His expression darkened, eyes narrowing. A thought—quiet but insistent—began to gnaw at the edges of his mind.
How long… have I been rotting in this place?
He stared at the carrots again—six or seven of them, piled near the stone bowl. Each one looked worse than the last, shriveled and spotted, like they'd been left to rot for days.
But…
he'd only woken up a few hours ago.
Right?
Dragged here, beaten, whipped—and then he blacked out.
He clenched his fists, staring harder at the pile. "No one gives a single slave this much food," he muttered. Not in a place like this. Not unless…
unless it was meant to last.
His hand moved, almost on its own, brushing over his chin and cheeks.
Smooth. Clean.
Aarav froze.
He'd always preferred a clean shave—not that his facial hair grew fast—but still. He was sure, absolutely sure, he'd shaved that morning. Or… was it yesterday? His mind twisted, grasping for a timeline that wouldn't come together.
His chest tightened, breath shallow.
Something's wrong. Something's really wrong.
He glanced to his left, where Seriah was crouched low, greedily munching on one of the carrots. Between bites, she looked up at him, eyes shining with a strange mix of gratitude and guilt.
"Cute. She's cute."
He couldn't make out every detail—the dim light blurred the delicacy and sharpness of her features—but if he had to guess, she seemed close to his own age. Maybe a little younger… or older. Hard to tell here.
Aarav sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Am I really falling for every girl I meet? What the hell's wrong with me?"
He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound dry and a bit hollow—but it was something. In this place, in this suffocating room, even a bitter laugh felt like a victory.
"No way I'm the first one here to lose my head."
He leaned back, clutching the ragged blanket tighter, eyes tracing the iron bars, the shadows stretching far into the dark.
Hours dragged by, heavy and slow—until suddenly, a sound cut through the stillness.
Footsteps.
Aarav's ears perked up. Sharp echoes rippled across the vast chamber, bouncing off the stone walls. His eyes darted around, but the room was still cloaked in darkness, the only light the dim, unwavering glow of torches. He frowned. He hadn't seen anyone replace or tend to those flames, not once. Magic? Or some weird tech? He couldn't tell.
The footsteps grew louder.
And just like that, the cages around him came alive. He heard shuffling, whispered voices—movement everywhere. The still, dead room had turned electric, buzzing with sudden energy.
Aarav's chest tightened. What the hell is going on?
He looked to his side. Seriah's face was calm, unreadable—too calm, like this was nothing unusual. But in her eyes… there was something. A flicker.
Excitement?
Aarav swallowed hard, his fists tightening around the ragged blanket.
The echoes of footsteps were soon replaced by familiar sounds—munching, crunching, the raw noise of desperation. Aarav's eyes narrowed as the realization clicked.
Ah… so the slave keeper is here.
Moments later, a figure appeared—towering, broad-shouldered, stepping into view.
Aarav froze.
The man stopped right in front of his cage, and Aarav's eyes slowly trailed upward, heart thumping. The face he saw wasn't what he'd expected. Young, probably early twenties, with sharp blue eyes and messy red hair. Handsome, even. The man's gaze locked on Aarav, and then—strangely—he smiled, kneeling a little to meet Aarav's eyes.
That smile was... unsettling.
Not because it was cruel or twisted. No. It was friendly. Too friendly.
Aarav stiffened, instinctively inching back, keeping his distance. His mind raced even as he tried to keep his face still. Didn't my mother always say—never trust a stranger, no matter how nice they seem?
He glanced sideways at Seriah from the corner of his eye. Her expression was unreadable, calm as ever.
She's in the same damn shoes as me, he thought grimly. Except... she might know something I don't.
His muscles tensed, waiting to see what would happen next.
The man finally spoke, his voice low but clear. Aarav couldn't catch a single word—just sounds—but as he watched more closely, something clicked in his head.
Wait… his face…
The guy's chin was sharp but still soft around the edges, his features not quite settled. Noticed under the dim orange light, his frame was massive, easily 6'2", maybe 6'3". But that face… Aarav squinted, a habit of his when assessing people.
Hold on. Is this giant… younger than me?
