Transmigrator continued to watch the scene like a spectator.
His hands wouldn't obey him, and his vision was a blur. All he could feel were hot tears and the grinding of his teeth. He had no idea how long he had been in this state of limbo.
Suddenly, small palms pressed against his wet cheeks. It was a rabbit-girl named Sheril.
"What... what happened? Is Gray okay?" she asked, looking around in confusion.
Since the boy had been gone for too long, Sheril thought he had gotten lost and decided to help her neighbor. Imagine her surprise when she found him curled into a ball and crying, with five other boys lying beaten nearby.
Sheril felt a surge of panic.
Gray didn't answer. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't tear his eyes away from the beads on the bracelet, gently fumbling them between his fingers. He kept repeating, "Mom, Grace, Kasi..." like a broken record.
Everything about him screamed that he had lost his mind.
"Don't just stand there like a statue, Sheril. He's lost it. Let's just get him out of here while the guards aren't looking," Lily's irritated voice rang out from behind.
Gray felt his body slowly rise, supported on both sides by the small hands of his fellow sufferers. He still couldn't control his own movements, but he realized the girls were leading him away from the site of the fight.
"Gray has to get out of here, as soon as possible," Sheril urged. Her voice was full of fear and worry.
Lily, on the other hand, proved to be more composed. "Faster, Sheril. We'll all catch hell if the overseers catch us. Why did I even come with you? I knew this guy would be trouble..."
They walked, trying not to draw attention to themselves, weaving between the other children in the courtyard.
Gray felt his body trembling, and the names still echoed in his head: "Mom, Grace, Kasi...", though only incoherent murmurs escaped his mouth.
Finally, they reached a relatively secluded spot.
Lily looked around, making sure no one saw them, and lowered Gray to the ground, leaning his back against some crates.
"What's wrong with Gray?" Sheril asked in a panic.
Lily shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he got hit in the head too hard? What do we care? We already bailed him out... We aren't his relatives to be babysitting him."
Gray heard their conversation but couldn't respond. His consciousness was still struggling with the flood of memories and emotions that, he was certain, did not belong to him.
"Gray," Sheril called out cautiously. "Can you hear Sheril? Who are Grace and Kasi?"
As soon as Sheril uttered those two names, the boy's body shuddered again, as if he had been reminded of a nightmare.
Fresh tears flooded from his eyes. They were red...
Lily sighed. "Leave him be... Give him time to come around. We need to figure out what to tell the guards if they ask about the fight."
While the girls quietly discussed potential excuses, Gray tried to figure out what was happening to him.
Who were these people the body yearned for so much? And how was he supposed to live now, sharing a consciousness with another being? Had he really become a schizophrenic? Just as he thought things couldn't get any worse...
The walk ended, but he didn't remember how he got back into the cage.
He tried to talk to the original owner of the body:
'Hey, hey! Kid controlling the body. Can you tell me who you are and what I'm doing in your head?'
'Come on, stop repeating the same thing. Can you explain properly what exactly happened to you?'
'Really, enough already. I can feel that you're hurting. But you know, it's not easy for me either. I don't know where I am or what will happen to me. Looks like we're stuck here together. Maybe we should discuss what to do?'
Gray couldn't count how many times he shouted such phrases in his head or uttered them with the half of his face he could control, attempting to reach the "owner of the body."
The sounds were quite strange and even frightening.
Sheril and Lily looked bewildered and deeply concerned. They sat next to Gray in the cage, not knowing how to react to his behavior. He knew perfectly well that he looked like a madman to anyone watching. But did he have any other options?
Gray continued to mentally address the "other," but received no answer.
He felt waves of emotions that didn't belong to him rolling in like tides. Deep sadness, fear, despair. The feelings were so intense that at times it felt as though he would soon drown in them.
His panicked attempts to reach his counterpart were interrupted by rhythmic, heavy footsteps approaching the cage and the clattering of metal against metal.
Soon, the stout figure of a guard appeared. The man seemed impatient and irritated.
"You," he pointed at Gray, "are coming with me for questioning."
Gray's heart hammered faster. He wanted to stand up and remain obedient, but his legs wouldn't listen.
The second personality didn't care about the overseer's order. His alter-ego's entire world had shrunk down to three names and the beads of a bracelet. He wasn't even paying attention to his own condition, so how could he possibly care about some guard?
The overseer didn't think the little brat would dare ignore his order.
Did he eat a leopard's heart? Or had the adrenaline gone to the boy's head, making him feel like some "important person"?
"Hey, kid! What's the deal?" the guard growled, slamming a hand against the bars. "Answer when you're spoken to!"
But Gray couldn't force out a single word. His lips moved soundlessly, repeating the names: "Mom, Grace, Kasi..." Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, and his teeth ground together from the tension.
Sheril and Lily, who until this moment had been trying to help their fellow sufferer, now stood aside, not wanting to be dragged into it.
They exchanged worried looks, realizing the situation was getting more serious by the second.
Lily proved to be the bolder one. "Excuse me, sir," she addressed the overseer, "Gray... he hit his head really hard. He can't answer properly."
The overseer frowned, shifting his gaze from Gray to the girls. "And does that explain why five fighter candidates ended up injured?"
At his sharp tone and ferocious stare, the girls huddled into the corner of the cell in fear. Their bodies shook violently as if seized by tremors.
