The exchange of gold was a formality. Eiden didn't bother with the theatrics of celebration or ownership.
He simply stood, adjusted his gloves, and gave a single nod.
The servants moved swiftly, unlocking Anore's chains. The cold metal slid off his wrists, but Anore didn't rub the red marks. He was too busy watching Eiden.
Men like Eiden usually had two faces, the public mask and the private monster.
Anore had met too many of the latter.
When Eiden gestured for him to follow, Anore's body reacted before his mind did. Barefooted, his steps light against the floor, he expected the usual routine.
A private room. A command. Rough hands.
But none came.
Instead, Eiden's voice cut through the auction hall's murmurs.
"The least they could've done is give you shoes." His tone wasn't mocking. It wasn't kind either. It was… matter-of-fact. "That must be uncomfortable."
Anore blinked. That was new. This was the first time he'd heard someone complain about him not wearing shoes.
He followed in silence, glancing at his raw feet only when they reached the carriage.
The door was held open for him. Eiden didn't shove him inside. Didn't even look at him when Anore hesitated, as if stepping into that carriage would be walking into a different kind of trap.
It wasn't until they sat opposite each other, the carriage rocking into motion, that Eiden spoke again.
"Eiden Castemire.." he introduced himself properly, eyes half-lidded with polite detachment.
Anore said nothing. He knew how this went.
Eiden didn't push. Instead, his gloved hand dipped into his coat, retrieving a small leather-bound book. He flipped it open, revealing neat lines of ink. The feathered quill in his hand moved swiftly as he began to write.
"I'll get you better clothes.." Eiden said, voice flat as his pen scratched. "These don't seem suited for this weather. And a physician. You may have some underlying illnesses."
Anore stared at him.
Then at the book.
Then back at him.
"What are you doing?" his voice was hoarse, brittle from disuse.
Eiden didn't look up. "Observations."
A beat passed. Anore shifted in his seat, sighing faintly. "Do you treat all your slaves like this?"
This time, Eiden paused.
He looked up, meeting Anore's gaze with a calm that wasn't arrogant. Just... disturbingly sincere.
"Well, I certainly don't see you as a commodity." He tilted his head as if the question was odd. "Normally you wouldn't find me in an auction house. I haven't been to one in years. A mere curiosity led you to me. Or perhaps me to you. Regardless, I'd say I don't regret the decision."
Then he looked back down and continued writing, as if that settled the matter.
Anore felt his brain short-circuit. He leaned back against the carriage seat, eyes narrowing.
What was this?
What kind of man buys a slave and then offers them shoes?
What kind of man keeps distance and offers physicians instead of bruises?
He didn't like it. Not because it was bad but because it didn't make sense.
Eiden's quill moved lazily, scribbling down inky words that Anore couldn't see. Every now and then, Eiden's eyes would flick toward him, scanning or calculating.
He wasn't undressing Anore with his gaze.
He was dissecting him rather.
And for the first time, Anore felt… exposed in a way that no physical touch had ever made him feel.
"Are you studying me, Sir?" Anore asked, a bitter curl to his lips.
Eiden smiled, but it wasn't mocking. "Perhaps."
Anore's jaw tightened. "And if I don't want to be studied?"
"Then we're at an impasse.." Eiden said simply. "But I've found most fascinating things are never willing subjects."
Anore didn't know whether to be offended or intrigued.
The carriage ride continued in tense silence, but in the quiet, Anore realized something.
Eiden hadn't once tried to own him.
He hadn't called him by any degrading title. He hadn't even given him an order beyond "follow me."
That was more dangerous than any whip.
Because Anore didn't know how to fight kindness that wasn't trying to be kind.
The carriage rolled to a gentle stop.
Anore had been expecting cold stone walls, iron gates, perhaps guards with sharp gazes ready to shove him into a corner and chain him to the floor.
That was what awaited slaves behind pretty estates, always.
But when the door opened and Eiden stepped out, gesturing for him to follow,
Anore hesitated not from fear, but confusion.
The estate was…
Beautiful.
Not the grandeur of gleaming gold and marble that nobles loved to flaunt, but soft and warm.
The path was lined with old trees, their branches forming a gentle archway of green.
Flowers spilled over the edges of stone planters, untamed but not wild. The air smelled of earth after rain.
And there were children.
Children playing, laughing, their small feet pattering across the stone courtyard as they chased each other. A boy with a missing tooth waved a stick like a sword. A little girl with ribbons in her hair spun in circles, trying to catch a butterfly.
Anore stood still.
He had seen many estates. None had looked like this.
His lips parted, but no words came.
Eiden noticed. His lips quirked into a quiet smile as he stood beside Anore, hands tucked casually behind his back.
"It's not a sanctuary, if that's what you're thinking..." Eiden said, voice tinged with amusement. "This is my home. And, from today, it will be your home as well."
Anore's eyes snapped to him.
"I'll make sure you walk with shoes on your feet, food in your belly, and warm clothes on your body.." Eiden continued, as if it was the simplest promise in the world.
Anore didn't respond. He couldn't. His mind was a chaotic blur, trying to grasp at threads that kept slipping through his fingers. His muscles were tense, expecting a twist, a blow, a catch.
But then—children.
A group of them noticed Eiden and dashed over, their excited voices overlapping.
"Lord Eiden!"
"You're back!"
"Who's he?"
They circled Anore, peering up at him with wide, curious eyes. One brave girl tugged lightly on his tattered sleeve.
"What's your name, mister?"
Anore's throat worked.
It had been a long time since anyone had asked for his name without malice.
"…Anore."
He didn't know why he said it so softly, yet it felt as though the entire world heard it. The name rolled off his tongue like a forgotten lullaby.
Eiden's steps paused. His eyes widened, just for a fleeting moment, before narrowing thoughtfully.
"Anore.." Eiden repeated, the name tasting foreign yet familiar in his mouth. His gaze drifted toward the sky, where the wind rustled the leaves softly. "A name that means wind. The wind is free and yet here you stand....shackled."