The sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and foreboding—echoed through the corridor leading to Volg's room. Each impact against the polished tiles sent a shiver crawling up his spine, his breaths growing shallow as the dread in his chest twisted into a suffocating knot. By the time the footsteps reached his door, Volg's insides were churning with panic.

  The door creaked open, and six men filed in, one after the other. They were all cd in bck suits, their polished loafers gleaming under the room's sterile light. They lined up shoulder to shoulder, an impenetrable wall of muscle and menace. Then, a seventh figure entered.

  Shorter than the others, he appeared to be in his te forties. His charcoal-grey suit was impeccably tailored, and a heavy bck overcoat hung over his shoulders until one of his men stepped forward to remove it. His greying bck hair, slicked back against his head, accentuated a hairline that had receded well past the halfway mark. His eyes—cold, piercing, and bck as night—locked onto Volg with unyielding scrutiny. Thick bck eyebrows furrowed deeply as he surveyed the boy with palpable disdain.

  "Well, you look like shit, kid," the man sneered, his voice gravelly and unkind. "And believe me, I've seen my fair share of shit in my lifetime." He wrinkled his nose as if the sight of Volg disgusted him. "Especially the kind that got a little too cozy with Shimmer."

  "D-Don Seville," Volg stammered, his attempt at a brave front crumbling beneath his trembling voice. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon."

  "I ain't here for small talk, kid," Seville shot back. "You think you can py with the big boys and ignore the rules? Newsfsh: you don't get a free pass just 'cause your st name's Dryfus." He drew a slow, deliberate breath, his presence suffocating as he stepped closer to the bedside. "And word on the street is, your daddy ain't riding to your rescue. Not this time."

  Volg shrank further into the corner of his bed, the false bravado draining from his face. "L-look, whatever it is, I can fix it. I just need more time," he stammered desperately. "I'll get you what was promised, I swear."

  "Cute." Seville scoffed, shaking his head with a faint smirk of amusement. "You still think this is some kinda game. Like my dumbass son pying with his toys." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it with meticulous precision, he held it up for Volg to see. "I assume you can read, kid. Right here— 'one white wolf therianthrope, pristine condition.'" He tapped the bottom of the page, his cold gaze narrowing. "And ain't this your signature right here?"

  Volg swallowed hard, his gaze darting toward the door. A small, desperate part of him clung to the hope that his brother would burst in, ughing, and reveal this as some twisted practical joke. But the cold, oppressive air in the room made it clear—no one was coming.

  "Look at me when I'm talking to you, kid!" Seville barked, smming his hand against the wall just above Volg's head. The sharp crack of impact echoed through the room, making Volg flinch. He shuddered, his wide eyes reluctantly meeting Seville's cold, unrelenting stare.

  "I paid you in full," Seville hissed, "for something you said you had. And guess what? I don't see it." He leaned in, the heat of his words brushing against Volg's face. "You wanna know what happens when I don't see what I've paid for?"

  Volg's throat tightened, but he couldn't speak.

  "People get hurt," Seville continued. His bck eyes bore into Volg's, unblinking. "People like you get hurt."

  He straightened slightly, brushing invisible dust from his suit with deliberate care, before his voice dropped into something colder, almost conversational—but no less dangerous. "Sve trading ain't for the weak of heart, kid. You'd think someone with your st name would've figured that out by now."

  Seville's lips curled into a bitter smirk as he stepped back, pacing slightly. "Unlike you," he added, "I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I cwed my way to the top, scraped and bled for every damn thing I have. And you know how you stay on top?" He stopped, turning to Volg with a gre so intense it felt like a physical weight. "By making sure no one—absolutely no one—screws with you."

  "Don Seville, please," Volg pleaded. "I swear, I'll get you your money—or another sve, better than the one I promised. Just give me some time. I'll make it right."

  Seville didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out, grabbing Volg by the jaw and forcing his mouth open. Volg froze, his heart pounding in his chest as Seville tilted his head, inspecting him as if he were livestock. The man's cold bck eyes scrutinized every detail: the scars on his face, the unnatural glow in his eye, the faint vender cracks along his skin. Volg's stomach churned. He'd seen his own father do this a hundred times to new shipments—appraising, calcuting, deciding their worth.

