Chapter Text
“Choi Seungcheol? In this establishment?” He hastily pulled on his jacket and combed his greasy hair back over his head with thick fingers. “Quick, how do I look? No – where did you put him? Is he? Oh, God.” The short, pudgy little man ran out of his grubby office and slid into the waiting room only to stand there, frozen, jaw hanging open.
It really was Choi Seungcheol. In this establishment.
And the man was more handsome in real life than he could ever be in pictures.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit in a deep grey colour with a matching silver tie and a blood-red pocket square attached over the left breast. His hair seemed as soft as a duckling’s feathers and his eyes were the roundest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Ah, there you are. Good. I don’t enjoy waiting.” The impeccably dressed man sprang up from his seat with ease, bodyguards shifting behind him. “I’m here to see your collection.”
“M-m-my collection? My lord?”
“Yes, your collection.” Choi Seungcheol brushed his fingers down the front of his jacket. “I heard you had the best.” It took a moment of silence for this to be processed. “I do not enjoy waiting.”
“Yes! Yes my lord. Yes of course, this way please.” He used a handkerchief to dab sweat off his red face as he lead Choi Seungcheol and entourage through the complex. “I-I’ll sh-show you only the – the finest examples, my lord! P-please, come this way, come this way.”
The hallway they eventually sauntered to was an incredibly long corridor: these establishments were rarely nice, but this one was extra shady to say the least. There was little lighting save small, focused lights dotted along either wall, the brick seemed to be teeming with insect life, and there was an awful chill in the air. Steps echoed as the small group marched slowly along, adding to the haunting effect.
“I-if I may ask, my lord, your own Sitim…”
“My Sitim fell victim to the Black Disease.” Choi Seungcheol’s tone was suddenly cold and brisk: evidently he did not want to speak about it, and that was more than alright with the sweaty man.
“Is my lord searching for a female, or a male?”
“Either is fine.” He sounded bored already.
And so the flustered salesman slowly sauntered down the corridor: every few steps the group stopped to examine the display case.
Each display case was tall, but small – not one of them could sit properly in their cages. Each was highlighted with bright LED lighting, pinpointing the inhabitants clearly. They were all very pretty, it was not difficult to admit: some had a little more clothing than others, and all had thick leather collars that indicated they were the Unbitten; the purest of Sitim that the world had to offer. Each display case had a form, informing the reader of the Sitim’s size, weight, gender, age, eye colour, previous history, traits and most importantly, blood type.
Choi Seungcheol made little reaction to any and all of the Sitim in their display cases, even the ones that moved and posed and flirted.
At the very end of the corridor, somebody was desperate to make a sale.
“This one, m-my lord – this one is a very precious item. Possibly the most precious. I’ve only had him for a few days.” He rubbed his hands a little.
Choi Seungcheol observed the body inside the case: between his diminutive height and chubby-cheeked face he seemed barely more than a boy, though his form swore he was twenty. He was very pretty, that much was certain – smooth-skinned, fair, dark eyes. And he was an A-type. They always tasted vaguely of sweet, rich things.
“…why does he wear a gag?”
It was the first question he’d asked yet.
“Oh! Ah see, we’ve… been having a little trouble with this one. He is being constantly drugged, you see, to keep him sedated. He’s… he is… he was, eh…”
“Out with it.”
He cleared his throat. “He is from a Hunting clan.”
The three men turned to their salesman slowly.
“He is what?”
“He’s from a Hunting clan. He was wounded during a raid and left for dead before he was caught. You see, here.” The man pointed to a white bandage on the boy’s shin. “Here, you see, he is a little damaged. The healers do come in every day to fix it, though, so he’s healing very well. You would have to keep him drugged – or an attachment hex would be appropriate.”
Choi Seungcheol leaned in to the glass, looking at the innocent-faced boy in the display case.
“…how much?”