Stuttering, the little succubus tried to answer:
"I... I... don't... don't know. He's been like this since he got back from the walk."
Gray wanted to cry out in frustration, but every available tear had already been spent on grief. He could only pray to his "other self" to obey so they wouldn't be killed on the spot for disobedience.
Finally, the man realized that something really was wrong with the brat. This thought only fueled the guard's rage further, as he was the one who would be held responsible for damaged goods.
He had to unlock the cage to squeeze inside and haul Gray out by the scruff of his neck.
Gray felt his body go limp in the overseer's rough hands.
"Mom, Grace, Kasi..." he continued to mutter, unable to control his own voice.
"Shut the fuck up!" the overseer barked, backhanding the boy. "And you little bitches, sit here and stay quiet, or else... I won't let you out for a week. Got it?"
The girls, wanting nothing more than to shrink and become invisible, nodded their heads like chickens pecking at grain. They watched in horror as their fellow sufferer was carelessly carried away like a sack of potatoes.
Gray was dragged roughly down the familiar long corridor, his feet barely touching the floor. The overseer held him firmly by the scruff of the neck, paying no mind to the boy's condition.
Finally, they stopped before an inconspicuous door.
The overseer knocked and, without waiting for an answer, shoved him inside.
Even though his immediate superior presided over this room, there wasn't the slightest hint of modesty or restraint in the guard's movements. The Head Overseer remained seated at his desk, ignoring his subordinate's rough handling of the boy.
The appearance of the Head Overseer was repulsive.
He had a gaunt build and a bald head. His pale skin was covered in numerous pits, looking like smallpox scars. His eyes, set deep in their sockets, stared with a cold, piercing intensity. Thin lips were twisted into an unpleasant smirk, revealing yellowish teeth.
"He-he-he, you're 'polite' as always, Gracchus. Well, come on, tell me what happened to this kid? And why should I have to report to Mr. Harmon that yesterday's merchandise didn't just turn up bruised, but also damaged the others?"
"Stop laughing, Quintilian! We have a problem. Even if five brats got beaten up, you know perfectly well that those bruises are like water off a duck's back to them. I just wanted to find out exactly what happened during the walk. Но this one seems to have completely lost his mind. He doesn't react to anything at all. All he does is mumble something under his breath."
"He-he-he, that's why, my dear friend, you still haven't been promoted. You're too soft and gentle for your own good. Slaves aren't worthy of such attention. What problem can't be solved with a switch?" the Head Overseer said, carelessly pulling an alder branch from a large pitcher of water.
"Are you sure that'll help? I'll bet my life he isn't faking it," Gracchus started to protest, but he was unceremoniously cut off.
"Why don't we find out? Since he isn't satisfied with the gentle company of little prostitutes, why don't I introduce him to a soldier's discipline?"
"Do what you want. Just keep me out of trouble with Harmon."
Their dialogue sent the sensible Earthling into a fit of rage. However, more than anything, he felt panic. What if the original owner of the body resisted?
Though Gray was still reeling from the previous fight, he didn't believe a weak child could actually handle grown men.
Gray stood trembling in the middle of the room.
He could only watch helplessly as Quintilian slowly approached, toyed with the alder branch in his hand.
His thin lips stretched into a cruel smirk when he saw the boy's shaking body.
'Truly, a slave does not want freedom; he wants to have his own slaves,' the transmigrator thought to himself, bracing for a ruthless flogging.
"Kasi, Grace, Mom," the original owner whispered without stopping.
"Well now, little one, let's see how fast you snap out of it," the overseer hissed, raising the branch to strike.
The first blow landed between his shoulder blades.
"Aaaaaah!" Gray screamed.
His bellicose self wanted to resist, but this time, the Earthling managed to hold him back.
'Idiot. Have you completely lost your mind? I don't care if you beat up brats, but damn it, these are overseers. Just stay submissive. Your resistance will only egg this pervert on even more. I don't want to give him the satisfaction, so sit still.'
Ignoring the child's painful shrieks, Quintilian continued to lash him with the switch.
Gray felt blood trickling down his shoulder blades. A sharp, searing pain pierced his entire back. It felt as if someone had dragged white-hot metal across his skin.
Each blow intensified the agony, sending waves of it crashing through his whole body. Every new strike felt stronger than the last.
Gray felt his skin burning and throbbing. He wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but he couldn't get a word out. Instead, only stifled moans and sobs escaped his throat.
The body jerked once more in an attempt to attack. But the attempt was cut short by a resolute, pained cry that rang out with surprising clarity.
"Aaaaaah, please, stop!"
"He-he-he, so you're in there after all, kid. For trying to trick me, have a few more," the Head Overseer laughed self-indulgently, continuing the flogging.
In his mind, Gray cursed the "other self" that kept trying to resist:
'Fuck, now is not the time to play hero. Do you see they have weapons? You damned stubborn, sick bastard, you're the reason we're in this mess. I don't want to die, so just take it. There's no way this pervert won't get bored of a useless beating eventually.'
Time seemed to slow down. Gray didn't know how many minutes or hours had passed. He didn't know how many blows had landed.
His entire being was focused on the unbearable pain and the desperate attempt to keep his "other self" from making any stupid moves.
=============
Dear readers, please don't forget to write the reviews, support book with Power Stones, and express your opinion in the comments.
Your reactions not only inspire me, but also influence the algorithms that promote the work and allow it to find more readers.
Thank you so much for your support.