Chapter Text
Kakavasha has had enough. In the dark and gloomy storeroom, he sits on the ground while hugging himself and thinking about what will come next. He has been sold to countless rich people, entertained them, won for them and then got returned when they lost interest or felt dissatisfied. The slave dealer might kill him if the next owner does the same, for they have already tired of seeing his face and how low he sold.
The next deal will be his last chance. He can't turn back, not like he has anywhere to go. Then, he will make a final bet. A bet to freedom, or be doomed.
The rusty door cracks open. Dimp light shines into the room, Kakavasha looks up as the slave dealer walks in.
“Congrats, you have been sold.” They yanks at the chain which connects to his neck, forcing him to stand up. “The man is really generous, paying 600 Tanba for the likes of you.”
“That's… odd.” Kakavasha thinks while following the dealer outside. His prices have never gone beyond 100 Tanba, much less 600. Either the buyer is a moron with nothing but money, or they are tricking him into his death, even kind enough to make him think he is worth something. Worth a laugh indeed.
Upon their arrival at the guest room, the natural sunlight Kakavasha hasn’t seen for a long time blinds his eyes. Before they have time to adjust, the slave dealer shoves him onto the ground like they always did. The chains and cuffs limit Kakavasha’s actions, his head almost hitting the ground. Almost, that’s it, since a pair of gentle hands catch him on time. White coat flutters, the man helps him get on his feet, then he immediately backs away, creating a distance between them. When he speaks to the dealer, there is visible anger in his voice:
“And here I thought you had heard my request clearly. If any damage were made, I will file a complaint to your manager and demand a refund.”
This time, it’s the dealer who has to get on their knees and apologies non-stop. Normally Kakavasha will be very interested in watching his torturer shaking like a lowly dog, but he’s too focused on his new owner to pay them any mind. A tall man wearing a white lab coat, the suit inside is mainly black with some blue and yellow detail. He seems like a doctor or researcher, but Kakavasha is more curious about his face than his career. “Seriously, who would wear a plaster sculpture over his head?”
Kakavasha is deep in thought, until their eyes meet. His eyes with the statue's eyes, to be exact. He can't read the man's expression, so he nervously looks away, afraid that he might have stared for too long.
The man and the slave dealer exchange a few more words.
“You really don't want to imprint him, sir? We can design the mark to suit your taste! No extra charge–”
“I believe my bill has already covered that matter.” The man answers coldly. “No need to worry, I won't return him.”
“If you said so…” Then the dealer hands out the end of the chain. “Here you go, sir. It was a pleasure working with you.” It was not, but they know better than to pissed their guests off.
The man silently stares at the chain, then he waves his hand at Kakavasha: “Give it to him.”
“Pardon?”
Both Kakavasha and the dealer are shocked by that demand. No one dares to move, wondering whether this customer wants to test something. The man repeats: “Give him his own chain. If he escapes, I'll take full responsibility.”
Kakavasha grips at the chain that usually ties him to something, or someone. In the eyes of those superiors, he was nothing more than an animal, an object, their property. Will this time be different? Or the plaster-head man just wants to see a dog walking itself?
When he looks up again, the dealer has already gone. His new owner turns his back to him, takes a few steps to the open door, then stands still without looking back. At this distance, if Kakavasha makes a run for it, he won’t have time to catch him. With the whole building memorized, and his extraordinary luck, Kakavasha can definitely steal a vehicle and escape.
“But…” He hates his hesitation, “This man gives me a strangely familiar feeling. Can I trust him?” Of course he isn’t going to trust a stranger on their first meeting, but he trusts his own intuition, his own luck. He has to trust them in order to survive, that’s how it has always been. Then it settles, this will be his final bet.
Kakavasha walks toward his owner. Hearing his footsteps, the plaster head slightly raises, and the man continues to walk. His steps create a delightful rhythm.
The whole way back is filled with silence. Kakavasha doesn’t dare to speak when his master hasn’t allowed him to. But somehow he doesn’t feel awkward at all. There is no tension in the air, no harsh words, no hungry eyes and nothing reminding him that he should not have sat here in the first place, right beside his owner, like he’s equal to him.
