The hum of machines followed me as I walked through the long, dark corridor.
Behind me, Elira slept — naked, bruised, breathless from the night before, curled up on the cold floor where I'd left her. She'd wake eventually, eyes glassy, lips still whispering my name. She always did.
I didn't look back.
At the far end of the corridor, a sealed door awaited. No handle. No lock. Just a slab of smooth black steel with a soft blue circle pulsing in the center.
It recognized me.
"Access: Dimensional Gate Alpha," I whispered.
The circle blinked once.
Reality folded.
The room melted outward — and I stepped through without hesitation.
The sky above me was a pale violet, swirling with soft clouds that moved in reverse. Floating platforms drifted in a sea of glowing light. The market realm was quiet today — or as quiet as a realm built for vice and ownership could be.
I stood on the central stone balcony, looking out across hundreds of glowing merchant circles. Each vendor had a platform, a title, and a guarded array of merchandise.
Weapons from collapsed empires. Time-locked beasts. Artifacts from dead gods.
But I didn't come for any of that.
I walked calmly toward the red-lit bridges. There, in the heart of the outer ring, were the slave merchants — specialized auctioneers from collapsed worlds who only dealt in flesh refined to perfection.
The women on display weren't bound. They weren't crying. They stood, knelt, or sat in graceful silence, each dressed in delicate clothing or nothing at all. They were trained, enhanced, or created for submission — not by force, but by design.
Some were goddesses, stripped of domain.
Some were elves, their bloodlines shaped over millennia.
Some weren't even human — glowing eyes, scales, wings, horns, tails.
None of it mattered to me.
I approached the central vendor: a tall, insect-eyed merchant with six arms and a voice like folded paper.
"Welcome back, honored one," he said with a deep bow. "We have several new acquisitions—"
"I'll take them all," I said.
The vendor froze.
"Sir?"
"Every female in your current inventory. No filters. No exclusions. Age, race, realm — irrelevant."
His voice faltered.
"Th-that's over four hundred across fifteen stations—"
"Send them to Realm Hall 9. Organize them by origin. No need to debrief."
He hesitated only a second longer before bowing deeply.
"At once, my lord."
I turned and walked back toward the fold gate.
I didn't look at any of them. Not the trembling new arrivals. Not the fierce ones. Not even the few who dared raise their eyes and watch me go.
There was nothing in them I hadn't already seen.
Nothing I wanted.
Nothing I loved.
The world shifted.
The sky turned blue again.
Carpet met my feet.
The cool scent of home returned.
I was back in my room — standing before the now-closed access panel beneath my desk. Everything was exactly as I had left it. The curtain fluttered in the breeze. My computer screen blinked.
The clock hadn't moved a second.
Time remained my most loyal servant.
I showered in silence.
Steam curled around my skin as I stared into the water, my reflection blurring in the glass.
No one knew.
No one could know.
And if they did…?
It wouldn't matter.
In the kitchen, I greeted my parents.
"Good morning," my mother said with a warm smile. "You're up early again."
"Just couldn't sleep," I said, sipping juice.
My father passed behind me with a towel around his neck.
"You still playing with computers all night?" he chuckled.
"Sometimes," I replied with a smile.
They laughed. It was comfortable. Soft. Normal.
They didn't know their son had just bought a library's worth of beautiful, engineered women from alien dimensions. And they never would.
At 7:12 a.m., I stepped outside.
The sun was low. The sky clear. Birds stirred on rooftops.
Across the hedge, Airi stood in front of her house, her schoolbag hugged close to her chest. She wore a pale cream cardigan over her uniform today — a touch of softness against the summer air.
She saw me and smiled immediately.
"You're early," she said.
"So are you."
She stepped out of her gate as I did the same. We began walking without saying anything else — her footsteps matching mine perfectly. Side by side. Quiet. Familiar.
She glanced at me a few times. Her fingers brushed against mine.
I caught it this time.
And held her hand.
Her eyes widened slightly — cheeks flushed red. She didn't say anything. Just squeezed once, like she didn't trust her voice.
We passed the bakery on the corner. The owner waved at us from inside, smiling like always.
To them, we were just the sweet neighborhood couple.
The innocent boy with sleepy eyes.
The quiet girl with the gentle smile.
No one knew what I'd done.
No one ever would.