  Seville finally released him, his fingers leaving a phantom ache on Volg's jaw. "Oh, and how exactly do you pn on paying me back, kid?" he mocked. "Gonna start pouring drinks down at the local pub? Maybe save up your pennies in a cute little piggy bank and pray it's enough to climb outta the mess you've made?"

  He chuckled darkly, his hands slipping into his pockets. "See, I don't think you really understand just how deep this shithole you've dug yourself into really is. You're so far in the red, kid, that I could cut you open, sell every inch of you, and still not cover the damn interest."

  Volg's blood ran cold as Seville rubbed his chin, muttering under his breath. "Doesn't seem like much, but I might be able to make some of it back. Maybe cut my losses a bit."

  The boy's eyes widened in terror as realization dawned on him. "No… you don't mean—"

  "And why not?" Seville interrupted. "I'm not exactly known for my patience, kid. You've been in this business long enough to know what happens to a man who can't pay his dues."

  Volg shook his head, trembling. "Please… please, I'll do anything. Just don't—"

  "Anything?" Seville smirked, leaning in close enough that Volg could smell the faint traces of cigars and cologne on him. "Funny, that's what they all say. And yet, here we are."

  The man in the charcoal suit whistled sharply, and one of his enforcers stepped forward. From his inner jacket, the enforcer produced a bck metallic colr, its steel polished and new, glowing with faintly etched runes along its surface. The sight of it drained the blood from Volg's face. He'd seen those colrs before—countless times.

  He remembered the screams, the begging, the desperate cries of those who'd had them snapped around their necks. And worse, he remembered the moment after—the light leaving their eyes as the runes fshed, branding them as nothing more than property. He sneered at their pain. Now, he was on the other side.

  "You're a dumb brat, no argument there," Seville said with a twisted smirk. "But you come from good stock. Pureblood wizard-born? That kind of pedigree could fetch me a small fortune in offspring." His tone growing darker.

  "And while I'm waiting for that return on investment, maybe I'll send you off to one of my pleasure houses. You'd be surprised how many high rollers would pay top Ptas to break in a pretty boy like you." He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Sure, it'll hurt at first—probably a lot—but practice makes perfect."

  "No! No, please, don't do this!" Volg cried, scrambling back against the headboard. His legs kicked helplessly at the bnket as he tried to put distance between himself and the advancing man. "Please, I'll do whatever you want! Anything! Just don't make me a sve!"

  Seville chuckled, his amusement cold and heartless. "Oh, it's adorable that you think you have a choice," he said, turning to the enforcer with the colr. "What're you waiting for? Get it on him."

  The colr snapped open with a metallic click as the enforcer stepped closer. Volg's cries grew more desperate, tears streaming down his face as he threw up his remaining arm in a futile defense. Just as the man reached for him, a soft beeping sound echoed through the room.

  Don Seville raised a finger, halting his man mid-step. The enforcer froze, turning to his boss. Seville reached into his pocket, retrieving a sleek, spherical device. Pcing it on his palm, the sphere emitted a faint glow, projecting a small, hovering screen of text. Seville's dark eyes scanned the dispy, his expression unreadable. He exhaled sharply, closed his eyes for a moment, and deactivated the device, sliding it back into his coat. With a casual wave, he gestured for his enforcer to step back. The man nodded, snapping the colr shut and retreating to his pce in line.

  "Well, it seems the Gods have a soft spot for you after all, kid," Seville sneered, his smirk curling as he crossed his arms. "Consider your debt paid in full." His tone was sharp, mocking. "Word of advice—don't screw over anyone else. Not everyone's as forgiving as me." He turned on his heel, signaling his men to follow.

  Volg blinked in disbelief, his breaths ragged and shallow. "Wait—what do you mean? Who paid it off? Was it my father? My brother?"

  Seville paused at the door, gncing over his shoulder. One of his men slipped his coat back onto his shoulders with practiced ease. "You wish. Neither of them could be bothered. They were more than happy to let you hang. The one who bailed you out—"

  "Would be me," a voice cut in, smooth and casual.

  Volg's head snapped toward the doorway, his eyes widening in shock. There, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms folded with an infuriatingly smug smirk on his face, was Sazar Slytherin.

  "Y-you?" Volg stammered. "You?"

  Seville chuckled, striding over to Sazar and extending his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Slytherin," he said. "If you ever need sves—or anything else, really—you know who to call."

