I look around. There’s nothing but Oni around me. Different colors. Deep crimson, pale yellow, dull gray. A lot. Most of them in shirts dirtied countless times, and pants with holes for bottoms. A quick scan of their faces tell me everything I know.

  Some of them look away, others are stiff, as if they feel like they are one being punished. Regardless, they all had one clear sign among them.

  They don’t know how this is going to end…and they already don’t like it.

  The one who spoke, deep, gruffy voice. He was on top of a horse. Majestic may I add. White, almost gleamed in colors of silver. Point was he was big, and I’m surprised that the horse was able to keep him up.

  He took once glance at me, suspecting, analyzing like everyone else does. His brow tenses, I can sense the next statement that would come from his mouth.

  “Hey. You ‘posed to be ‘round here?”

  Accusatory. His eyes tell me something. As if I’m not supposed to be here. Thing is…I kinda am.

  I slowly nod my head, choosing my next words wisely to not come off as hostile.

  “Stationed here. New…” I pause for a second, almost forgetting my role in the grand scheme of things.

  Then, it hits my tongue.

  “…ranchmaster.” The word catches slightly in my throat, I don’t like using that title.

  Especially when I know what it really means. But I don’t have a distinct choice here. This could be bad not only for them, but for me as well.

  I also have no idea what the hell I’m doing.

  He looks at me, another long gaze. His eye squints, and I don’t say anything. But, in another moment, the tension eases between the two of us.

  His eyes flash with a brief moment of shock before dropping to my chest, lingering there for a second too long. Then, just like that, it’s gone.

  He adjusts the hat he was wearing, reminiscent of a cowboy. Coughs lightly and continues.

  “…pardon me. Where’s my manners.” He says softly, as if wanting to erase his previous statement prior. I can feel the tension lift off, a sudden darkening atmosphere fade away.

  This is the second time someone has done that.

  The long stare. The sizing-up. The moment of silent scrutiny before something shifts. Every time, without fail, I see it—the exact second their hostility just… disappears.

  What’s up with that?

  It must be the Golden Insignia…but something tells me it’s more than that.

  “You the new ranchmaster around these parts?” He asks, his gaze lingering to the young red girl, then right back to me.

  I nod. “Yeah. You must be…” My words trail.

  Blank.

  Do I know this guy?

  He pops a smile—a nice one, polite enough. But there’s something off about it. Too easy. Too smooth. It’s the kind of smile that knows more than it lets on.

  “I’m Flugel around these parts.”

  "Lucien," I return the gesture, locking his name in my mind. Flugel. Weird name. But then again, I haven’t exactly gotten the hang of what’s normal around here. Hell, did I even get the first guy’s name when I got here?

  I scratch my brain amidst our conversation, and Flugel makes the next move, adjusting his belt buckle.

  “I’m the ranchmaster over the mining quadrant next-door to your’s,” He informs me.

  Mining quadrant next door? That means there’s at least three of these ranch houses—one for me, one for Flugel, and one for whoever oversees the third. What that quadrant is? No clue yet, but I’ve got six months to figure it out.

  “It was hard trying to maintain two quadrants at a time, so now I can breathe easy knowing that this one will be taken care of.” He continues.

  His eyes fall on the red oni girl again. A slow, deliberate look. A warning.

  I don’t need to be a mind reader to know where this is going. I can’t imagine what Flugel could do to her.

  “As for her…” He trails off. Time’s ticking. I can practically see it. The nature of his desires expressed on his face. Leaving me with the ultimate decision, it’s clear that if I don’t do anything she’s going to get punished.

  Heavily.

  Quickly, before he could even as so much formulate another thought. I part my lips.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “No worries. Leave it to me.”

  It throws him off. His mouth slightly opens, to protest, but he catches himself. The same way where you would catch yourself talking back to a parent, or a smart-ass comment to your boss.

  I assumed we were equals here, that I was equals with anyone and everyone here. But the more I find out, the more I realize that this Golden Insignia alone has gave me more honor and respect than anything else.

  Is that good or bad? It’s subjective, but as long as it gets me my own survival, that’s what matters.

  Back to the matters at hand, I look at the oni girl. She doesn’t look back. Hands clenched into each other. Shamed. The other Oni’s look around. But something’s off.

  The tension is still there.

  None of them is relieved, and to be fair, I don’t expect them to. The punishment was shifted from Flugel to mine, and practically no one knows what I could do to her.

  It’s like holding your breath underwater only to switch to a air tank with barely any air in it. It doesn’t do much to ease your concerns.

  It doesn’t make it any better.

  Flugel looks at me still, he’s not entirely convinced—I can see that much. For whatever reason, it seemed he was looking forward to her punishment, greatly.

