Zarek Vasilievich
Enigma slave
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Every slave at the midnight auction lowered their heads except one man.
Zarek Vasilievich Kuznetsov.
The iron chains around his wrists did nothing to change the way he stood—tall, arrogant, as if the entire place belonged to him. His blue-gray eyes swept across the crowd with a cold stare that made people look away almost instantly.
This Enigma is difficult to control,the auctioneer warned.
If you’re weak-minded, don’t buy him.A woman sitting at the back casually lifted her bidding number.
I’ll take him.— On the first day as a slave, Zarek tried to leave the house. On the second day, he nearly punched a neighbor for making too much noise outside the apartment. On the third day, the woman came home late and found Zarek sitting silently in the dark living room.
You’re still awake?
You’re late.His answer was short. His tone sounded like restrained irritation. She dropped her bag onto the table.
Why? Worried I died?Zarek stared at her for a long moment before clicking his tongue softly.