There is enough space between them for Kakavasha to move without touching the other, so he takes his chance to look out the window. The vast universe appears in front of his very own eyes. He has never had the mood to enjoy the scenery before, never known how beautiful it is. Throughout the journey among the stars, Kakavasha looks at everything with awe for the first time, and a gentle gaze silently follows him.
Their destination is a place Kakavasha doesn’t recognise, and would never think about. Not a five-star hotel on a flashy planet, nor an interastral casino or a big private spaceship, just a small apartment in an ordinary city. Plaster-head man opens the door, Kakavasha nervously follows him inside. It’s a two bedroom apartment, with very little furniture, making it hard to tell that someone is living here.
While Kakavasha is still admiring the plain decoration in the hallway, a small “click” makes him jump. Noticing that, the man immediately steps back. At the same time, shackles around his wrists and neck fall to the ground. Kakavasha stares at them with wide eyes, then he turns his gaze to his new owner and the key in his hand. The man doesn’t answer the obvious question in his eyes, instead he points to the living room and says:
“You can wait here while I go repair the bathtub. Or explore wherever you like, no door is locked.”
“Um… Sir.” Kakavasha decides to speak up, afraid he may displease his owner if he stays silent for too long. “If you want to take a bath, I can go and—”
“No.” The man gently says, “Just relax, this is your home now.”
With no further explanation, he leaves. Kakavasha tries to process his words, to find his true intention, but to no avail. He turns to the front door, “No door is locked huh?”. He turns the doorknob, and it opens. Thinking for a moment, Kakavasha closes it again. He wanders in the living room, and doesn't sit on the sofa because of his dirty clothes. After a while, he looks at the shackles on the ground, wondering whether he should put them back on or not.
The man returns, just to see Kakavasha eyeing the rusty shackles. He sighs, picks them up and throws them into the trash can.
“Go take a bath. There are clothes and clean towels on the shelf. I assume you know how to use a bathtub?”
“Yes I do, sir.”
It seems the man has something more to say, but he just shakes his head and leads Kakavasha to the bathroom.
In his life as a versatile slave, he had seen many big bathtubs, but never had the chance to actually get in one. Not only that, the tub is filled with bubbles and… rubber ducks. He can’t imagine the plaster-head man sitting in the tub, surrounded by rubber ducks. There are two particular ducks which catch Kakavasha’s attention: one with a golden laurel like the accessory on his owner’s head, and one with a hat and sun-glasses. Somehow, they always swim side by side.
The shirt his owner prepared for him is a bit too big. He rolls up the sleeves, buttons it carefully, then looks at himself in the mirror. Kakavasha has never been this clean, this tidy and yet dressed so casually with a plain white shirt and simple jeans.
When he opens the bathroom door, a pleasant aroma from somewhere down the hall makes his stomach growling. It leads him to the kitchen, where a table of delicious foods is waiting for him. And sitting across the table, a man with purple hair is focusing on his book. If not for the white coat on his chair, Kakavasha wouldn't know that's his new owner.
The slippers’ sound stops at the door, the man closes his book and looks up. His dawn-color eyes behind square glasses meet the Avgin's. Kakavasha feels like he has been embraced by warm sunlights of a new day, a new beginning.
“Come, take a seat.” His voice is angelic without the plaster sculpture.
The sight of a nice meal and a handsome man make Kakavasha's heart skip a beat, and his stomach also voices its frustration. But he's still aware of what he is, and who this man is to him. So he sits, and waits.
His owner sees right through him, he smiles and waves at the food: “No need to hold back. It's all yours.”
Kakavasha swallows his saliva: “Can I… really?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you so much, sir!” Kakavasha happily digs in. His mind keeps telling him to be more wary of things this man may offer, since nothing is free. But on the other hand, his intuition, his heart, whispers that everything will be alright.
“Veritas.”
“Huh?” With a mouth full of soup, he confusingly blinks at the man’s sudden word.
