TCWGRF 36

Samuel had been dragged from a village quite far from the city. Though it was called a village, it was actually no different from a hamlet where a few private houses were clustered together.

‘Aaaargh!’

One day, men in black uniforms burst in like a thunderbolt, brandishing bayonets and stabbing to death anyone they saw.

Their slaughter did not stop until they found a suitable orphan who could capture the citizens’ sympathy and for whom there seemed to be a special demand.

Unfortunately for those living on the outside, looting was like a routine disaster. Some days, people called the rebels, and other days, neighbors from nearby would form groups and invade, demanding food.

In that process, losing parents or children was terribly common, and it was quite frequent for the survivors to band together to somehow eke out a living. Samuel, too, lived in the house of an old man named ‘Paul’ who had picked him up, instead of with his parents who had died when he was young.

‘Run! Samuel!’

Looking back now, he must have been an uncommonly altruistic old man in this world. To take in and raise a worthless child, and far from thinking of selling him off like others, to try to save him even in a crisis.

Samuel could not know what happened to the old man who had let him escape through the back door of the shabby house. Because to survive, he had just run barefoot, without looking back.

However, the boy’s steps were not fast enough to escape the notice of the trained officers. Before long, he was caught by the scruff of the neck by an officer who had chased him down, dragged away, and loaded onto a truck like livestock about to be slaughtered.

‘Stay still if you don’t wanna die.’

Everywhere the terrified boy’s eyes landed was awash with blood. In the hamlet, where the sounds of life had been just a short while ago, no cry or scream could be heard that could overcome the sound of breath suppressed to the extreme and the throbbing in his temples.

Crunch, crunch. The brutal and orderly footsteps of military boots on the rough sand declared that all life that had been there had been trampled, crushed, and ended beneath them.

Without knowing why, Samuel was dragged for a long time to some dark and damp place, where he met four other children who looked younger than him.

The neatly dressed adults lined the children up and discussed what devices were needed for a more stimulating presentation.

How about cutting off a limb? That seems to have been used before, so this time we need a more plausible scar. How about searing with fire? Wouldn’t being blind be alright too? Let’s not touch the face as much as possible, thinking of selling them…

The ideas they came up with in excited voices were all horrifying. Cutting, searing, stabbing, reselling. Samuel was to become something even lowlier than livestock, tailored to fit a script, and then displayed before the public.

‘Let’s go with burns this time. Now, who among you would be good?’

He did not want to make a noble sacrifice or be a hero. He still did not quite know why he made that choice at that moment. So it must have been a rather impulsive act. To raise his hand before the nameless man who was holding a red-hot iron rod and trying to choose a suitable offering, and to step forward saying he would do it.

‘It’s a shame, I think he could be sold for quite a high price later.’

‘There are customers who like to ruin pretty things. Well, we’re not going to touch his face.’

The decision was swift, and in an instant, gruesome burns that were hard to look at with open eyes appeared on both of his shoulder blades. This was packaged as a mark of torture committed by the atrocious rebels.

The children there were each put in small cages and displayed in the middle of the city.

‘Look. The miserable reality of the outside! If the city had not rescued them, these children would have died at the hands of the rebels!’

Was it out of defiance? Samuel clenched his teeth and did not let out a single groan despite the pain that felt like it would burn his entire body, but that sight, ironically, stimulated the citizens’ sympathy.

‘My goodness.’

‘How could they do such a thing to children!’

The people, who firmly believed that the bruises on the children, the scratches all over their bodies, and even the burns were caused by the rebels, shuddered at the sight while finding solace in the fact that they were citizens of the city.

A furrowed brow and lips curled into a smile of relief. Their expressions were all the same, as if stamped from a mold.

Because as long as the great party and the city walls protected them, they would not have to live on the same land as those atrocious barbarians. Because they could live here forever, with their prosperity and well-being guaranteed.

Such complacency and narrow-mindedness were the driving force that maintained the city’s peace. The foolish people believed what the politicians showed them, feared the outside, and deferred questioning and judgment.

The crowded footsteps in front of the cages became sparse after about two days, and by the fourth day, they were naturally treated like fixtures installed there.

Those who shed tears or sent their sympathies disappeared, and only gazes filled with concern for the filthy beings that marred the city’s aesthetic reached them. And so, in less than a week, the animals in the cages, no longer able to arouse any more interest, were cleared away from there.

What happens to the children used as one-time exhibits and consumables?

