Part 1 Act 1

Chapter 1

"I want that one!" A young Misaki exclaimed while pointing to a young, pale boy who was standing in front of him. The fair-skinned boy stood naked on top of a box, his hands were tied in front of him, and he was staring blankly ahead, immune to everything around him.

"We're not here for you," Misaki's brother said dismissively. Misaki frowned at his brother's tone and stuck his bottom lip out.

"But it's my birthdaaay!" He cried.

"It is not. It was your birthday a couple of days ago."

Misaki turned to his brother, "So it's my birthday week then!" He exclaimed, grinning proudly. The boy looked on, ignoring the two of them. Misaki turned back to the young boy with fascination and curiosity. There was something about the way his pale skin looked, along with his dirty mangled hair that still somehow looked soft, and the vacant expression on his face that drew Misaki's attention to him.

He'd been around other kids his age before, and even with the obvious lack of hygiene from the way his dirty hair matted to his forehead and the way his skin was muddied in some places, there was still something polished and refined about him. He seemed older, and maybe he was, but not by much.

His brother rolled his eyes and walked off in the opposite direction, to do what it was they came here for. He looked among the rows where other individuals stood, the same as the boy, all of them with vacant expressions, their hands bound in front of them.

Misaki stayed where he was, standing in front of the boy, while his brother wandered off. He clasped his hands together behind his back and bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. Misaki was still too young to understand the concept of what the boy was to those who had enough money to own him, along with the repercussions that came with what it was that could also be done to him. He didn't know why the boy had to be standing the way he was, his hands bound and his body on display like an animal at the farm who was being judged for a prize ribbon.

To Misaki, out of all of the other people in the room, he had finally found someone his age who could hopefully entertain him for the next few minutes while his brother was busy. Doing what he didn't really know, or care. He just knew that they showed up in some places, and the next few days he would recognize the individuals from those places wandering around the castle grounds.

"Hello," He said to the young boy, staring at his face and itching to touch his hair to see if it felt soft or greasy.

It was hard to tell.

The boy ignored him.

Still, Misaki pursued in his attempt to get the boy to talk. (What else was he going to do?)

"What's your name?" He tried again and was met with a beat of silence, before the boy finally looked at him, a small hint of surprise on his face. For a fleeting moment Misaki wondered if the boy had ever been asked his name before, but then realized how ridiculous that sounded. "My name is Misaki, and that's my older brother, Takahiro. He's the king now," He dropped his voice to a whisper, "but don't tell anyone, 'kay? He wants to keep it a secret," Misaki put a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise at that. The boy looked around quickly as if searching for where Takahiro had gone but then went back to ignoring him and staring vacantly ahead. Misaki noticed the boy clenching his fists tightly, and a glimmer of anger flickered in the boy's eyes, but only for a moment.

Confused at the boy's reaction, Misaki tilted his head to the side and began to ask, "Do-

"Misaki!" His brother cut him off before he could say whatever it was he was about to say. "We're all set here, let's go."

"But brooootherrrr," Misaki whined. His brother sighed and said something to the lady he had been talking to. He walked over to the boy and started scrutinizing him.

"Turn around." He ordered sternly.

The boy glared.

Misaki looked between the two, still unsure of what was happening. His brother waited. There was a beat.

Finally, the boy sighed, tightened his jaw, and, looking away, did as he was told.

Misaki's eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight of the boy's back.

Jagged scars stretched along in crisscross patterns. They were of various sizes and appeared to cover almost every inch of the boy's small back. There were three long, bright jagged scars that stood out in the middle of his back, crisscrossing each other. They seemed to glow in comparison to the dozens of other, smaller scars that trailed down the sides of his body, all of them splitting off in different directions, vertical, diagonal, horizontal, some overlapped each other while others had made their own separate space on the boy's skin.

"See, Misaki. He's basically useless. Look at all those scars. Who knows how many other times he's been whipped before a scar was even made! Can't have a slave running around causing trouble for everyone. Pick another one, consider it a belated birthday present." Misaki stared in shock at the boy's back. He'd never seen scars like that before on anyone. Slave. The word grated in his mind, and he flinched from it but wasn't sure why. He'd known of... servants, as he preferred to call them, who were like this boy who stood before him. They'd worked around the palace, they did their jobs well; always appearing content around him. He'd heard rumors of the servants they had around the palace getting whipped, but they were usually sent off to someplace else afterward and never seen again. He had been told they had gone to someplace better and that they would be happier there. Were they? He shook his head and his fleeting thought questioning what he had been told quickly disappeared.

What happened to you? He thought instead.

"What? No!" Misaki exclaimed, turning to his brother, "Besides he's young like me! No one else is young…" he trailed off, muttering to himself mostly, unsure of how to win this argument. His curiosity about the boy had quickly turned to pity. He wanted to help the boy avoid being hurt again, if possible. He was amazed the boy could even be standing at all.

His brother checked his watch impatiently and sighed, "Fine. Whatever. But he's your responsibility if anything happens." He stalked off to talk to the lady again. Misaki turned to the boy once more.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Misaki asked, but the boy continued to ignore him as he continued to stand with his back to him, showing off his scars. Misaki was somewhat mesmerized by them. He was torn between wanting to keep staring at them, memorizing each one and learning their story of how they came to be, or if he wanted to look away and ignore the fact that they existed at all completely.

Finally, Misaki swallowed and looked away.

He didn't think he wanted to see scars like that again any time soon if he could help it. Instead, Misaki diverted his attention to his brother on the other side of the store. Misaki noticed the glint of gold that passed between his brother and the lady but thought nothing of it.