fear, she saw the severed ropes lying on the floor. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, and her wide, frantic eyes locked onto the man who had returned to his seat at the desk. He spoke with a cold indifference. “Stay quiet and don’t make a fuss.”
Chapter 3
In the sweltering heat of summer, Summer found herself slipping and stumbling at the entrance. After a moment of terror, her body felt weak, devoid of any strength. Her fingers trembled as she stared wide-eyed at the man sitting in front of the computer, afraid that he would snap his fingers and command her to lie down on the desk. Facing a man who could violently overpower her at any moment, Summer was gripped by an intense fear, her gaze fixated on him, every moment feeling interminable. She furtively scanned the rest of the room, desperately seeking something—anything—that could serve as a weapon, at least something sharp, like a knife. This room was nothing like the filthy, disheveled mess of the one she had just passed. The floor was spotless, the desk was neat, and even the sofa was immaculately clean. A pillow resting on it seemed to invite a brief afternoon nap, while a neatly folded black throw blanket sat on the side, its soft edges apparently exuding a comforting aroma reminiscent of sunlight. Having surveyed the room, Summer turned her attention to the man at the desk. He had been fixated on the computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard, occasionally reaching for a glass of water beside him, only to return his focus to the screen without lifting his gaze. A full half hour passed this way, with him engrossed in his work, not acknowledging her even once. Still on guard, Summer could vaguely hear screams from a child just outside the door, followed shortly by the sound of the man’s heavy breathing. She shut her eyes, her fingers trembling with anxiety. She might be next. But she had no idea when. Whether it would be after he finished the computer work, or perhaps after dinner, or even after he took a shower, she couldn't tell. Tears began streaming down her cheeks as memories flooded back of Rhodes House, where she wanted so desperately to be. Her mom had said they were having braised pork for dinner tonight, and she longed to return to Rhodes House, to eat, take a proper bath, and lie in her own bed, resting her eyes peacefully. Oh, how she wished this was just a dream. A fleeting nightmare. The clattering of keys ceased, and the man picked up his water cup for a sip, only to find it empty. He stood up and walked toward the door. Summer stared at him in horror, her eyes wide as tears fell one by one. He was coming. He had finally come for her. Every pore on her skin felt electrified with dread. Yet, all he did was approach the water cooler by the door, refill his cup, and return to his chair at the desk. Summer watched him in a daze. He didn’t even look at her; he just drank his water and resumed typing on the computer. In the silent room, the only sounds were their shallow breaths and the rhythmic tapping of keys. Summer could take it no longer; anxiety was threatening to drive her to madness. She quivered and finally spoke up, “When… when are you… going to—” The last two words caught in her throat. The man glanced up from his computer, irritation flashing in his eyes, as if she were an unwelcome distraction. His voice came out somewhat hoarse from disuse, “What?” “Are you… not going to do anything to me?” she asked, her tears cascading down her cheeks as she locked eyes with him. “Do what?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he studied her. After a moment, it seemed realization dawned on him, and he pulled out a knife from his drawer, rising from his seat and walking toward her. Summer recoiled, retreating to the door. “What are you going to do?” There were no restraints on her. Surely, that knife wasn’t for her hair. She was shaking uncontrollably, her body pressed against the door, her voice breaking with fear, “Help me… please… don’t kill me…” The man sliced through her clothes with the knife, ruthlessly tearing her pants to the floor, while the sound of ripping fabric filled the air, punctuated by her screams. With one swift motion, he cut through her underwear.
Chapter 4
The man tossed her bare body onto the couch. As Summer let out a piercing cry and tried to dodge him, a soft blanket fell over her. It was the black blanket. She ripped it off, revealing her tearful, blurry eyes. In her line of sight, the man was bent over, furrowing his brow as he examined her legs. In his hand, he weighed a soldier's knife, letting the blade rest in his palm. After a moment, he drew the knife across her thigh, smearing the blood that trickled out onto her inner leg. Summer was taken aback, completely bewildered by his actions. Yet, she sensed, in some vague way, that he didn’t seem to have any intention of assaulting her. There was a knock at the door. It was a man in work clothes, his voice oily and lewd. “Boss Dong, dinner’s ready.” Dong rose to open the door. The instant it swung open, the worker peered in quickly, taking in the sight of scattered clothing and torn underwear strewn across the floor. His eyes scanned the room and landed on Summer, who was hiding under the thin blanket on the couch. She was crying, her face streaked with tears. Upon seeing him, her body trembled and she shrank further beneath the blanket. He couldn't tell, after all, that Boss Dong had a preference for this sort of thing. The worker mentally noted that, eagerly anticipating the next chance to deliver such a “package” directly to Dong's chamber. “Have you seen enough?” Dong asked impatiently, glancing at him. The worker quickly raised his hand to shield his eyes. “I’ve seen enough, Boss Dong. Did you want me to serve the food, or…?” “No need. I’ll get it myself,” Dong replied, stepping forward. The corridor ahead had several doors, each one muffled by the faint cries of myriad voices coming