  His face twists, something between amusement and hunger. He leans forward in his saddle, waiting, eager. He wants to see it. He expects to see it.

  “Alright then, show me what you got.” He comments, and my eyes slightly widen. No way. He wants me to do something right here? Right now?

  I need to think fast. His face, an uncomfortable sense. The gradual joy showing through him, as if he was about to watch his favorite part of a movie he’s seen time and time again.

  I look around, and the Oni’s, they are still here.

  Great.

  I clear my throat before extended both of my arms, “Oh my, I didn’t realize I’d be performing for such a crowd. With so many eyes on me, does anyone care to join?”

  My delivery is perfect, and my speech? Mocking. Had to change up my word selection just a tad bit to show that I’m not here to play around. Not at the slightest. If these Oni’s can even get a sense of me trying to place nice, my cover is blown.

  It goes against everything I grew up on, but I don’t have a choice.

  It doesn’t take long before I hear the shuffling of feet, and the Oni’s going back. The Red one watches as they do, and maybe she feels some regret, some pain.

  If the Oni’s were a proper community, then I would assume they wouldn’t mind. There’s power in the people, and the people will give birth to revolution. If they thought of that, they could easily overpower Flugel and I.

  Which means…that there’s something off here. At one point in time, surely one of them would’ve speculated it, right?

  But in the fields like these, and having to naturally adapt to the slavery process, it makes you realize to be worth your keep. I think these Oni figured it out quite honestly. In a sense, they might be a community, but no one would take a lashing for the other.

  The air shifts. A shuffle of feet. Heads turn down. Hands grasp at tools with sudden urgency. They scatter, but not in fear—no, in something worse.

  Acceptance.

  It brought me enough satisfaction…but it wasn’t enough for Flugel. I still need to get him off my back.

  He still wants to see a punishment fitting for the red girl.

  And I can’t think of anything like that—

  Wait.

  Maybe I could.

  I twist, and look a the luxurious ranch house. Then look back. I’m gambling hard here, but I don’t have a choice. It’s not like I don’t have it in me to punish a random oni girl I barely even knew.

  Flugel knows, the Oni know, and even the girl knows. I’m not entirely “harmless”, and if I’m put into that position, I could be capable of “great violence”.

  But, even if there’s a chance. I want to be peaceful.

  That being said, Flugel.

  What type of man are you?

  I look at him. Analyzing everything I can. His attire, his horse. The way he carries himself. His eyes, his direct gaze on the girl.

  His greedy smile stretches just a little too wide, like a man who already knows the ending of the story. His fingers tighten on the reins, knuckles pressing white. Something about the way he looks at her—at me—sends a crawling itch under my skin.

  But…there’s no way Flugel could’ve—

  What if he did? I wouldn’t be surprised but…

  My gaze averts before he looks back to me, and yet I have no answer. What I’m going on is a hunch. A total accusation.

  I point towards the girl, “You.”

  Her head snaps to me out of obedience. And there, I get to see most of her features. Short white hair, fiery orange eyes that seemed to be on the verge of tears.

  She had shorter horns, and even one of them managed to have a deep gash into it. I wasn’t sure if that’s safe…or usual anatomy. Is it like a deer’s antlers? Shedding? Or maybe an elephant tusks?

  Focus. Getting back to the task at hand, she looks at me with fear and uncertainty. But there is no hope in her eyes. It’s like she’s already assuming the worst.

  “Follow me.” I say. Flugel hears my words with an amused look. I don’t bother staying for his approval, I’m already on the move.

  Her breath hitches. A pause, maybe half a second, maybe less. Then, she falls in step beside me, head down, hands clasped tight, as if expecting chains to snap shut around her wrists.

  “Oh…where do you think you two are going?” Flugel’s voice is commanding, but I know better than to appease to him. His reaction to me alone tells me everything I need to know.

  I have the advantage.

  And better yet, I may have an idea of what type of man Flugel is.

  “To have fun?” I retort sarcastically, I don’t bother walking or turning back. The red girl does, although for a slight moment before she sees me still continuing and catches up.

  Flugel doesn’t say much, but I can feel his stare down at my back. I have to keep walking, keep going. If this works. If…Flugel is the type of man I think he is…

  I couldn’t even finish my next thought, Flugel bursted out laughing before his horse clops around the field. I can hear him guiding his horse away, and with a distinct comment.

  “Don’t break her too much! She’ll still need to be ready for work first thing in the morning!”

  I bite my lip. Not out of pain, not out of annoyance, not out of agony. But out of the confrontation itself.

  Flugel.

  You sick bastard.