  Sazar shook his hand but leaned in slightly. "I would say the pleasure is mine, Don Seville," he said, his emerald eyes glinting with disdain. "But that would be a lie. Frankly, I'd love nothing more than to see you and your kind drown in your own filth before being personally escorted to Hell's deepest pit."

  Seville blinked, his eyes widening briefly before a booming ugh erupted from his chest. "Oh, the balls on you, kid—I like it!" He released Sazar's hand with a smirk. "Be seeing you, then."

  "If I do, it'll be far too soon," Sazar replied coolly, watching as Seville and his entourage filed out of the room, their polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor.

  Sazar shut the door with an exaggerated sigh, leaning against it for a moment before striding toward the foot of Volg's bed. His smirk widened as he surveyed the scene before him, his gaze dripping with mockery. "Ah, Volg Dryfus. If ever there was a picture of a man who'd hit rock bottom, it's you."

  He gestured dramatically with his hand. "No Cn, no standing, no arm, no family… and no best friend. You are, without a doubt, a masterpiece of misery. A living cautionary tale." He chuckled. "If only I could immortalize this moment, hang it on my wall, and marvel at it every day."

  Volg's face twisted with anger, his good hand clenching the bnket tightly. "What the Hell did you do, Slytherin?" he snapped. "How did you settle things with Don Seville? Was it bckmail? Threats?"

  "Oh, Volg, you wound me," Sazar pced a hand over his chest as if genuinely hurt. "Do you really think I'd sink to your level, relying on such crude and underhanded tactics to achieve my goals?" He shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. No, my dear Volg. Unlike you, I pn ahead. I make investments—smart ones, long-term ones."

  He leaned forward slightly. "The sum you owed Don Seville. It would have taken you, what, ten lifetimes to pay off? But for me?" Sazar shrugged, fshing a smug smile. "Mere pocket change. I simply reached into my coffers and squared your little debt. No bckmail, no threats, just good old-fashioned coin."

  "Bullshit!" Volg snarled, his teeth bared in frustration. "Someone your age can't possibly have that much coin! Even I know the Slytherin family isn't rolling in gold!"

  Sazar's smirk only widened, his emerald eyes gleaming with amusement. "Careful now," he drawled. "Underestimating a man is precisely what nded you in this mess to begin with. You underestimated Godric Gryffindor, thought he was nothing more than a simple, hopeless boonie from the countryside—docile, dimwitted, and beneath you. And what did that arrogance get you? The wrath of a lion, unleashed."

  Suddenly, Volg's expression twisted with realization, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You bastard," he snarled. "If you were really swimming in mountains of gold, you could've just bought that fleabag's freedom outright! None of this would've happened!"

  Sazar raised an unimpressed brow, tilting his head slightly. "And give you the satisfaction?" His lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Oh, perish the thought, Volg. Lessons needed to be learned, egos needed to be crushed. I told you that day, didn't I? That it would be the st victory you'd ever taste."

  His piercing gaze locking onto Volg's. "And let's not kid ourselves here. Would you even have sold her if you'd known I was the buyer? Of course not. You're petty, predictable, and pathetically short-sighted." Sazar let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, this wasn't about buying freedom—it was about teaching a spoiled little boy that the world doesn't bow to his tantrums."

  Volg scoffed, crossing his remaining arm over his chest. "So what? Gryffindor got his win, and I've lost everything. Cn, status, my arm—everything." He leaned forward; his gre sharp. "And you're an even bigger fool if you think you're going to see a single coin back from me. I owe you nothing. You don't have a contract on me, and I'm no sve of yours. That's on you for being stupid enough to pay my debt."

  Sazar's quiet chuckle filled the room, building into a full-blown ugh that sent chills down Volg's spine. "Oh, Volg," he said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Do you actually think this was charity? That I paid off your debt out of some mispced kindness?" His grin turned sharp, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. "You're just like Gramont—a poor, simple fool.

  "Let me be perfectly clear," Sazar continued. "I don't waste my time on petty retributions or chasing down coins owed by the likes of you. No, this wasn't a favor. This was an investment, and rest assured, you'll come to understand just how worthy an investment it truly was."

  Volg fred with anger as he snapped, "Don't you dare say Rance's name, you conniving little—"

  "How did it feel?" Sazar asked suddenly. "Watching them come toward you with that colr in hand?"

