Chapter 1:
The Transaction
Second Dimension Rheine
On an ordinary day, the city buzzed with its usual chaos — traffic crawling, horns blaring, the kind of noise that never really stopped.
"No!" A girl screamed as a man's whip cracked through the air in a dark, suffocating room.
Her name was Rheine. But before that moment...
"What are we supposed to do about this?" A woman's voice drifted through the house, hushed and urgent, as she spoke with her husband. Neither of them were Rheine's real parents.
They argued in the living room while Rheine sat curled in the corner, invisible to them, knowing nothing of what was being decided.
"What else is there to do? Just sell the girl to the one who was asking about her yesterday." The husband shrugged it off like it was nothing.
"I suppose that makes sense... but are you sure it's fine?" The wife hesitated, though not nearly enough.
"Of course it's fine! We're broke, in case you've forgotten. What other choice do we have?" He groaned.
"Fair enough."
"This is your fault, you know!"
"Always throwing money away at the gambling table!"
"And never once winning." The wife jabbed a finger at his chest.
"Oh, like you're any better!"
"Spending everything on things you don't even need —"
"You've already got a closet full of clothes, still perfectly good ones too —"
"And you go out and buy more. At prices that make absolutely no sense!" He fired back, poking her chest now.
"Oh, please!"
"At least I get something for my money!"
"You? You don't get anything. You just come home with less." She snapped.
"At least I'm the one out there earning it!"
"And you?" He shot back.
They went on like that deep into the night. And through all of it, ten-year-old Rheine sat in her corner, watching them without a single flicker of expression on her face.
Rheine's real parents had died three years ago — lost in a fire that swallowed their home when she was just seven. With no one in the world who knew her name, this couple had taken her in. Not out of kindness. Out of convenience. She became their housekeeper, their errand girl, their beggar on street corners when the money ran dry.
And yet, because Rheine knew what gratitude felt like, she did it all without complaint.
She had lived this way until now — ten years old, never once set foot in a classroom, yet she had learned plenty. All of it, in that house.
After their brief argument, husband and wife arrived at their conclusion: Rheine would be sold.
Kring —
Kring —
Kring —
A phone buzzed from somewhere on the couch. The husband snatched it up and answered.
"Hello?" He said.
"Hello." A voice answered from the other end.
"So? Have you made your decision?" The caller asked, his breathing heavy and uneven.
The husband's hand trembled slightly. "Y-yes."
"After... thinking it over for some time..."
"I've decided to accept your offer." He managed to keep his voice steady. Barely.
"Good." The caller's voice was low, measured. Unreadable.
The wife crept up quietly and stood just behind her husband, clearing her throat pointedly.
"Right — and the payment, it's still the same as what was promised?" He asked, hand still shaking, doing his best to sound calm.
"Don't worry about that." The caller replied.
A moment later — click. The line went dead, followed immediately by the buzz of a text message. The husband opened it. An address. And below it: "Arrive at 14:00. Once the girl is safely received, the transfer will be made immediately as agreed."
Without a second thought, the husband let out a whoop of excitement. The wife threw her hands up alongside him. "Finally — the good life!" she cheered.
And Rheine sat in her corner, staring at nothing. Her gaze drifted somewhere far away, past the walls, past all of it — as if she wasn't even in the room. The couple didn't spare her a glance. To them, she might as well have already been gone.
What is this?
I'm going to leave this place?
But isn't this home now?
Mom. Dad...
Why didn't you take me with you?
Wouldn't it have been better, if we all went together?
Wouldn't it?
But then...
Why?
Why?
Why did you leave me here alone?
Do you not love me anymore?
Do you not need me?
Those thoughts moved through Rheine quietly, like water. She pulled her knees to her chest and sat there — hollow, weightless, her body too tired to hold itself up properly.
After 2 PM,
"Get in. Now." The husband snapped, forcing Rheine into a wooden crate he'd prepared.
"Move it! Don't fight us." The wife shoved her in roughly, and Rheine stumbled, hitting the floor of the crate hard.
Rheine didn't say a word. She didn't fight back. Her eyes stayed distant, fixed on something no one else could see.
The crate was sealed. The husband hauled it onto a pickup truck bed and drove off toward the agreed location.
