Whack!!!
The slap came fast.
Aiko's head snapped sideways, her cheek burning. Kuroda gripped her hair, yanking her face to the bars.
"Gods don't waste miracles on whores."
"But she was a princess once," Taro mocked, picking rice from the box. "Right? Heard the boss bragging. Minamoto sama's daughter."
Kuroda spat.
"Princess? More like pigsty trash now. Why else you think the payout's so high? Clients pay extra to break royalty."
Aiko's fists clenched.
She'd buried her thoughts of father deep, but they clawed up now, sharp and bloody.
Taro grabbed her arm through the bars. "Enough games. Boss wants you presentable. Got a merchant paying triple for your 'maidenhood.'" His leer made her skin crawl. "Let's see if the miracle worker fixed all your parts."
Aiko lunged, teeth sinking into Taro's hand. He screamed, blood spurting. Her knee smashed his nose with a wet crunch. Kuroda roared, unlocking the cage.
"You'll die for that!" Taro stumbled back.
Michael's phone buzzed violently.
Red text blared:
[CRITICAL CHOICE!]
[Aiko will die without intervention!]
[Options:]
[Paralyze Guards *2 (Cost: $29.99)]
[Random Magic Scroll (Cost: $19.99)]
[Create Distraction (Cost: $9.99)]
[Do Nothing]
"Are you kidding me?!" Michael hissed.
Hospitalization, tuition, antibiotics—all needed cash.
He's not gonna spend a dime more on this silly ass game.
Aiko screamed when the blade nicked her arm. The guards' laughter rang through his phone speaker—guttural, cruel.
Michael knew games. He'd played mobile trash during bus rides to his own baseball games. But none of them made his chest ache like this.
On screen, Taro wiped blood from his broken nose.
"Cut her clothes off," he growled. "Let's teach the princess some proper manners."
Kuroda grabbed Aiko's torn collar. She twisted, slamming her elbow into his throat. He staggered back, choking.
[Aiko's Status:]
[Willpower: Shattering]
"Hold her down!" Kuroda croaked.
Taro tackled Aiko to the cage floor. Straw flew as she thrashed, knees and elbows striking anything she could reach.
Kuroda recovered, slamming his boot into her ribs. Aiko gasped, curling inward.
"No more miracles, huh?" Kuroda knelt on her legs, pinning them. "Where's your Kami-sama now?"
Aiko spat blood in his face.
Taro's meaty hands pinned her wrists to the cage floor as Kuroda ripped her tattered sleeve. "Maybe your Kami-sama prepared you for us so he can watch," he sneered.
Aiko thrashed, but Kuroda's knee dug into her stomach.
No. Not again. Her mind flashed to the auction block—the leering faces, the hot iron branding her skin.
She'd rather die.
Michael's phone buzzed again.
[WARNING! Companion's Willpower at critical levels!]
Fuck this game… Michael sighs… just fuck this game.
Michael's thumb trembled over the $19.99 magic scrolls option.
The screen flashed red as his remaining balance dropped to [Remaining funds: $1,188.03].
A pop-up blared:
[RANDOM SCROLL SELECTED: "PAIN TRANSFER" (Single Use)]
[Effect: Temporarily transfers Companion's pain suffered within 24 hours to enemies. Warning: May cause backlash.]
"The hell does that mean?!" Michael muttered.
Then it happened.
A crimson symbol blazed across her vision—a kanji for pain "痛"—scorching the air with the stench of burnt copper.
"Wh-what's that?!" Taro recoiled as Aiko's eyes glowed blood-red.
Every scar, every broken bone, every humiliation she'd endured yesterday—transferred.
Kuroda screamed first. His kneecap shattered with a wet crack, mirroring the injury Aiko had sustained. Taro clutched his suddenly dislocated shoulder, howling as purple bruises bloomed across his face—her bruises.
Aiko stood, the chains on her ankles snapping like twine.
Her body felt light. Unbroken.
"Demon!" Taro scrambled backward, tripping over his own sword.
Aiko stared at the sword Taro had dropped. The steel gleamed in the torchlight, its edge jagged from years of misuse.
She lunged for it, her fingers closing around the hilt. But the moment she lifted it, her body betrayed her.
The sword felt wrong—too heavy, too clumsy.
Her stance wobbled. Memories flooded her: years of training, her father's stern voice correcting her posture, the smooth arc of her blade slicing through bamboo targets.
But now? Her arms trembled. Her feet stumbled. It was like trying to dance with stones tied to her ankles.
What's wrong with me?
Move like water, her father's voice echoed in her memory. A blade is an extension of your soul.
But when she swung the sword at Kuroda, her arms trembled. The strike was slow. Clumsy. The weight of the weapon felt alien now, as if her muscles had forgotten the dance of combat.
Kuroda, clutching his shattered knee, still managed to roll aside. The blade bit into the stone floor with a shower of sparks.
"Princess forgot how to play with her toys!" Kuroda wheezed, crawling backward. Blood soaked his torn pants, but his sneer remained sharp.
Aiko's breath hitched. She'd practiced the iaido draw every dawn since she could walk. Now her hands shook like a child's.
Taro, cradling his dislocated arm, kicked a rusted dagger toward Kuroda.
"Finish her!"
Kuroda snatched the dagger and lunged, his movement jerky but fueled by rage. Aiko raised the sword in a block, but her stance was too wide. Too unbalanced. The dagger screeched along the sword's edge, slashing her forearm.
Pathetic, she thought. The girl who'd once disarmed three assassins before breakfast now struggled against a wounded thug.
Kuroda lunged again. Aiko sidestepped, but her heel caught on uneven stones. She stumbled, the sword slipping from her sweaty grip. It clattered across the floor as Kuroda pinned her against the cage bars, his rancid breath hot on her face.
"Done playing warrior princess?" He pressed the dagger to her throat.
Aiko spat in his eye.
He headbutted her. Stars exploded across her vision.
When her knees buckled, Kuroda grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck.
"Might as well sample the goods before–"
A guttural roar shook the dungeon.
The iron door flew off its hinges, crashing into the opposite wall. Six armored men marched in, followed by a woman whose face was hidden behind a horned demon mask, but the authority in her stride froze even Kuroda mid-sentence.
"Boss!"
Kuroda released Aiko, bowing so low his forehead touched the floor. Taro whimpered in the corner, still cradling his dislocated arm.