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Damien's boots splashed through puddles of neon-lit water as he slipped into the Red Light District. He had seen parts of this place from a distance before, but walking through it… was sothing else entirely.
The air was thick — perfu, sweat, alcohol, excitent, and desperation all mixing into sothing uniquely suffocating.
Won in clothes that barely counted as clothing strutted down the street, each move exaggerated, each smile sharpened by practice. So were pressed against n. Others leaned into them. Others called out with voices dripping honey and poison.
Even with a hood shadowing his head and a mask covering half his face, Damien did not go unnoticed.
A woman with violet hair and a dress that looked more like a ribbon wrapped around her body grabbed his hand."Hi, darling! I'll be a very special experience for you. Only 7,000 valis. I promise you won't forget ."
Damien gently pulled his hand back and kept walking.
Another ca imdiately, her bare leg sliding in front of him like she was blocking traffic."Co here, cutie. You look new. I'll give you the ride of your life. First ti discount~"
He stepped around her without a word.
Then a man appeared — tall, muscled, bronzed skin, wearing nothing but decorative boxers and confidence."Forget the won," he said, striking a pose. "I can change your life."
Damien didn't even slow down.
As he pushed deeper in, the lights sohow grew brighter yet the shadows felt darker. Eventually, he reached a long, wide street — and froze.
On the left and right, behind rows of reinforced glass, stood won.
Not scantily dressed.
Not teasingly dressed.
Completely nude.Posing.Displaying themselves.Trying to catch a man's eye.Trying to avoid a worse fate.
n crowded around the glass walls like animals at a market, shouting prices, waving sacks of valis, begging certain Ishtar Familia mbers for "first pick."
Damien's jaw clenched beneath the mask.
This place… is filth.
He pushed forward, weaving through the shouting, ignoring the drunken n who bumped into him. He reached a narrow alley tucked between two glowing purple lanterns and stepped in.
There, leaning against the wall, was a man with a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke drifting lazily up toward the night sky.
The man turned his head slightly as Damien approached.
"You the Smoker?" Damien asked.
The man took one slow drag, exhaled a gray cloud, and replied with equal boredom:
"You the cigarette?"
Damien blinked. "Yeah… that's a pretty weird set of codes, isn't it?"
The man shrugged. "Kid, when you deal with shit like this every day, you get a little weird."
Damien crossed his arms. "Fair enough. So… where is she? One of those glass panels?"
The man barked out a laugh so sharp it echoed.
"Oh, kid. You're cute. Naive, but cute."
He flicked his cigarette to the side and crushed it under his boot.
"Well, doesn't matter. You're here, so co on." He jerked his head deeper into the alley. "Let show you where the real debauchery of the Red Light District is."
He started walking.
Damien followed.
...
They reached a narrow alleyway far enough from the main district that the noise faded into a dull, distant hum. Smoker stopped in front of an old wooden door, stained and reinforced with iron. He rapped his knuckles three tis.
A small tal slit opened.
"What's the password?" a voice asked — high-pitched, nasal, impatient.
Smoker rolled his eyes."Dick, DICK, DIIIICK! Now open the damn door, Slider!"
The slit snapped shut. tal clanked. The door swung open, revealing a thin, wiry man with jittery eyes and hair that looked like it was afraid of combs.
"Fuck you, Smoker!" Slider snapped. "Passwords are important, man! And stop calling Slider!"
His eyes darted to Damien, hood, mask, silent presence, and he raised an eyebrow. "This your mans?"
"Yeah," Smoker grumbled. "Now move. We've got business."
"Eh, eh!" Slider held up a hand. "Paynt, man. If one of Ishtar's boys finds out I let soone in for free, I'm screwed."
Smoker sighed violently and tossed him a bag of valis."There, dipshit. Go get your dick wet by so bitch out there. Now quit nagging, you're embarrassing yourself in front of a client."
Slider's mood flipped instantly. He clutched the valis like a child hugging candy and grinned wide enough to show every tooth.
"Pleasure doing business!" he chirped as the two passed.
Damien followed Smoker down a long staircase spiraling into the earth. The air grew colder, damper. Torches flickered against stone walls. At the bottom was another door — thicker, larger, guarded by two stone statues.
Smoker shoved it open.
Damien stepped into a massive underground theater.
Golden chandeliers. Velvet curtains. Dozens upon dozens of people, all dressed in excessive luxury shining suits, jewel-studded gowns, half-naked aristocrats wearing nothing but gold and silk. Laughter echoed, but none of it sounded innocent.
"What the fuck is all this…" Damien muttered.
Smoker chuckled, patting his shoulder."Don't get too scared. These people? They're weird as hell, but rich. Filthy rich. rchants, nobles, gods, foreigners from across the world. Every six months, Ishtar invites 'em here and gives them whatever matches their freaky, rotten desires."
He leaned in.
"And listen, kid… don't clash with any of them. Bid for your girl. Then leave."
Damien looked at him.
Smoker's expression hardened — the joking tone died.
"Loki said you get the best treatnt. So here's advice I normally wouldn't give: don't be a hero."
He continued quietly:
"Most of the people you'll see displayed tonight… have lived hell. Their lives are a ss, and it'll only get worse in the hands of these monsters. But you can't save everyone. Not alone. Not like this."
He stepped back.
"So don't try. Get your girl. Buy her, steal her, bid for her; whatever you gotta do. Then leave. and never look back"
He turned around.
"My job ends here. Good luck, kid."
Damien exhaled slowly and headed into the auditorium.
He took a seat in the middle row, hoping to blend into the mass of masks and decadence.
To his left sat a man drenched in pink — pink suit, pink gloves, pink mask, rainbow-colored hair slicked back. He slled like expensive perfu and poor decisions.
To his right sat a young amazonian woman wearing… practically nothing. A nipple stamp, tiny underwear, colorful tattoos swirling over her skin. She sat with her legs casually spread, chatting with another woman beside her — older, wearing a dress that left nothing to imagination. The older woman's hand was lazily cupping the younger one's breast as they laughed.
Damien stared straight ahead.
The theater lights dimd.
A man stepped onto the stage, caral-skinned, shirtless, wearing extravagant jewelry and makeup. One of Ishtar's prized male slaves.
His voice bood:
"Gods and Goddesses! Ladies and Gentlen!Welco… to the Bi-Annual Ishtar Auction!"
Cheers erupted. Masks tilted forward. Valis pouches jingled.
Damien clenched his fists.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Sukuna in DC!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support just because ? than check out my patreon at
"spatreon/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !
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