~ ~ ~ Some time later ~ ~ ~
The truck rolled to a stop inside a sprawling, long-abandoned factory.
The husband eased the pickup slowly through the rusted entrance, coming to a halt at the center of the floor.
Then —
Bang.
Gunfire. From every direction at once.
Bullets punched through the windshield, through the side windows — and straight into the couple. Both of them slumped, gone before they could make a sound.
The gang members climbed onto the truck bed, dragged the crate down, and wrenched it open.
Inside, Rheine sat bound — ankles tied, wrists tied, tape pressed over her mouth, her face covered in wounds.
They peeled the tape off and cut the ropes, then pulled her roughly to her feet.
"W-who are you?" Rheine whispered. Her voice barely made it out.
"Hah?" One of the men grunted.
Rheine turned her head slowly toward the truck. Her eyes landed on the dark stain spreading across the ground — pooling beneath the front tires.
"Another body..." she murmured, more to herself than anyone.
"What? You've seen this kind of thing before?" One of the men asked, his voice hard and mocking.
"Yes." She answered softly, her gaze still far away, still unfocused. "I've seen it many times."
One of the men glanced back at his boss.
"So, boss — what do we do with her?" He asked.
"Well..." The leader tilted his head, then strolled over to where Rheine sat, gripping her chin roughly and tilting her face upward. "I was thinking she'd make a decent slave. And honestly?" He looked her over. "She's not bad-looking either."
Rheine turned her face away.
Smack.
He slapped her. Hard. Across the face.
She didn't react. She didn't know how to fight back — had never learned. Her expression didn't change. Her eyes didn't focus. She simply sat there, the same as always, as if the world around her was nothing more than background noise.
One of the men reared back and kicked her — crack — sending her skidding across the concrete, where she hit the ground and went still.
"Ngh—" A quiet, broken sound escaped her throat as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
The boss turned away, waving a hand at his men. "Alright, alright, let's go." He headed for the exit without looking back.
One by one, his men fell in behind him and filed out, leaving Rheine alone on the factory floor.
Her body was broken. Running was out of the question — standing was out of the question. All she could do was lie there, cheek pressed to the cold ground, in the hollow silence of that abandoned place.
"No!" A girl screamed as a man's whip cracked through the air in a dark, suffocating room.
Her name was Rheine. But before that moment...
"What are we supposed to do about this?" A woman's voice drifted through the house, hushed and urgent, as she spoke with her husband. Neither of them were Rheine's real parents.
They argued in the living room while Rheine sat curled in the corner, invisible to them, knowing nothing of what was being decided.
"What else is there to do? Just sell the girl to the one who was asking about her yesterday." The husband shrugged it off like it was nothing.
"I suppose that makes sense... but are you sure it's fine?" The wife hesitated, though not nearly enough.
"Of course it's fine! We're broke, in case you've forgotten. What other choice do we have?" He groaned.
"Fair enough."
"This is your fault, you know!"
"Always throwing money away at the gambling table!"
"And never once winning." The wife jabbed a finger at his chest.
"Oh, like you're any better!"
"Spending everything on things you don't even need —"
"You've already got a closet full of clothes, still perfectly good ones too —"
"And you go out and buy more. At prices that make absolutely no sense!" He fired back, poking her chest now.
"Oh, please!"
"At least I get something for my money!"
"You? You don't get anything. You just come home with less." She snapped.
"At least I'm the one out there earning it!"
"And you?" He shot back.
They went on like that deep into the night. And through all of it, ten-year-old Rheine sat in her corner, watching them without a single flicker of expression on her face.
Rheine's real parents had died three years ago — lost in a fire that swallowed their home when she was just seven. With no one in the world who knew her name, this couple had taken her in. Not out of kindness. Out of convenience. She became their housekeeper, their errand girl, their beggar on street corners when the money ran dry.
And yet, because Rheine knew what gratitude felt like, she did it all without complaint.
She had lived this way until now — ten years old, never once set foot in a classroom, yet she had learned plenty. All of it, in that house.
After their brief argument, husband and wife arrived at their conclusion: Rheine would be sold.
Kring —
Kring —
Kring —
A phone buzzed from somewhere on the couch. The husband snatched it up and answered.
