With a resounding splash and water droplets scattered across the aged wooden surface, a sponge had slapped down with determination. Two small, soft hands scrubbed vigorously as if attempting to scour every trace of dirt from the floor. A high-pitched sneeze rang out, its volume belying its adorable quality; the scrubbing came to a halt, and she leaned back to catch her breath. She was a demi-human with short brown hair, shiny bright brown eyes, fluffy ears, and a tail akin to a raccoon.
The room where she found herself was dark and cramped; its only source of fresh air was a small window bordered by iron bars that cast eerie shadows on the walls. Faint, dusty sunbeams pierced the dimness, revealing a collection of weathered furniture and worn tapestries lining the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and dust, a stark reminder of the isolation endured there. Cobwebs draped like curtains in forgotten corners, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.
Despite the bleak conditions, a few wilted plants struggled for survival on the windowsill, yearning for sunlight just beyond their reach. The raccoon girl often found solace in tending to them, nurturing what little life still existed in the forsaken place. Their resilience offered her hope; if they could endure, perhaps she could too.
A creaking noise echoed through the chamber as the door slowly opened, the hinges protesting their disuse. The raccoon girl turned her gaze toward the doorway, the sound of iron chains scraped against the wooden floor accompanying her movement, a thick iron-cast collar imprisoned her slender neck.
A man crept into the room, his heavy steps caused the cracked wooden planks to groan in protest, adding to the cacophony of creaks that filled the space.
"Ah, my little pet, Mutonki, how are you feeling today?" he uttered with an air of authority that sent chills down her spine. His figure was tall and lanky, draped in dark robes adorned with metallic trinkets that clinked together with his every step. Yet, despite the cruel curve of his thin lips, there was something undeniably alluring about the twisted fire in his eyes.
Mutonki had known this man all too well. It had been a month, perhaps even several months since she was brought here, though the lack of a calendar made it challenging to determine. Her captor fancied himself the 'Overlord of the Living,' but she saw him for what he truly was: nothing more than a pathetic man playing at being a god. He thrived on control; his presence alone filled the room with a sense of authority, but Mutoki saw this as a power play to boost his child-like ego.
"SPEAK UP!" His roar jolted her as he struck her across the face, leaving a stinging red mark on her cheek. She immediately responded with a quiet and timid, "I-I'm alright."
Her voice was barely audible due to her dry throat and shyness. However, she wondered if this reserveness had inadvertently prolonged her tenuous existence here.
She knew it was only a matter of time before something broke, either her spirit or her body. But deep down, she clung to the hope that someone would rescue her or the courage would rise within her to seize an opportunity for freedom.
The man toyed with her hair momentarily, his fingers lingered on Mutonki's thighs. "You know, Mutonki, it might be time for you to receive a promotion; you've grown quite a bit," he said with a malevolent grin. Panic and despair washed over her face, but as if sensing her fear, he stopped and stood back up.
Mutonki knew what he meant by more than just a servant—it also happened to her friend Honio. The screams she heard that day echoed in her mind, but simultaneously, it made her want to escape even more if only she didn't have a slave collar.
The man spoke with authority, "Anyway, I have a job for you, Mutonki. I have a problem with a powerful individual in the Citadel of Alessa. I know it's been a while since I've used you to kill, so why not give you a purpose until you're turned into another one of my wives?" Mutonki was shocked at his words. The last time she was forced to kill a trader guarded by five C-Rank adventurers. The trader was detrimental to this overlord's influence, which sent him on a killing spree; surprisingly, the Guild and the nation didn't go after him for some unknown reason.
With a mix of curiosity and submissiveness, Mutonki asked, "A-alright… and who is it this time?" She was prepared for a sudden spew of information on her target, but she got a surprise instead.
The man shrugged, and his face turned from a sense of authority and pride to anger and pure frustration. Mutonki hadn't seen this in a long time since the massacre he ordered upon his political enemies.
"It's some damn man in a custom, wearing a weird demon face mask as if he's a god. That annoying pest destroyed the entire underground hideout under Alessa just as I prepared a full-scale takeover to enslave as many people as possible. He stopped me from getting my hands on a luxurious elf, probably would've sold for a lot," he mumbled out through clenched teeth. It seemed that talking about this unknown man made him rather frustrated and, at the same time, anxious.
He continued, "You'll depart tomorrow. You'll be re-equipped with—what did you call it again? Meowie's collection?" he started to let out a mocking laugh, wiping away tears. "I remember now! In the past, you thought you were from a different world; what do you call a VR-MMORPG? Damn, your fantasies crack me up." He bellowed, laughing as he left the room; his laughter dissipating as the door closed.
Eventually, Mutonki was left alone in the dark, cramped room, with only the wilted flowers to keep her company. She moved back over to the water bucket, picked up the sponge, and plunged it deep into the water, she then took it out to scrub the floor. Tears had run down her face, and even though her mental fortitude hadn't been broken, her arms slowly became weaker and weaker. Soon, she collapsed and fell asleep, whispering, "If only… I could've… used my skills."