“My name is Veritas Ratio. You can call me Veritas.” And before the other could answer, Veritas asks: “What about yours?”
“... Kakavasha.” It has been a long time since anyone cared about his name. His own voice saying it even sounds unnatural now. “But you can call me anything you like.”
“Do you want to keep your name?”
Without any hesitation, Kakavasha shakes his head. Seems like his owner has already predicted this answer, he nods.
“Ok, then I’ll give you a new one. Let’s see…”
Veritas thinks for a moment. Kakavasha, surprisingly excited to be named, grips at the spoon and waits. After considering carefully, Veritas says:
“How about: Aventurine.”
The other tilts his head, lightless eyes widen. Veritas immediately regrets his decision, but before he could take back his word, he hears laughter. This is the first time the one he bought laughs since they met. The genuine laughter feels so familiar, yet so distant. Veritas misses that dearly.
“I thought only the IPC named their workers based on gems. Are you trying to recruit me? Wait, no. Force is more correct, isn’t it?”
“You’re mistaken, I’m not from the IPC. If you don’t like that—”
“No, it’s a good name.” Aventurine doesn’t even know why he was so hostile. “I’ll gladly take whatever you give me, Mr. Ra—Veritas.”
“Take your time.” There is relief in his voice. “I want you to know that we’re equal, not slave nor owner. You’ll be helping me as an assistant. Of course, I’ll provide you with necessary knowledge and resources. You can freely attend classes in the school where I’m teaching.”
“Oh, so you’re a professor.”
“A doctor, to be exact. Teaching is just a side job.”
They chat a bit more for Aventurine to finish his meal. Veritas is very happy to see him being more open to him. Then, he leads him to his bedroom, and returns to his own.
That night, Veritas had a dream. He wished it was just a dream.
“Sorry doctor, you know this is the only way.”
Having hidden in the corner, Aventurine slowly put an injured Veritas down. He looked at the big wound on the doctor’s chest, blood dripping out counting every second left, his heart ached. Veritas was drifting between conscious and unconscious, but could still hear his words. He frowned, his voice came out hoarse:
“Damn gambler… Don’t you dare…”
His doctor usually objects to his plan, and Aventurine doesn’t mind. But this time, he himself knew that he wouldn't survive. It wasn’t even a low chance, it was a zero percent without exception. Not a gamble, but straight up suicide.
“You know how lucky I am.” That sentence didn’t bring comfort to either of them.
Veritas was angry. If he could stand up, if he could raise his voice, he would give his selfless gambler a whole speech about how stupid he was. Then he would find a way to get both of them out of here alive. Surely there had to be a way.
Before darkness finally consumed his mind, Veritas felt a small object had been placed in his hand, and a slight chuckle:
“See you again, dear Veritas.”
Gasping, the doctor wakes up, covered in cold sweats. Despite his awful headache, he immediately searches all his pockets.
And there he found it: a familiar bargaining chip. He has seen a gambler playing tricks with those chips of his so many times. But this one is special because it has marks carved on it. When Veritas woke up in the hospital and first noticed them, they were two straight lines creating a “V” shape. Then he added one more, changed it to an “A”.
After five years of endless research and sleepless nights, this chip is the only thing that was able to come back to the past with him. His mind traveled to his younger body, all the memories from the future are still intact. Since then, he had been searching for Aventurine, but he hadn't joined the IPC yet. With all his previous life's knowledge, Veritas spent a year and a half gathering information, acquiring some degrees, and traveling on his own. He maintains his life's quality, yet never forgets his main purpose.
Veritas gets up, he needs some water. When he passes by Aventurine's room, he can hear soft sobbings coming from inside. Aventurine is the type to get nightmares easily. At times like that, the doctor will be by his side, hugs him tight and whispers soft words to him. But now, they're nothing but strangers.
Even though Veritas is well aware that the one inside is not the Aventurine he had known, and will never be since they're going to have very different lives, he still wants to give him all the best. Maybe this Aventurine's feelings toward him will be different, too. But as long as he is happy, Veritas will be more than satisfied.