The city advertised that it was showing mercy by having them adopted as the children of someone who needed them, thereby granting them citizenship. But in reality, they were dragged to an underground auction house, no different from a slave market, and disposed of for a pittance to perverts with special tastes.

The auction house regularly abducted and sold people from the outside or the outskirts who seemed to be in demand.

Those with exceptional looks, or those with unique hair or eye colors, were sequentially priced, and sold off to the customer who bid the highest.

‘I think there will be many who will like today’s product.’

The customers there all wore masks to hide each other’s identities. There were also many cases where a proxy came instead of the person themselves to pick out a suitable item that would suit their master’s tastes.

‘Blond hair, blue eyes. A boy, but there hasn’t been a top-grade item like this recently.’

The hideous scars on his back slightly damaged the product’s value, but there were many who showed interest in Samuel, who had straight limbs and a pretty face that could not help but stand out even in a shabby cage.

‘Now, now, calm down. Take a closer look!’

The auction house owner, excited by the heated atmosphere, opened the cage on the stage and dragged the product out, trying to raise the price further.

The moment he brought his hand close, saying it was not common, to look at the face closely. Samuel grabbed that hand to keep it from touching his body and bit off the index finger with his teeth.

‘Aaaaaargh!’

Blood splattered everywhere from the severed finger, and the desperate screams and cries to catch that bastard were loud, but the audience, stained from surprise to horror, was only silent.

Spit. He spat out the piece of flesh that had fallen from the body and lost its function, and only Samuel, his face smeared with blood, was grinning at the ridiculous sight.

‘Ahahaha!’

Clap, clap. Someone who had hidden his presence in the unseen darkness burst into laughter with loud applause. He was the only person who laughed there, besides Samuel.

‘I’ll buy him. Including the price of the finger, of course.’

And so, without even knowing who the person who bought him was, Samuel was entrusted to the house of a man named ‘Lot’ as an adopted son.

Life there was even harsher than on the outside or when he had first been dragged to the city.

Lot, who had once been in charge of making the rebels talk at the Public Security Bureau, never cut him any slack. He would often torture him himself, saying one had to experience it to know, or beat him to the brink of death.

The anonymous being who had saved Samuel frequently conveyed the words, ‘The city needs a well-trained dog,’ through Lot’s mouth. It was proof that his future was already designed, and his use was decided.

In that process, individual will or rebellion was of no use whatsoever. It would only get him beaten and starved.

On the days he steadily met expectations, the beatings were omitted, and he could get decent clothes and a clean meal. There was no salvation anywhere. There was only one choice, to conform.

He had survived so tenaciously and proven his competence, but in the end, Samuel was fated to be thrown back into the mire with nothing in his hands without the permission of the great and mighty.

Even while knowing he was just a consumable made for someone in the city, he might have held something like an expectation that he could create at least one desired ending with his own hands.

However, even after rising to the position of Commissioner-General, the situation had hardly changed.

Is there anything I can do as I please, me?

“Ah, ha.”

Ah, perhaps there is one thing.

Even while the long recollection continued, Samuel’s lower body was moving violently without stopping.

His partner’s legs, with his back to the wall, dangled and swayed in the air, and the shackle clanked along with them. The harder he slammed into him, the tighter the prisoner’s arms wrapped around Samuel’s back.

The sensation of someone relying on him, needing him desperately, was more thrilling than expected, like it could become an addiction. It was hotter than strong liquor going down his throat to his stomach, and more refreshing than cigarette smoke swirling through his lungs.

The other’s sweat and hot body temperature soaking his shirt from a while ago were not as unpleasant as he thought, nor did they feel sticky and make him want to wash them off. He had only thought it was rather impressive that the face, which had at first said no and asked to be let go, now seemed to be quite enjoying it.

As he watched his partner, who was crying uncontrollably and letting out groans, his chaotic mind calmed down. And a sudden impulse arose, what if he were to vomit out all the old feelings that were suffocating him?

“Isaac.”

When he called the name of his partner, who was hugging him and panting, he squeezed out his remaining strength and lifted his head.

His half-lidded eyes represented his fading consciousness, but it did not really matter. Because Samuel needed release in any way right now.

“…?”

Their eyes met, and as Samuel lifted his chin, their lips pressed together.

A hot tongue tried to part his rough lips and explore every corner inside, but Isaac, who had no talent in this area, could only gape his mouth like a goldfish.

Pfft. Samuel could not stop a laugh from leaking through his teeth. Then, with the words, ‘Try to follow me,’ he once again tilted his head slightly and kissed Isaac.