A leaden sky hung low over the slave camp, wrapping it in a bleak morning gloom. Low clouds, unusual for this time of year, seemed to press down on the city with their full weight. The weather felt like a reflection of Grey's inner turmoil, a tense ожидание of an inevitable storm.
The air was thick and damp, foretelling a downpour.
Grey felt anxiety tighten in his chest. The clouds might still part, but his intuition told him otherwise. Again and again, he glanced toward the horizon, waiting for the first drops to fall.
He silently scrubbed a rough wooden board, helping Aunt Grunya in the kitchen. She had just returned from the back room where Gracchus had dragged her.
The woman kept sighing as she stirred the hated watery stew in the pot.
Without Sheryl and Lily, the entire kitchen felt orphaned.
"Some helpers they are," she muttered, casting a glance at the skinny boy who kept mumbling under his breath without pause. "The local cripple's completely lost it since the girls left. Just don't screw anything up."
Grey said nothing. His hands moved on their own, sorting and cleaning the meager vegetables. His thoughts were far from here.
"That was a good idea," the younger Grey admitted. "Giving the letter to Lily. Clever. You planned to get out that way from the very start, didn't you?"
"Of course. That's what I thought the moment I met the two girls. I didn't know you had coins, but I was sure their mothers wouldn't leave their daughters unattended. Sooner or later, that could be used," the transmigrant from Earth admitted.
"Are people in your world all this cynical?"
"Let's skip the moral lectures. I wouldn't have asked for anything excessive. At least in our world they don't force children to work twelve-hour shifts..." the Earthling protested righteously, then added more quietly, "For the most part..."
A minute of silence followed.
"I was thinking, why didn't you ask Lily's or Sheryl's mother, like I suggested? With your connections, they'd hardly refuse. Why take the risk?" Senior asked, genuinely confused.
Junior frowned, continuing to fiddle with the dirty bowl.
"There are many reasons. First, their reaction. I need to test the lady. Who knows what kind of person she is? How will she respond to a child asking for help? Maybe Lily and Sheryl are in danger, and then I'll have to save them instead.
Second, connections. If we work for her, it'll be much easier to secure a foothold in the city, which means finding Cassia, Mother, and Sister.
And finally, camouflage. A silver coin isn't a huge sum, but it would look strange if a stranger spent it on 'someone else.' I don't want to cause them trouble. People here can be very cruel. Once, I nearly died over a single silver coin, and I don't intend to repeat that experience."
The younger Grey laid out his reasoning, recalling how he and Grace had searched for a gift for Kaguya. Over the years, the bracelet she had given him had become his greatest source of support. Each bead reminded him of his loved ones, never letting him give up.
"But what if Lily doesn't make it in time?" the older one whispered. "What if the lady won't even listen to her?"
The reply came in the same whisper, tinged with a faint detachment and melancholy. "No risk, no gain. We can only do everything in our power and hope for luck. Didn't I prepare a plan in case things fail?"
Grey set the clean bowl back in place and, saying goodbye to Aunt Grunya, headed for the exit. He still wanted to stretch his legs before the rain covered the entire camp.
"You know that was just a whim, something that can't even be called a plan. Can we really take such a risk? No matter how much preparation you've done, you're still a cripple. The chances of surviving in the hands of cultists are extremely low," Senior insisted stubbornly.
"Well, isn't that exactly why we cling to every opportunity?" Junior Grey shot back. "Don't forget, we can read, write, and count. I know that's rare around here. Most people can't even add three numbers. The odds are good enough."
Although he tried to sound confident, a faint tremor in his soul betrayed his inner turmoil. Perhaps he even regretted that impulsive decision. But there was no turning back.
"I wonder…" he whispered. "If they buy us… what then?"
His companion fell silent for a minute, as if unable to find an answer. They both had lofty goals and understood one thing. The real trials had not even begun yet.
"To hell with it… whatever happens, happens. Once we're free, we'll try taking turns controlling the body. I don't want to risk it right now. My pitiful skills definitely aren't enough to escape."
"What a brilliant idea," the younger Grey replied with sarcasm. "I can hardly wait for someone else to take over my body."
Very soon, the rain began. It was cold and drizzling. The kind that could chill even the healthiest person to the bone. And it was in this weather that the next exhibition was supposed to take place. That alone did not inspire even a trace of optimism.
Accompanied by an overseer, Grey walked along a narrow, damp corridor, wrapped in a light, slightly torn shirt. As usual, he took his place on the first floor, next to a group of orcs. Massive bodies bound in chains sat in silence, their heads hanging low, far from the forests.
A cold iron collar hung around the boy's neck, while another wave of humiliation churned in his chest.
"Look," his unwanted companion suddenly exclaimed.
Grey raised his head. The price tag hung right above him. It read:
"Human boy, cripple. Three silver coins."
Three!
In that moment, all the blood drained from his face, and hope nearly left his body. What an ungrateful bitch hope was!
"What does that mean?" he whispered.
"That bastard Harmon… didn't think he knew about supply and demand," the representative of a highly developed civilization hissed through his teeth.
"Hey, hey, keep it down! They could kill us on the spot for words like that!" the younger Grey hurried to cut him off, glancing around in panic.
"Sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me. Harmon isn't stupid. He knows children will be bought for the ritual. So he raised the price. Greedy bastard," the Earthling explained tensely.
Grey closed his eyes, acknowledging his defeat.
In that dirty, stale hall, he felt worse than livestock at a market.
No, not even that. That was exactly what he was. About to be sold for slaughter.
As if the pouring rain outside hadn't already lowered the slim chances of anyone coming for him, now the price had been tripled on top of it. He couldn't pass two more coins to his buyer, could he? Or… maybe he could?
The boy took a deep breath, trying to drive away the rising panic.
Throughout the entire exhibition, Grey sat motionless and silent, occasionally casting short glances at the rain-soaked entrance. His thoughts were sluggish and helpless. He was so tired of his hopes being crushed over and over again.
It felt like he was running out of emotions. His gaze turned dull and lifeless, just like the orcs sitting beside him.
And then…
From the dark passage, frowning and adjusting her dress that clung treacherously to her damp body, a familiar figure appeared. Red hair, wet and tangled, slipped out from beneath her hood. The fabric of the dress pressed against the curves of her figure, drawing whispers and sidelong glances from the hall.
But the woman seemed to care little about it.
"Where are you, you little pest…" she muttered under her breath, angrily scanning the area. "First madam makes me wander in the pouring rain, and now I have to find you here, among these…" she faltered, looking at the prisoners' faces, unable to find the right word.
Grey's heart began to pound. He rose to his feet, feeling the air around him grow lighter. The hope he had been so afraid to feel flickered back to life.
The red-haired Monica immediately noticed the boy who had jumped up.
She walked over, gave him a sharp once-over, and said quietly, almost without emotion,
"Well, what are you staring at me for, like a drenched kitten?.. Come on, boy, today really is your lucky—" she suddenly cut herself off, staring at the price tag.
"Human boy, cripple. 3 silver coins."
"Damn you, Harmon…" she snapped, stamping her delicate foot.
"I really like her," Senior Grey muttered under his breath.
For a moment, Monica fell into thought, shifting her gaze from the sign to Grey.
At that moment, the boy felt like crying.
"Please… hope, you can't be that much of a bitch, can you?" he whispered darkly, as if in prayer. His alter ego didn't even try to argue.
They were afraid to breathe. Every time the woman looked away from him, his heart clenched as if struck.
Monica's brows drew together for a moment, a flicker of hesitation passing over her face. She clearly hadn't expected such a price. Grey barely held himself back from pulling two more coins out of his bottomless pocket and begging her to stop playing with his feelings.
She let out a heavy sigh, as if coming to terms with something.
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Monica reached for her purse. The coins rang sharply against each other in her palm. Everything about her showed how much she didn't want to part with the extra silver, but remembering something, she decisively cast aside her hesitation.
"If my lady said so, then it has to be done," she muttered, adding the rest from her own savings.
Without further delay or doubt, Monica called over the seller and pointed at Grey. He stared at her, unable to believe what was happening. As she stepped closer, the woman suddenly smiled. It was tired, strained, but almost motherly warm.
"Well, why are you just standing there? Let's go, you little wet mouse, or whatever they called you," she said, gently ruffling his hair through the bars.
Grey blinked, unsure how to react to such unexpected care. He had been ready for curses, maybe insults. Not only had she come all the way here in the rain, she had even paid extra out of her own pocket.
Her soft manner threw him off more than Quintillian's beatings ever had.
"Thank you," was all he managed to squeeze out, slightly embarrassed by his own awkwardness.
"What are you thanking me for, little slave? Did I give you a choice?" A faint smile touched her lips as the cage opened. "Come on, little mouse. No matter how much I grumble, your company is far more pleasant than those stinking brutes."
She carefully, almost tenderly, took his rough fingers in her hand, and for the first time in a long while, Grey felt safe. The feeling was so pleasant, so familiar, that his eyes began to sting.
A moment passed, and now they were already walking hand in hand through the narrow streets of a city that was still unfamiliar to him, even after half a year of living there.
The silver rain lashed against his face, thin needles piercing his skin, ignoring the light, worn shirt that had long since soaked through. His teeth chattered from the cold. Bare feet slapped against dirty puddles.
But none of it mattered to Grey. His small hand was warm in Monica's firm grip. He kept stealing glances at her, afraid to believe this was really happening.
But the woman walked calmly, not letting go of him, sometimes pulling him closer to her body to share a bit of warmth.
"We're almost there, kid. Hang on. It'll be warm and comfortable soon," she said gently, noticing his condition.
And suddenly, Grey believed her. Even if only a little. Even if only for a moment. But in that moment, he allowed himself to believe.
==============
Author's note:
I'm truly glad to end Grey's slavery arc on a positive note. It was a difficult journey. I really wanted to convey all the hardships he went through. The main goal of this part was to create a dark atmosphere, while still making his time in the slave camp interesting and very eventful. And of course, to introduce the MC's second personality, because the book is called "The Mad Immortal" for a reason. I hope I managed to pull it off.
Well, we'll move forward from here. For those who were waiting for action—it will start soon. Yes, very soon…
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