Jung-Il drags Krystal by her chains to the living area. She looks around amazed because she never got to see it. She always was in either the kitchen cooking, or in her prison cell. There’s a silver platter next to her and when she looks at her reflection she sees a pale face with grubby slave clothes. Slave clothes were originally white but sleeping on the floor and working in the kitchen made it more grey than white.

“Hurry up.” Jung-Il yanks her forward. She goes through a doorway and sees many people wearing masquerade masks like Jung-Il. They’re all staring at her like she’s a piece of meat. There’s also money clutched in their fists. Krystal can't count how much there is, but she wouldn’t be able to ever make half as much if she worked all her life. She knows what it’s all for though: few of Jung Il’s silver platters, a painting, and her. Of course, she’s not even worth as much as the painting. Slaves never are. She’s probably the bonus to the highest bidder. Jung-Il starts the auction and they start shouting all at once. She looks down at her feet. This is what her life has come to, being bid on only to be the next person’s slave. She’s had four owners before this one. The first, she had only worked in the kitchens before it was time to be sold off.  The second one was the worst. He had used her in ways that would be better left unspoken but then he got fed up with her. The third would beat her if she were ever late for one of her objectives. The fourth only beat her because he needed to let out his anger on someone. This one she had been the slave of for two years just working in the kitchens once again. Apparently female slaves were popular when selling other possessions; at least that was what the cooks had told her.

“Can we examine the slave?” One asks.

“Of course.” Jung-Il says. He pushes her down. They touch her hair and face and get far too close for comfort but of course, she can't say anything in protest.

“I will bid fifty gold pieces for the girl.” A voice says from the entrance. Everyone whirls around and steps away from her giving her some breathing room. She looks at the new arrival. He is very tall with black hair, he has a white mask that covers the top left quarter of his face, and he carries a black cane in his left hand. There’s something very familiar about him but she can't put her finger on it.

“Mr Kim.” Jung-Il bows, “It is an honour but what about my other possessions. Do you not want them as well?” He asks.

“No, only the girl.” Mr Kim says coldly. She can hardly believe that someone would pay fifty gold pieces for a slave girl.

“She’s yours.” She’s pushed towards him. He walks over to her old master and gives him a leather pouch.

“Let’s go.” He walks slightly in front of her out. He opens the horse carriage door for her and she stares at it waiting for the catch. The random blow or weird smile that proves him to wear a façade, but there isn’t anything. He only stands there patiently. She gets into the carriage everything completely new to her. She’s never been in one unless you count the slave carriage she was in as a nine year old. She usually was next to the driver of the carriage. This carriage is of extremely high quality and there are fabrics she’s never seen in her life. Mr Kim gets in opposite her, “Would you like a new set of clothes when we get to my home?” He asks. Strangely he says the word ‘home’ with distaste. Krystal still says nothing. Her second master had acted like this when he bought her but he had this odd look in his eyes. Mr Kim had a surprising gentleness to his eyes but that didn’t mean she thought him trustworthy. They sit in silence until the carriage stops. The door opens and he gets out first. After a moment she gets out as well and takes in her new residence. It’s slightly smaller than her old masters house but just as elegant. Once again he opens the door for her and the inside of the house is very grand. The floors are wooden with a beautiful carpet. There’s a wooden staircase to her right to another floor that has a stone banister. The walls have many paintings of landscapes but there are no paintings of people. Odd, all of the houses where she had caught glimpses of the main area had paintings of people. It's completely foreign to her that she would first be in the main area and not in the slaves’ area or kitchens. He walks to the stairs and turns to her waiting again. This is a weird place for a slave to stay, she thinks following him. He leads her down the hall and opens the door, curiosity overcomes her and she looks in. There is a large bed with a red armchair next to it. “This is where you’ll be staying.” He says. She steps back shaking her head in disbelief, “I'm not lying to you, but you have to stay here by law for four months until I’m allowed to set you free. At the end of those four months I will give you enough money for a place to stay and to get food to keep yourself alive until you find an actual job.” He explains. She doesn’t believe him. She can't believe him. This has to be a trick. “You can speak you know, in this house you are not a slave.” He says.

“What must I do in return?” She whispers.

“Nothing, you can stay here in your room, sit in the sitting room, whatever you like. But the law states that the slave may not leave the house unless with the master. The slave and master must also always be under surveillance from the authorities. Food will be brought up to your room three times a day if you choose not to dine on the ground floor. And my room is on the other side of the house.” He points before leaving. She watches him go not sure what to think at the moment. She walks into the room still looking out for a sign that it’s a trick but finds none. She peeks into the cupboard to see lots of clothes. Taking into account that it doesn’t have a lot of fancy dresses but ones similar to her slave clothes but made of much more valuable material. She looks around the room and finds the washroom. The walls and floors are made of marble and in the middle sits a bathtub. There are towels to the side of it with an array of soaps. She smells one and becomes aware of how she herself smells compared to it. She prepares the hot water for the tub while brushing her hair with a wooden brush. She’s finding it extremely hard to take all this as a reality. It feels like a dream with an evil twist approaching. But this is not a dream, she thinks as she steps into the tub, it’s a reality, but whether it is beautiful or horrible is yet to come.