Day 2 was literally more hell for Star and this wasn’t an exaggeration.

The intensity in the atmosphere was evidently present from when he woke up with more restricted clothing and the familiar feeling of invasion as he once again was reminded of his lack of privacy. To the demonic presence of the handlers who were different from the ones he saw normally, today’s own wore veils over their heads and their fingertips were blackened with something unsettling. Star could smell it as they "handled" him like an object.

They moved with cold efficiency, rigorously rubbing thick enchanted oils into his skin that made every inch of his body tingle and burn slightly. Star could hear them sneering away in jealousy as they rubbed Thier fustrations on him.

The new outfit was worse than yesterday. White and gold fabric wrapped around him like ceremonial battle-dancer attire, but it was deliberately revealing. The top piece barely covered his chest, connected by thin golden chains that left his shoulders, waist, and most of his back exposed. Slits ran high along his thighs, showing smooth pale skin with every step. Additional chains draped across his hips and collarbones, jingling softly like mocking bells. No, it indeed were mocking bells...

Star clenched his jaw as one veiled handler applied shimmering enchantment tattoos along his collarbones and inner wrists. The marks glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat and making his natural beauty even more hypnotic.

"Stop," Star muttered, trying to pull his arm away. "I can dress myself."

The handler didn’t even pause. "Scilence Whore!" She said as she gave him a heavy slap that came from a place of disdain. A slao so heavy that star’s reality was shaken.

"A Slave should not be talking!" She said and continued her work, the chains jingling with every tug.

Another handler worked on his long silver hair, braiding parts of it with golden threads while leaving the rest flowing down his back. The scent from their blackened fingertips was sharp, like steel mixed with something wet and spoilt. It clung to Star’s skin and made his head feel slightly light. Was this a sedative perhaps?

He tried again, keeping his voice soft. "What happens if no one buys me after all five days?"

he said, knowing damn well what the truth was

The lead handler let out a short, cold laugh. "Someone like you? Impossible. You will be sold. The only question is to whom. Now hold still or we will use the stronger sedative."

Star fell silent. He tested the suppression cuffs again while they worked, pushing mana harder than before. The cuffs flared angrily and sent a painful jolt through his arms and spine. He bit his lip to stay quiet, but the small act of resistance made him feel slightly more whoozy.

When they finally finished, Star barely recognized himself in the mirror. He looked like a beautiful warrior captive ...elegant, alluring, and completely trapped.

The underground hall felt heavier tonight. The crystal chandeliers were dimmed, casting long shadows that made the entire space feel more like a war council than a glamorous auction. The audience had changed too. Military nobles sat in stiff postures, their armor and medals glinting. Battle-hardened commanders with cold eyes filled the front rows. The air itself felt thicker, weighed down by stronger suppression magic that pressed down on Star’s shoulders the moment he stepped onto the stage. The cumulated aura of blood lust.

The rotating platform started turning under the focused spotlights.

The auctioneer’s voice rang out with a more serious, respectful tone. "Welcome to Day Two. Yesterday the Silver-Haired Prize drew great interest. Tonight we present him again, not just as delicate beauty, but as something rarer a soft jewel with hidden strength beneath. A prize worthy of true warriors and leaders who understand both conquest and care. Bidding begins at twelve thousand gold!"

The gazes in the crowd were heavier and more predatory. These people did not whisper and laugh like yesterday’s guests. They stared in scilence evaluating and calculating.

Star stood tall on the spinning platform, but his stomach twisted into knots. He could feel them stripping away not just his clothes, but his dignity, his past, his future.

A powerful presence entered the hall from the side entrance. Star sighed, glad the attention had been temporary moved away from him. He would use the time to breathe.

The crowd turned as a tall woman in silver-black armor walked forward. She was striking in a fierce way. A long scar ran across her left cheek and another peeked just above her collar. Her steel-gray eyes locked onto Star with sharp intensity. Short dark hair framed her face, and her broad shoulders carried the weight of real battles.

"Lady Seraphine Voss," someone whispered. "Knight Commander of the Northern March."

Lady Seraphine raised her hand without hesitation. "Twenty-five thousand gold."

She did not sit like the others. Instead, she stepped closer to the stage and requested a private viewing circle. The handlers created a shielded dome around part of the platform after a moment of hesitation. For those few precious minutes, it was just Star and her. Nobody dared speak a word.

Seraphine studied him in silence first. Her gaze moved slowly over his body, but it was different from Duke Valerian’s hungry stare. There was desire, yes, but also something comfortable about it.

"You carry yourself better than most who stand here," she said. Her voice was low, steady, and rough around the edges like someone used to giving orders on bloody fields. "Tell me, Silver One... how much fight is still left in you?"

Star met her eyes directly. "Enough to hate every second of this."

A faint smile touched her scarred lips. "Good. I have fought for twenty years on the northern borders. I have buried friends. Lost lovers to war. My life is filled with steel, blood, and duty. Darkness clings to me." She stepped closer, towering over him. "But when I look at you, I see something soft and pure. Something that could balance the weight I carry. Not a toy to break. Not a decoration to show off. A consort. A light. Someone whose presence might quiet the nightmares."

Star’s throat tightened. "You speak of protection and light, yet you still bid to own me like a horse."

"Because this rotten system is the only path available," Seraphine replied honestly. "If I do not claim you, someone shady will. They would dress you in silks and slowly crush your spirit for his amusement. I would give you respect. Status. A place beside me where no one would dare touch you without permission. I can offer safety in a cruel world."

She reached out slowly and gently lifted a strand of his silver hair, examining it under the light. "You have strength in those eyes. I can see the fire. Many beautiful ones break quickly here. You have not broken yet. That intrigues me more than your face or body."

Star felt shaken. No one had spoken to him like this since his capture. The offer was enticing but...

"I don’t want to be anyone’s light or salvation," he said quietly. "I want my freedom. My own path."

Seraphine’s steel-gray eyes softened for the briefest moment. "Freedom is a rare luxury few ever truly possess. But I can give you a better cage than most. Think on that while the others bid like dogs."

She stepped back out of the private circle and raised her hand again. "Thirty-eight thousand gold."

The bidding became a tense, strategic war. Duke Valerian’s representatives were present...pushing aggressively from the side, trying to drive the price higher.

Lady Seraphine countered with calm, disciplined raises.

During the short viewing pauses, Star tried something different. Instead of looking a fool, he softened his posture slightly and let his gentle voice carry across the stage.

"Those who see only beauty often lose what truly matters underneath."

Some of the military nobles hesitated. Others looked even more interested. His small attempt at using his presence as a tool did not go unnoticed by Lady Seraphine, who gave him a faint approving nod.

In the end, after several intense rounds, Lady Seraphine’s final bid of forty-seven thousand gold won the day.

Back in his holding cell, Star collapsed onto the silk bed the moment the door locked. His body ached from standing under the lights. His mind felt completely drained. The heavy atmosphere of today’s crowd, combined with Seraphine’s intense words, left him emotionally exhausted.

He lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time.

Everyone who looked at him saw something different. To Duke Valerian he was a beautiful toy to steal and break. To collectors he was a rare prize. To Lady Seraphine he was a potential light to heal her darkness. None of them truly saw him — just Star, the person who wanted to walk his own road.

"Everyone wants a piece of me," he whispered. "But none of them want me free."

Yet a small, fragile spark had taken root in his mind. People kept projecting different desires onto him. Maybe... just maybe... he could learn to use that. Show them exactly what they wanted to see while working toward his own escape.

It was a dangerous thought. But it was the first real hope he had felt since waking up in this silk prison.