The morning sun filtered softly through navy curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room where Adachi slept, ensconced in the comfort of his own bed. Next to him, his gaming PC sat silent, a tale to the late nights spent gaming, battles fought, and quests completed. The tranquility of the scene was a stark contrast to the adventures that unfolded beyond the screen, in realms far removed from the white walls of his bedroom.

Suddenly, the peace was shattered by a voice, insistent and familiar. "Adachi, wake up! You'll be late; it's your first day!" The words barely registered in Adachi's sleep-addled mind as he grappled with the meaning. Late? Late for what? His thoughts were a tangled mess as he struggled to emerge from the depths of sleep.

As he opened his eyes, confusion gave way to the realization of where he was. His bedroom, with its comforting presence and personal touches, enveloped him in a sense of normalcy. But the normalcy was short-lived.

With a whoosh that seemed to slice through the air, a strong light invaded the room, blinding him momentarily. His sister, ever the morning person, had flung the curtains wide open with a dramatic flourish, allowing the morning sun to flood the space. The sudden brightness was an assault on his senses, forcing him to shield his eyes with a groan.

"Idiot! Stop it!" Adachi couldn't help but shout, the irritation palpable in his voice as he squinted against the light, trying to adjust.

"You'd better get up unless you want another taste of that whip," his sister retorted, her voice laced with a warning that puzzled Adachi even further. What whip? The confusion only deepened as he felt himself being jostled from side to side, the remnants of sleep rapidly fleeing.

Amidst this chaos, a faint and distant sound reached his ears, pulling him further from the embrace of slumber. "Mister, mister, get up! We have to line up for the slavers!" The words, so incongruous with the safety of his bedroom, sent a shiver down his spine.

In that moment, the world shifted. The familiarity of his surroundings clashed violently with the words that echoed in his mind. Slavers? Line up? The reality he knew seemed to fracture, giving way to a creeping dread that something was terribly wrong, that perhaps he wasn't where he thought he was.

The hall echoed with a commanding shout, "Arr, line up!" The authority in the order was unmistakable, resonating through the cold, unforgiving space that Adachi and the others were confined in. At the sound, the little boy who had been by Adachi's side, trying to wake him up, quickly scurried away, finding a place among the others who had already begun to form a line. Adachi watched him go, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew all too well the consequences of defiance — another encounter with the whip was something he desperately wanted to avoid.

With a sense of resignation, Adachi made a mental note to join the lineup, to blend in and avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to himself. He shifted, intending to use his left hand for support as he prepared to stand. However, the moment his weight pressed down, a sharp, unbearable pain shot through his arm, eliciting a loud scream from his lips. He collapsed to his left side, unable to support himself, his face pressing against the cold floor. It hit him like a wave — perhaps his bones were fractured, a grim souvenir from the previous day's attack.

Groaning in agony, Adachi's plight quickly caught the attention of a nearby slaver. The man approached, his steps echoing ominously across the hall. "Any problem?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he towered over Adachi's prone form.

Fearing further escalation and knowing the futility of resistance, Adachi swallowed his pride. He carefully leaned on his right arm, gritting his teeth against the pain, and pushed himself up. His voice was a mere whisper, laced with pain and submission, as he begged forgiveness from the slaver. The effort to stand was monumental, each movement sending waves of pain through his injured Arm, but he knew he had no choice. With difficulty, he finally managed to rise, hastening to join the end of the line.

As he found his place among the others, Adachi could feel the slaver's gaze burning into his back, a silent reminder of the power the man held over him and the others. The slaver's footsteps receded as he walked past, leaving Adachi to stand in line, nursing his injuries and swallowing the bitter taste.

In the dimly lit expanse of the hall, the man with the fiery red hair and beard, who had unmistakably established himself as the leader of the slavers, began a grim selection process. His presence commanded attention, a stark to the despair that filled the room. As he pointed decisively at each girl, one of his men swiftly escorted her away, leaving a palpable tension in the air.

He spoke with a gruff authority, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "The Din of Byako is seeking to enlarge his collection of ceshi's for his harem," he announced, his words laced with a cold, business-like detachment. "Ensure they are well cleansed before sending them off, and clothe them in suitable attire." His directives were clear, spoken with the expectation of obedience.

Across the room, amidst the shuffle and quiet murmurs of the captives, Adachi's eyes frantically searched until they found Leon. Their gaze locked for a brief moment, a silent exchange fraught with emotion. In that glance, Adachi saw the relief wash over Leon's face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, a mark of the fear and uncertainty that had besieged her. She seemed on the verge of breaking down, but with a remarkable show of will, she composed herself. However, her moment of vulnerability did not go unnoticed.

The slaver leader, ever observant, caught the brief interaction. With a curt nod, he signaled one of his subordinates to take her as well. The decision sent a jolt of panic through Adachi, and instinctively, his hand shot up in protest. But the movement was halted by a surge of pain from his injured arm, a cruel reminder of his own frailty. The pain stifled his voice, his courage faltering as their situation crashed down upon him.

Leon's eyes met Adachi's one last time as she was led away, a look of defeat mingled. It was a silent acknowledgment of his helplessness in the face of overwhelming odds.