Chapter Text
❝I started to spend time with the future achievers employed by the owner of my favorite restaurant.❞
Fyodor doesn't think he'd made a bad choice when he didn't try to run away from his captors.
As a hybrid, they're constantly in the lower place of society. Of course, they're, say, equal to humans on the surface, but more to it is that some laws do not cover hybrids' rights, which leads to the situation in hand.
Fyodor sits in the cage below a bright top light in a huge classy hall. Masked 'customers' walk around the hall and inspect all the goods the auction offers. Some of them come to Fyodor's cage, but none seem to like him much after seeing his description card, or rather, his condition after seeing up close.
Fyodor continues to curl up with a bad posture in the small cage, observing people walking by boredly as hiding their face is not allowed during this showcase.
"Hey."
At the sound, Fyodor looks up and sees a tall and presumably young male wearing a Colombina of black with gold details and two golden horns poking out from the mess of brown hair. From what Fyodor can see, the man wears a shirt, a tie, a vest, and a pair of gloves, with a coat hanging from the man's shoulders. All of the garments are black, except the shirt which is a shade similar to cobalt, which, makes the white bandages peeking out from under the collar of the shirt stick out more for the contrast it brings.
The man smiled a bit at successfully getting Fyodor's attention.
"I have a quiz for you." He continued in Japanese, and didn't wait for Fyodor to say anything. "A short man was found dead in a train roomette around an hour after his death, discovered by the train staff knocking through each roomette to provide food with the dining car. The man holds a gun in his dominant hand and there's a burn mark on his temple. What do you think? Is it a suicide? And why?"
Fyodor stared at the man a bit, before opening his mouth. It's such an easy quiz.
"It's a murder. The gun had a silencer attached when it was shot, as no one found it weird when the gunshot sounded, which means the gunshot easily blended into the noises of the train. And now the silencer is gone, meaning someone had taken the silencer away. Moreover, aiming at his own temple with a gun that has a silencer on would be rather difficult."
The man grinned.
"Perfect."
The man straightens himself from his slightly bent posture, before walking away.
Fyodor sighed a bit and briefly wondered if this man would treat him nicely.
The auction of himself goes just like Fyodor had expected: only a few had bid for him, and the man with that black gold horned Colombina got him with a low price - probably about the price of a piece of jewelry (he wasn't really listening when the other few items were bid.)
Of course, Fyodor thinks. He's not a perfect item. He has medical conditions that's bad enough to affect his looks, which make him a good with huge flaws, and that means this man who bought him is a weirdo.
Yes, a complete weirdo. Fyodor becomes very sure of this as the man lifts his body into his arms and walks out of the auction building, going straight to the parking lot.
Fyodor dislikes the touch, but he supposes it's better not to say something that'd likely anger the man right off the bat.
The man opened the door to the back seat of a black car that looked very classy and placed Fyodor in.
"Move a bit." The man murmured, to which Fyodor complied and moved to the other seat of the backseat.
The man sits into the car as well, closing the door and locking it before ordering the driver to drive.
A little huff was sounded beside him.
"Ah, this mask is annoying..." The man said, with his mask now on his palm. He seemed to have noticed that his words had caught Fyodor's attention, as he smiled a bit. "Never seen someone as handsome as me?"
"..." Fyodor deadpanned. "It's so dark I can barely distinguish your hair and your face."
"Pfff-" The man chuckled softly. "Oh, it seems like I wasted a chance to introduce my perfect face to you."
He said that, but he didn't tell the driver to switch on the lights.
"You haven't fastened the seat belt." The man reminds him with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Fyodor fastened the seat belt.
The entire car ride to their destination is quiet. They soon arrived, but not quite at somewhere he expected.
The place they arrived before is a group of tall buildings that almost hide in the darkness of the night, only illuminated by the moonlight reflecting against the walls of glass. Fyodor knows about them, it's the Port Mafia's buildings.
Fyodor stared, almost curiously, at the buildings through the car window, before turning back at the man. He watches as the man opens the door and offers a hand to him.
Fyodor thinks for about a second before ignoring the hand and getting out of the car, which the man didn't force him to hold his hand and instead took it back, simply waiting for Fyodor by the door. Fyodor gets out of the car, stands there, and takes a breath. It's cold, dead in the night, with the breeze of fall and uncertainty is all jumbled in his brain.
He softly sighed out his breath before the man started to guide him into one of the black buildings with a hand on the small of his back.
Fyodor feels annoyed at the touch.
"...can you stop touching me?"
The man seems a bit surprised, yet amused.
"No."
The man's hand moved to his waist and made a squeeze.
Urgh.
Fyodor let out an annoyed sigh and continued the walk with the man.
The man leads him into an elevator, and soon they arrive on a floor with black walls and a clean tile floor, with indirect lighting illuminating the hallways. It looks lifeless and still, Fyodor thinks as he gets ushered into one of the rooms.
The interior of the room is classy, with white, gray, and deep red as the main colors. Even with some red, it still feels lifeless like the hallway of this floor. There is some minimal medical equipment beside the examination table by the wall, while in the almost center of the room is a desk with a monitor, a keyboard, and a mouse, with a small printer placed also on the desk. A water dispenser is at the corner of the room, and the other corner of the room has a door to somewhere else. It’s someone’s office.
"Sit here." The man said softly, which Fyodor did not have a reason not to listen. The man sits on the chair beside him right after Fyodor takes his seat.
They stayed silent for a while, with Fyodor very aware of the gaze from his side.
"You're not curious about my looks?"
The man asked with amusement but also sounding a bit whiny. His tone pricked at Fyodor's mind.
"Not curious enough."
Fyodor answered calmly, his eyes still staring boredly at the desk.
The man huffed a bit, "Look at me."
