Life is strange.
Sometimes you find yourself in a joyful moment, and other times in a sorrowful one. People say life is gray, but you can only say that when nothing extraordinary happens to you.
What happened to me… was the worst thing that could happen.
I was born without ever knowing my parents. The only person who remained by my side was my grandmother. We lived in poverty, but she did everything she could to raise me and educate me. She worked for many long years just to send me to medical school.
When I finally finished my studies… I believed it was my turn to take care of her.
But life never gave me that chance.
That day, a madman walked into the hospital holding a gun and started shooting randomly. I don't remember much after that… only the sound of gunshots and people screaming everywhere.
The only thing on my mind at that moment wasn't my fear of dying.
It was my grandmother.
How would she receive the news of my death?
Who would take care of her after I was gone?
But the strangest thing…
Death was not the end.
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in the body of a child.
A child living in a world completely different from my own.
His name was Ethan Hale.
He was fifteen years old.
From the memories that surfaced in my mind, I began to understand fragments of his life. His father had been the village doctor, and Ethan had often helped him since childhood.
But only a few days ago… a strange monster attacked the village.
Although a nobleman arrived with a group of knights and managed to kill the creature, many people still died in the attack.
Among them…
Ethan's father.
Now he had no one left.
Just like the other children sitting beside me.
The wagon carrying us was old and made of rough wood. It shook violently every time the wheels rolled over stones along the dirt road. The wooden wheels creaked loudly as two tired horses pulled it forward.
More than ten children sat around me. Some were much younger than I was. Most of them were crying softly, while others tried to hold back their tears.
Our clothes were simple and rough, the kind worn by poor villagers. Faded cotton shirts, loose trousers, and worn-out coats that were too large for their small bodies.
Dust drifted into the wagon with every movement.
At the front of the wagon sat two men guiding the horses.
Each carried a sword at his waist.
It didn't take long for me to understand the truth.
These men were not guards.
They were slave traders.
After many hours of travel, the wagon finally slowed down.
Before we entered the town, one of the traders stopped the wagon and turned toward us. His cold eyes scanned the children before he spoke.
"Listen carefully."
The crying slowly faded as the children looked at him with fear.
"You brats should remember something."
He pointed toward the road behind us.
"We are the ones who saved your lives."
Some of the children looked confused.
"If we hadn't taken you from those ruined villages, that monster would've eaten you sooner or later."
He spat on the ground.
"And even if it didn't… you would've starved to death. Or ended up begging in the streets like rats."
Several children began crying again.
The trader turned away dismissively.
"So remember that."
He climbed back to the front of the wagon.
"We saved you."
A few minutes later, we entered the slave market.
The place was wide and crowded. Wooden stalls, caravans, shouting merchants, animals tied to posts, and buyers inspecting goods.
But some of the goods…
Were people.
The wagon door opened roughly.
"Get down!"
The children climbed down one by one.
We were placed in a line while the trader stood behind us shouting.
"Strong children! Good for work! Some even know a trade!"
Buyers approached, looking at us the way people look at livestock.
Some grabbed arms.
Others checked teeth.
Then a noblewoman stopped in front of our line.
She wore a dark, elegant dress, and a light fur cloak rested on her shoulders. Behind her stood two armed guards.
She looked at us quietly before speaking.
"Can any of you read?"
Silence.
A small boy hesitantly raised his hand but quickly lowered it when the trader glared at him.
She asked another question.
"What were your fathers' professions?"
The children began answering.
"Farmer…"
"Shepherd…"
"Field worker…"
Then her gaze stopped on me.
"And you?"
I looked at her calmly.
"My father was the village doctor."
A faint spark of interest appeared in her eyes.
"Did you learn anything from him?"
I nodded.
"I helped him gather herbs and clean his tools. He also taught me how to stitch wounds and set simple fractures."
The woman studied me for a moment.
Then she turned to the trader.
"I'll take this one."
Coins changed hands.
Just like that…
My price was decided.
The trader grabbed my shoulder and pushed me forward toward the noblewoman's guards.
Behind me, the line of children remained where they stood.
Some of them were still crying.
Some stared at me silently.
And some were already being pulled away by other buyers.
I didn't know whether I had just escaped something terrible…
Or stepped into something far worse.
But as I followed the guards away from the market, one thought slowly formed in my mind.
In this world…
A human life had a price.
And today,
Mine had just been paid.