There’s a clearance sale happening at Miracle Plaza – the first and perhaps, only sale, this year. So ofcourse, Mother and I shall not miss it.

After a 16 hour ride, I can finally feel the cold breeze of the ocean wash my face.

You see, Miracle Plaza is no ordinary plaza. It takes place in a large ship, sent by Zhurria – our gracious neighbouring state and provider – every year.

I hop off the carriage and pass 3 cigarettes to the coachman, instructing him to wait by the side and feed the horse while Mother and I run our errands. “Thank you mi lady” he bows.

I link my arm with Mother’s, leading her towards the large wooden ship structure sitting by the shoreline, half floating. The whole area is bustling with energy, filled with wealthy court people, like us, squealing about how delighted they are about the excellent deals they scored today. I feel giddy with excitement.

Mother and I finally make our way inside the ship, gunning straight for the 70% OFF section. The court people are right – prices are spectacular around here. Only 20 pennies for A34, and 30 pennies for two: A34 and A46.

“Take me…!!” I feel a hand touch my shoulder. I smack it away as quickly as I can. It is A34.

How dare it touch me.

I guess 20 pennies for it is rubbish after all. It will need at least another 20 for professional taming before I can get any real use out of it. I glare at it and walk away, pulling Mother with me.

You see, Miracle Plaza is no ordinary Plaza. It sells slaves not goods. It sells those who are arrogant, those who are ugly, those who defy their masters, and those who are struggling to survive.

Certainly, those are not desirable traits. But at least I get a discount.

As I continue to walk along many lines of desperate eyes, one pair locks me in, on the spot.

B67.

What a beauty.

It almost looks like it belongs on the other side. Its body is badly bruised and its garment is torn, but somehow, I still see fire in its eyes. It almost offends me how much life it seems to still have inside of it. It notices me, and smirks. How dare it.

“You are mine” I mutter under my breath.

I call out to the ship’s captain, “I want custody of B67.”