"Hello?" He said.
"Hello." A voice answered from the other end.
"So? Have you made your decision?" The caller asked, his breathing heavy and uneven.
The husband's hand trembled slightly. "Y-yes."
"After... thinking it over for some time..."
"I've decided to accept your offer." He managed to keep his voice steady. Barely.
"Good." The caller's voice was low, measured. Unreadable.
The wife crept up quietly and stood just behind her husband, clearing her throat pointedly.
"Right — and the payment, it's still the same as what was promised?" He asked, hand still shaking, doing his best to sound calm.
"Don't worry about that." The caller replied.
A moment later — click. The line went dead, followed immediately by the buzz of a text message. The husband opened it. An address. And below it: "Arrive at 14:00. Once the girl is safely received, the transfer will be made immediately as agreed."
Without a second thought, the husband let out a whoop of excitement. The wife threw her hands up alongside him. "Finally — the good life!" she cheered.
And Rheine sat in her corner, staring at nothing. Her gaze drifted somewhere far away, past the walls, past all of it — as if she wasn't even in the room. The couple didn't spare her a glance. To them, she might as well have already been gone.
What is this?
I'm going to leave this place?
But isn't this home now?
Mom. Dad...
Why didn't you take me with you?
Wouldn't it have been better, if we all went together?
Wouldn't it?
But then...
Why?
Why?
Why did you leave me here alone?
Do you not love me anymore?
Do you not need me?
Those thoughts moved through Rheine quietly, like water. She pulled her knees to her chest and sat there — hollow, weightless, her body too tired to hold itself up properly.
After 2 PM,
"Get in. Now." The husband snapped, forcing Rheine into a wooden crate he'd prepared.
"Move it! Don't fight us." The wife shoved her in roughly, and Rheine stumbled, hitting the floor of the crate hard.
Rheine didn't say a word. She didn't fight back. Her eyes stayed distant, fixed on something no one else could see.
The crate was sealed. The husband hauled it onto a pickup truck bed and drove off toward the agreed location.
~ ~ ~ Some time later ~ ~ ~
The truck rolled to a stop inside a sprawling, long-abandoned factory.
The husband eased the pickup slowly through the rusted entrance, coming to a halt at the center of the floor.
Then —
Bang.
Gunfire. From every direction at once.
Bullets punched through the windshield, through the side windows — and straight into the couple. Both of them slumped, gone before they could make a sound.
The gang members climbed onto the truck bed, dragged the crate down, and wrenched it open.
Inside, Rheine sat bound — ankles tied, wrists tied, tape pressed over her mouth, her face covered in wounds.
They peeled the tape off and cut the ropes, then pulled her roughly to her feet.
"W-who are you?" Rheine whispered. Her voice barely made it out.
"Hah?" One of the men grunted.
Rheine turned her head slowly toward the truck. Her eyes landed on the dark stain spreading across the ground — pooling beneath the front tires.
"Another body..." she murmured, more to herself than anyone.
"What? You've seen this kind of thing before?" One of the men asked, his voice hard and mocking.
"Yes." She answered softly, her gaze still far away, still unfocused. "I've seen it many times."
One of the men glanced back at his boss.
"So, boss — what do we do with her?" He asked.
"Well..." The leader tilted his head, then strolled over to where Rheine sat, gripping her chin roughly and tilting her face upward. "I was thinking she'd make a decent slave. And honestly?" He looked her over. "She's not bad-looking either."
Rheine turned her face away.
Smack.
He slapped her. Hard. Across the face.
She didn't react. She didn't know how to fight back — had never learned. Her expression didn't change. Her eyes didn't focus. She simply sat there, the same as always, as if the world around her was nothing more than background noise.
One of the men reared back and kicked her — crack — sending her skidding across the concrete, where she hit the ground and went still.
"Ngh—" A quiet, broken sound escaped her throat as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
The boss turned away, waving a hand at his men. "Alright, alright, let's go." He headed for the exit without looking back.
One by one, his men fell in behind him and filed out, leaving Rheine alone on the factory floor.
Her body was broken. Running was out of the question — standing was out of the question. All she could do was lie there, cheek pressed to the cold ground, in the hollow silence of that abandoned place.
Please sign in to leave a comment.