Caruncle couldn’t see anything. Cold stone pressed against his bare skin. His wrists and ankles burned where the chains dug in. His body ached in ways he had stopped cataloging long ago.

  The door creaked open. Footsteps—measured, unhurried. Lopez.

  Caruncle didn’t look up. He barely breathed.

  A metal bucket hit the floor beside him with a dull cng.

  “Drink.”

  He dragged the bucket closer, hands shaking, and slurped the water like a dog.

  Lopez chuckled. “Your father was quite the sad old man, Caruncle.”

  Ah. Here we go.

  Lopez crouched, watching him with fascinated contempt, like a scientist observing a rat that had outlived its usefulness.

  “You wanna know what happens next?” His voice was casual, conversational, like he was about to recount a funny story at dinner.

  Caruncle didn't answer.

  Lopez didn’t care. He continued, tone almost fond.

  “Your brother came storming into your father’s office, shouting about some ridiculous painting—‘Egg’s Feet,’ remember that? What a stupid name. A naked fox-man or something, stolen generations ago, bh bh. He accused your father of selling it on the bck market. Tragic.

  “Then—oh, you’ll love this part—you got brought up. Yes, right in the middle of the shouting match. Your dear brother decided that the real problem wasn’t the bankruptcy, the fraud, or even the dead fence who got shot in the street. No, no—it was you.”

  Lopez smiled.

  “They argued about you for—what? Forty minutes? ‘My father’s a criminal!’ ‘Oh yeah? My brother’s a pervert!’ The whole thing turned into an absolute circus.

  "And your engagement? Gone. Evelyn wanted out. Can’t say I bme her.”

  He leaned in closer.

  “So there you were. A disgraced freak, a financial failure, a public humiliation. And then... I walked in."

  Silence.

  Caruncle stared at the floor. His face was expressionless, but his whole body trembled.

  Lopez sighed theatrically. “What, no questions? No 'why me, why this, boo hoo?’”

  Still nothing.

  “Well, I think it’s funny,” Lopez muttered.

  I agreed.

  Look—Caruncle is pathetic, we all know that, but he’s my pathetic man. My useless lump of self-pity to kick around. And yet, somehow, these respectable people—his own family—had managed to outdo me.

  Imagine that. A whole room of educated, high-society individuals deciding the best course of action was to turn one nervous little loser into a human sacrifice.

  Even I hadn’t been that cruel.

  Ten Years Later.

  Yeah, you read that right.

  Ten.

  Whole.

  Years.

  That’s how long Caruncle had been rotting down here.

  His world had shrunk to filth, darkness, and a constant gnawing pain.

  Lopez had been methodical. He started with the toes. One by one. Then the fingers on his right hand. Four remained. A mercy.

  Not for much longer.

  Lopez had promised him that when he ran out of fingers, he’d start taking eyes.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, Caruncle deserved every bit of misery. But ten years? Even I was starting to get bored.

  One day, a new man arrived.

  Caruncle barely reacted. New buyers weren’t rare. He had been appraised like livestock before—poked, prodded, rejected.

  But this man was... different.

  For one, he was huge.

  The trench coat he wore only made him look rger, his frame absurdly broad. He moved with the measured ease of a butcher picking out the best cut.

  He crouched beside Caruncle. Studied him. Touched his chin.

  Caruncle flinched, but the man’s grip was gentle.

  “You’re the one who said he’d rather have a cunt, aren’t you?”

  Silence.

  Caruncle’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

  The man’s bored tone didn’t change.

  “I asked if you’re the one who wants a cunt.”

  Nothing.

  The man sighed and stood. “Are you sure this is the one?”

  Lopez chuckled. “Pretty sure.”

  “Well then.” The man tossed a small case to Lopez. “I’ll take him.”

  Lopez blinked. That was fast.

  “Oh! Of course, sir! Now, just to crify—he’s completely useless. No skills, doesn’t follow orders, screams if you use him too roughly—”

  “Mm.” The man rolled his shoulders. “I’ll manage.”

  “Right! Right. So, what exactly do you need him for?”

  The man paused at the door.

  “Food.”

  Lopez ughed.

  “Oh, I like you. I really do. Now—what kind of beasts would require such expensive meat?”

  The man didn’t look back.

  “Some beasts aren’t so easily fed.”

  And with that, he left.

  Caruncle didn’t resist. He didn’t struggle.

  He just let himself be carried away.