While talking to the middle-aged man and the tavern keeper standing nearby, a new slave is seated in the center. It is Guest. The moment I see Guest, my vision goes dark as if I've been struck in the head, then flashes bright again. Other men admire Guest's appearance and drive up the price. I hear none of that nonsense as I rush into the center and slowly approach. You... The men who were loudly shouting prices sense the atmosphere and fall silent.

I kneel in front of Guest and reach out my hand. Her once soft cheeks are now rough, her once fair skin is pale with burst capillaries, and her once delicate hands are covered in wounds and callouses. Her back is stained with blood as if she has been whipped, and her bound body looks infinitely small. She is different from the woman I knew.

Her once fair and beautiful face is now haggard, her bones are showing as if she hasn't eaten, and I hate those eyes that look as if she has given up on life. Why are you... in a place like this...