  Volg's eyes widened, the memory fshing in his mind like a haunting specter.

  "How did it feel," Sazar continued, his tone sharpening, "knowing you were seconds away from that thing snapping shut around your neck? Knowing that, in an instant, you would no longer be seen as human—just a piece of property, a commodity to be bought, sold, and used?"

  He moved closer as his emerald eyes bore into Volg's. "How did it feel to realize your body would no longer belong to you? That your existence would be reduced to bending over to satisfy the whims of the vile and the lustful, over and over, until you broke? And when you did, to know you'd be tossed aside like refuse and repced?"

  Sazar leaned in, his smirk gone, repced by a grim expression. Volg recoiled, his body pressing against the headboard as if he could escape the weight of Sazar's words.

  "That, my dear Volg, is the reality that countless sves endure every single day," Sazar said. "The reality that Raine and so many others face, from people like you. From people like your family. Torn from their homes, stripped of their lives, and exist at the unspeakable whims of their masters."

  His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating.

  "I want you to hold on to that feeling," Sazar eyes narrowed. "The next time you so much as look at a sve, the next time you even think about degrading them, I want this moment to haunt you. I want you to remember what it felt like to be powerless, to be just one breath away from losing everything. And then I want you to remember that the only reason you're still breathing as a free man is because I allowed it."

  Volg's face twisted in anger and fear, but Sazar pressed on, sharp and unrelenting. "You hurt my friends. You hurt the one person Godric loves more than life itself. For that alone, I would've gdly let Don Seville have his way with you. I could've watched as you became everything you've always despised. But I didn't. Do you know why?"

  Sazar drew a deep breath, his expression softening just slightly. "Because, unlike you, I'm not a heartless bastard." He stepped back; his gaze still locked on Volg. "Not really."

  Volg sat in stunned silence, sweat trickling down the side of his face as Sazar's words took root. The weight of it all began to sink in—the brutal truth he'd spent his life denying. He wasn't untouchable. He could have been stripped of everything, dragged away like livestock, condemned to a life of misery and degradation.

  The memories hit him like a battering ram: the smug smirks, the punishments he dealt, the ughter at others' expense. For the first time, the horrifying notion that he could have been on the receiving end haunted him, pnting a seed of fear he'd never known.

  Sazar watched him. His sharp gaze unyielding. "You've spent your life treating sves like Raine, Sofea, even Hikari, as nothing more than dirt under your boot. Worthless. Objects to exploit and discard." He paused.

  "But to me? They're people who've been dealt the worst hand imaginable and yet still rise every single day. They endure everything thrown at them—pain, humiliation, suffering—because they cling to the belief that one day, somehow, things will be better. That's courage, Volg. Courage you wouldn't even begin to understand."

  Sazar leaned closer. "And I pray that someday, people like you, the Guild, the Union, the Authority—every wretched sver in Avalon—will get exactly what's coming to them. I hope I'm there to watch when it happens. Watch as it all burns to ash."

  Volg scoffed, his jaw tightening as his teeth clenched. "Why do you care? No—scratch that, you don't. You've never cared, and we both know it." He turned his head away. "None of it matters anymore. My father's abandoned me, my brother's turned his back on me, and everyone else is just waiting for me to fail again. I've seen the students walking past my room, the way they look at me. Forget ever being the leader of the Calishans—I'll never even be a normal student again. This whole mess has painted me as an irredeemable vilin, and I'll always be the outcast, the pariah. The—"

  He stopped mid-sentence, his words faltering when he noticed the knowing grin tugging at Sazar's lips.

  "Oh, don't stop now, Dryfus," Sazar drawled. "You were so close to reaching an epiphany. Please, continue."

  Volg's gre hardened, but the words refused to come. Instead, he slumped further into his bed, his fist curling against the bnket.

  Sazar's grin faded, his expression turning sharper, colder. "Here's the truth, Volg: everything you just said? You're not wrong. You are a pariah. You are an outcast. But let me ask you this—do you think wallowing in self-pity will change any of that? Or are you going to stand up, face the mess you made, and try to fix it?"

  Volg didn't respond, his gaze fixed on his bnket.

  "Well," Sazar continued, "whether you do or not, that's entirely up to you. Life has handed you one st chance—undeserved, yes, but a chance nonetheless. You're standing at a crossroad. You can choose to cling to your anger and grievances, or you can try to become the man your brother once believed you could be."