from within. Each girl, it seemed, was pressed down or brutally entered into bed, their sobs raw and piercing. Dong’s brow furrowed. The worker quickly interjected, “The guys will finish up soon. We won't disturb you for long.” Dong remained silent and headed straight for the dining area. At the dining table, a young man with a tattooed torso and bare skin was seated. He approached and called out, “Uncle Qin.” “Hmm.” Qin Zhong nodded, waiting for him to sit before saying, “I heard from the crooked-tongued Li that you took in a girl from Elara.” Dong responded with a nonchalant nod, “Yeah.” “You work yourself to the bone; it’s rare to see you with someone you like,” Qin Zhong remarked, then turned to the worker standing aside. “Keep her here. No need to send her away.” The worker promptly replied, “Got it.” Dong took a bite of his food, swallowed, and then said to Qin Zhong, “Thank you, Uncle Qin.” “We're friends, no need for such pleasantries. Besides, I’d rather serve you than have you do anything for me,” Qin Zhong chuckled as he transferred some vegetables into Dong's bowl, then paused, suddenly remembering his obsession with cleanliness. He hurriedly grinned, “Better switch to another bowl.” Dong’s face bore a light smile. “Thanks, Uncle Qin.” When he returned after dinner, he could already hear Summer’s high-pitched cries from the hallway. Furrowing his brow, he stepped into the room where Lucius and Four-eyed were tugging at Summer’s thin blanket. The discarded clothing was already gathered and tossed into the trash bin by the two. Knowing Dong’s obsession with cleanliness, the group had rushed to tidy the place up while he was eating, planning to wash the dirtied girl up nice and clean. What they didn’t expect was that she still had strength left after everything—a fact made clear as they struggled to wrestle the blanket off her. Just as they were about to carry her away, they heard footsteps at the door. “Boss Dong,” they called out. Seeing Dong's frown, they promptly added, “We’ll get her out of here quickly, Boss Dong. You go ahead, we won't make a sound.”
Chapter 5
As Lyon sat in the dimly lit prison cell, he became acquainted with a young man named Quinn Azure. Quinn was bright and tech-savvy, earning himself the nickname "The Tech Whiz." During their time behind bars, whenever the prison's computer systems malfunctioned, the guards would summon him for repairs. It didn't take long for everyone in the prison to realize that the quiet boy who rarely spoke was integral to the tech operation. When Quinn was released, he seemingly spent a fortune to get Lyon out as well, even when Lyon had another five years left on his sentence. "Kid," Quinn said, placing a reassuring hand on Lyon's shoulder, "you’ve got potential. Stick with me, and you’ll never worry about basic necessities again." Lyon wasn't particularly impressed with Quinn's lifestyle, but he felt a strong sense of gratitude. His release was a debt he intended to repay, one way or another. Today marked the second day of his commitment to Quinn. He had told Quinn that if he worked for him for three years, he would be free to go. Perhaps it was a directive from Quinn, but every one of his associates treated Lyon with undue respect, calling him "Brother Lyon" as if he held the same authority as their leader. It made Lyon uneasy. Every day was fraught with frustration and disgust, particularly as he witnessed the reality of their sinister operations firsthand. They lured young women into their grasp, paraded them around, and ultimately sold them off to the highest bidder in remote corners of the world. Lyon's role in this twisted arrangement was to help Quinn with money laundering—converting their cash into digital assets and managing investments for him. Alarmingly, he had never touched any of the girls. But today, he broke his self-imposed rule. "Put her down. I’ll take her to the washroom," he instructed a couple of men, gently lifting the trembling young woman, Elara, and cradling her in his arms as he headed toward the restroom. The restroom was barely soundproof, and nearby, the grunts and cries of another young woman echoed from behind the thin walls. Elara was shaking in his embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks as she whimpered, "Please, let me go. I’ll pay you… whatever you want, just let me go." The man who had cornered her threw her under the showerhead, handing her the sprayer. "Wash yourself," he ordered brusquely. Elara stood frozen, glancing sideways at Lyon as she tried to comprehend the situation. Lyon remained seated against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he exhaled smoke. His jawline was sharp, and his skin was pale, accentuating the veins in his neck. He looked effortlessly aloof, totally at ease, while an almost sinister vibe hung in the air around him. To Elara, his appearance was deceptively innocent—he could have passed for a neighborhood big brother. Yet everyone here treated him with a level of deference reserved for authority figures. She quickly deduced he was a top dog in this operation, likely one of the men responsible for their dire circumstances. A man like him wouldn’t let her leave. With hope and dismay intertwined in her chest, she asked in a tremulous voice, "What do you want from me?" Lyon locked eyes with her, his voice deep and gravelly after his smoke. "Cooperate with me, and you'll be free to go." Her heart raced as disbelief coursed through her. Had she heard him correctly? The tears continued to spill as she stared up at him, her wide, glimmering eyes filled with fear and hope—a doe caught in the headlights. "Really?" she gasped, barely able to contain her trembling. Lyon took the sprayer from her, soaked himself unexpectedly under the water, steam mingling with the smoke still lingering in the air. "I don't deceive people," he replied, his voice still husky but now softer, coaxing.
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