It didn't add up. Aarav had always been oddly good at guessing people's ages—his friends joked he was like a human lie detector for that. And even now, through the mess of exhaustion and confusion, something about this man-boy's face screamed not quite there yet. He was in that weird in-between, too big for his age, but not fully an adult.
Great. Stuck in a realm of giants now. What else should I expect?
The boy's attention flicked to Seriah, and Aarav's eyes sharpened. Her face stayed cold, indifferent, but the boy's expression shifted just slightly.
Is he… blushing? Aarav's brows lifted, something uneasy twisting in his gut. He couldn't make sense of it, but instinct told him something was off.
The boy fumbled in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a piece of bread—he seemed almost shy about it, like he was hiding something. Aarav caught the flicker in Seriah's eyes—a shine of quiet hunger and maybe something more.
Then, without ceremony, the boy grabbed two carrots from the bucket, tossed one through Aarav's cage, and handed the bread and another carrot to Seriah.
Generous today, huh? Aarav thought dryly, catching the carrot awkwardly.
As the boy turned to leave, Aarav's eyes locked onto something else—something that made his pulse quicken. A bunch of keys, dangling at the boy's back, tucked through what looked like a makeshift belt cinched around his tunic.
His breath hitched.
Keys…
He sat frozen, eyes locked on that jangling little bundle until the boy's figure disappeared into the shadows, footsteps fading out of reach.
The girl tore the piece of bread in half and quietly offered one part to Aarav. He glanced at it, then shook his head. She didn't press, only gave a tiny smile and nibbled on her own piece, curling back into her blanket.
More hours passed. Silence. Time dragged like wet sand slipping through his fingers. Aarav sat still, but inside, his thoughts kept spiraling.
Something's not right…
He tried to count. If his rough sense of time was anywhere close, it had to be over 24 hours since he last slept. Yet—no crushing fatigue, no heavy eyelids. His body wasn't shaking, his mind wasn't foggy. Sure, there was a weird hollow inside him, but… he was functioning. Beyond that, his mind felt sharp, disturbingly sharp, like it refused to shut down no matter how much time crawled by.
He eyed Seriah, peaceful and curled up, her breathing soft and steady. He found himself mumbling under his breath.
What the hell is this? My ability?
He snorted at his own joke, but unease wrapped around him tighter. He knew how the human body worked—calories, hydration, rest. Basic survival. And yet… here he was. Unfed, unrested, and somehow fine. Almost like those things were stolen from him, ripped away like everything else the moment he landed in this cursed place.
His gaze dropped to the pile of carrots in the corner. His mouth twisted grimly.
Eight days… eight damn days since I woke up in this mess.
And still—his mind didn't blur. His body stayed stubbornly upright. He didn't feel like he was breaking down physically, no matter how long he waited. The hours trickled by, but his thoughts kept their sharpness, their annoying clarity. It was eerie.
Is this a blessing… or a curse?
Seriah finally stirred. She yawned, stretching her slim arms lazily, brushing her hair out of her face before splashing her cheeks with a bit of water from a rusty tin.
Aarav blinked, a dumb idea creeping into his head. He smirked to himself.
I'll surprise her… show off a bit of my rugged man-beard, see her reaction. He ran a hand over his jaw and chin, expecting to feel at least some prickly growth. Two or three days—that should be enough for a bit of scruff, right?
But his fingers slid over smooth skin. Nothing.
His smirk faltered. He rubbed harder, checked again.
Still clean.
Wait…
His eyes narrowed. He stared into the dim reflection on the metal bar of his cage, eyes widening as a chilling realization snaked its way in.
If I'm not sleeping… if my body isn't resting or needing food…
His chest tightened.
Does that mean… I'll never age?
The thought struck him like ice water, sending a shiver straight down his spine. He sat back, staring blankly at the ceiling, his breath shallow.
He wasn't sure. Not at all. But every strange thing he had experienced so far whispered the same terrifying truth back at him.
What else could I even do?
His eyes darted around, searching for something—anything—that might make sense of it all. He wanted to say something, a word, a trigger maybe... but the thought kept slipping through his fingers like mist. It was right there, caught in his throat, scratching at the back of his mind but refusing to take shape.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slow, steady. And then—like a flicker—it came back.
He whispered, almost afraid of how ridiculous it sounded.
"…Status."