  "As for me?" His smirk returned, faint but cutting. "I'm just the devil at that particur crossroad. The choice? That's all yours." Sazar then gnced at the clock mounted on the wall.

  "Well, as much as I'd love to stay and bask in the aftermath of your misery, I do have far better company to keep and more pressing matters to attend to." He straightened his robes with a flourish. "I'll leave you to your thoughts, Volg. I imagine you've got quite a bit to mull over. And as they say in The Congregation…" He gave a mocking salute. "Be seeing you."

  He turned and strode toward the door, his steps confident and measured.

  "Wait," Volg's voice stopped Sazar in his tracks. "It's been bothering me."

  Sazar paused, one hand on the doorknob, tilting his head slightly.

  "You were the st person to see Rance alive," Volg continued. "And I know Rance better than anyone. He'd never take his own life. Never." Volg's gaze hardened, desperation flickering in his eyes. "So, tell me, Slytherin, just this once… did you do it? Did you kill him?"

  For a moment, silence hung in the air. Sazar let out a slow, deliberate breath, his hand covering his face as he tilted his head back. Then, with an almost zy motion, he craned his neck to gnce over his shoulder. His amber iris, now slitted like a serpent's, glowed faintly in the dim light. The corners of his lips pulled into a demented, predatory smile that sent a chill down Volg's spine.

  The room was suddenly alive with a symphony of hissing, a sinister chorus that seemed to echo from every corner, enveloping the space. The sound was chilling, more than just the rustle of unseen serpents—it carried a cadence, a rhythm, almost as if the hissing formed words in an ancient, alien tongue. Volg's breath quickened, his wide eyes darting frantically around the room, searching for the source. Yet, no matter where he looked, there was nothing. No shadows moved, no forms slithered, and yet the sound persisted, growing louder, more insistent.

  And then, just as abruptly as it had started, the hissing ceased. The room once again fell into an unnatural silence, oppressive and heavy, as if the sinister symphony had never existed. Volg's chest heaved, his pulse pounding in his ears.

  "Who's to say, dear Volg?" Sazar murmured. A soft chuckle escaped his throat, low and sinister. "But rest assured…" His eyes narrowed, the grin widening. "He didn't suffer."

  The chuckle grew into a dark, resonant ugh as he turned and exited the room, shutting the door behind him with a finality that left Volg frozen.

  Volg's body trembled, his breath ragged as sweat poured down his face. He clenched the sheets beneath him, the word slipping from his lips in a shaky whisper.

  "Monster."

  Sazar stepped into the hallway, the soft hum of conversations from the waiting room blending with the rhythmic shuffle of medical personnel. He inhaled deeply, the air thick with the scent of herbs and potions.

  "You know, pretending to be the vilin isn't nearly as convincing if you're not willing to see it all the way through," Sazar said, tilting his head to the side. His sharp emerald eyes found Laxus, who leaned casually against the wall near the door. "They used to call you the Thunder Emperor, didn't they? Yet beneath that hardened exterior, you're as soft as they come."

  Laxus chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Sharp tongue, Slytherin. The stories weren't wrong about you." His gaze turned thoughtful. "I suppose I owe you some thanks, though."

  "I'm unsure how much that's worth," Sazar replied, turning fully to face him. "After all, you were never going to let Don Seville take him, were you?"

  Laxus shrugged, his expression softening. "Volg's a little shitstain, but he's my shitstain. Father's ready to wash his hands of him, but not me. Family is family. You don't turn your back on that."

  Sazar folded his arms, studying him. "It's going to be a long, treacherous road ahead. Perhaps with the miracles of modern magic and medicine, he can regain some sembnce of normalcy. But what's in here"—he tapped his temple— "that's entirely on him."

  "I know," Laxus said with a sigh. "Give me some time, and I'll repay what you spent on his behalf—"

  Sazar raised a hand, cutting him off with a smirk. "Like I said before, call it an investment. I have a feeling it'll pay off in ways I can't even begin to predict."

  He turned to leave, offering a small bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

  Laxus called after him, a faint smile on his lips. "Send my regards to Gryffindor and his girl. And to Helena and Helga as well."

  Sazar waved a hand in acknowledgment, his pace unbroken as he disappeared down the corridor.