Fyodor sighed softly, turning to look at the man.
The man has a skin tone a bit darker than him, a pair of dark eyes the same color as his hair, and a small pout on his lips, which slowly turns into a grin.
Before he said anything, though, Fyodor spoke.
"I dislike the way you order me."
"And I don't find anything wrong with ordering you," the man answered swiftly, using his index finger to lightly touch the underside of Fyodor's chin. "I'm your owner, remember, pet."
Fyodor's brows twitched a bit at... everything this man just did. His words, his touch, every bit of this man seem to annoy him.
"Aw, don't look at me like that~," The man said, chuckling softly. "I'm your owner and master, it's a fact you need to accept."
Fyodor didn't answer.
A few knocks sounded from the door, which the man answered with a "Come in."
The door opens, revealing a person in a white coat. The person pulls an IV stand with a full pack of IV fluid with him as he walks slowly into the room and then takes his seat at the desk.
"Sorry for being late, Boss." The person in a white coat said. His voice sounds calm, perhaps even a bit relaxed, but it's plain nervousness in Fyodor's ears.
"Do a check-up on him." The mafia boss suddenly sounds very cold. Most certainly a façade for his subordinates, Fyodor thinks.
Everything went smoothly; two syringes of blood were drawn from Fyodor to do the blood test. Fyodor feels weakened and dizzy after his blood was drawn, which he thinks is reasonable.
Fyodor felt the mafia boss' hand resting on the top of the backrest behind him.
The doctor grabbed a cup of water from the water dispenser and offered it to Fyodor by placing it on the near edge of the desk, which Fyodor accepted and had a few sips, watering down his blood.
"The blood test will be done within three days." The doctor said calmly before he took the A5-sized paper from the printer and handed it to the mafia boss with both hands, which the mafia boss received with one. "We'll be reporting to you once the detailed report is ready, Boss."
"Very well," The mafia boss said before standing up and making a soft pat on Fyodor's back, which Fyodor understood and stood up as well.
They left the doctor's office without another word.
After a short while in the elevator, which Fyodor could feel that they were going up, they arrived at a dark area.
The man, again, placed his hand on the small of Fyodor's back and guided him towards one of the sets of double doors.
Fyodor felt annoyed but didn't comment on it.
As they got closer to the set of doors, Fyodor noticed that there were setups for identification, like the iris recognition, which the man identified himself with first, for example.
The double door soon opens after going through a few identification, and the man ushered Fyodor in, to face another door.
Door again?... Fyodor thinks briefly as the man pulls out a key card and sticks it to the sensor on top of the doorknob.
After a click, the man twisted the doorknob, opening the door to a foyer. The man again used a hand to guide Fyodor in and quickly closed the door.
Fyodor heard a sigh after the door closed.
"Troublesome design..." Mumbled the man. At Fyodor's silence, the man leaned closer and teased a bit. "No comment?"
Fyodor's ear twitched once. He silently stared at the man.
The man looked at his ear on top of his head for a brief moment, before shifting his gaze back at Fyodor's eyes.
"C'mon, give some comments. Interactions between individuals are always filled with unnecessity, and now I want this boring, mundane comment from you."
He sounded almost lonely, Fyodor thinks, as he opened his mouth.
"Those redundant identifications are needed, considering you're the boss of the mafia." He said, plainly and calmly.
The man's eyes smiled. "You're right, but I still think it's annoying. You see, how many are there on the ground floor, guarding the elevators? I don't think intruders would be able to get in."
"Intruders are not the only ones who'd aim for your life," Fyodor said, and the man chuckled softly.
The man hummed a bit then, "Maybe we should do a minesweeping in the near future, yeah?" The man said cheerfully, taking off his coat.
Fyodor didn't answer, taking off his shoes in the foyer.
The man hummed a bit as he opened the cabinet and took out a pair of slippers, still in its package. He unpacked the thing and dropped it on the floor. "Here, wear this."
Fyodor frowned a bit, but still stuck his feet into the slippers.
The man wears his and starts to walk further into the room, before he turns back at Fyodor and silently stares, still with a hint of a smile on his face.
Fyodor follows the man into the place.
The place is huge; a necessarily big television considering the distance between it and the couch area, a group of couches surrounding a coffee table on a giant carpet, indirect lighting and conditioned air from the faux ceiling, a clean open kitchen and island with stools around it... it looks almost normal, just like a larger version of a more luxurious kind of housing.
The place is rather clean, or say, not messy. Fyodor takes another look, and decides it's because there's nothing that could get messy to begin with. It's empty, perhaps even the sample setups in the furniture shops would be more animated than whatever this is.
One thing noticeable is that there is a blanket on the couches with a corner of it draped on the carpet, which makes the couch area look more lively.
The man picked up the angle of the blanket that was draped on the floor, pushed the blanket aside, and took a seat there. He patted the soft fabric of a seat beside him.
Fyodor thinks a bit, before opening his mouth.
"I don't want to sit near you."
The man pouted. "Ah, ah... don't be like that..."
The man's gaze followed him as Fyodor ignored him and took the seat on the adjacent corner of the man's seat. There's at least a meter between them.
The man keeps pouting for a moment, before sighing as he realizes that his whatever emotions and expressions don't affect Fyodor's decisions. At all, probably.
"It's your first day with me so I'd be generous, but don't try to defy me next time." The man said with a finger waving around, like the way a mother would do when warning a child.
Fyodor stayed quiet.
"Answer?" Said the man, sounding a bit cold.
Fyodor frowns, "...understood." He answered begrudgingly.
"Great." The man's voice turns cheerful again. "Now, let me introduce myself."
Fyodor stared into the man's eyes as the man said his next words.
"I'm Dazai, Dazai Osamu. My pleasure to have you in my care."