While little Grey was recalling the rich history of Pratos that he had studied in Constancia and Constantine's lessons, the clatter of metal bowls against the stone floor and the muffled voices of other captives pulled him out of his thoughts.
It was time for the morning meal. In front of him stood a bowl of watery porridge and a mug of cloudy water, a meager breakfast meant to give strength for the hard day ahead.
"Grey needs to eat at least a little. To recover, he needs strength," Sheryl reminded gently, just like Lily, refusing to use his new name.
The boy chose not to dwell on it and simply accepted it.
He nodded in gratitude and reached for the food.
The other prisoners hurriedly swallowed their portions, knowing there was almost no time left to rest. Soon they would be taken out to work.
Grey tried to eat quickly, but every swallow came with difficulty. The tasteless porridge stuck in his dry throat, making him nauseous.
This was not how he had imagined life away from his family.
The moment he saw the bottom of the bowl, an order rang out to line up. Together with Lily and Sheryl, he stepped out of the cage and stood at attention.
A bald overseer named Gracchus approached them. After giving the boy a long, appraising look, he handed the trio buckets filled with a caustic liquid and ordered them to head to the laundry.
"God, what is that horrible smell. Is this really urine?!" Grey grimaced, barely holding back a gag.
The stench rising from the bucket was so vile it made his head spin.
"Yes, it is," Lily muttered with displeasure as they walked toward a small storage room, "What else do you think they would use to wash slaves' clothes? There's no proper body of water here, and this is the only way to get rid of the smell and dirt."
The boy stared at the little succubus in disbelief, hoping she was joking, but she only shrugged.
"Trust me, you'll get used to it. You only notice the smell for the first few days. Now hurry up, we have a long day ahead."
As they entered the "laundry," the trio was swallowed by a suffocating atmosphere thick with steam and stench. Two sturdy women were already at work, standing knee-deep in wooden vats filled with murky sludge. Their faces showed little disgust, and their movements remained steady and practiced.
Grey felt nausea rise in his throat again. He swallowed, trying to suppress the wave of sickness.
Noticing his condition, Lily decided to lend a hand. "Breathe through your mouth," she advised, "And try not to think about the smell. Focus on the work."
"Grey must soak the clothes in the water vats," Sheryl explained, pointing at the huge wooden barrels, "This water is mixed with… Well, Grey should understand. Then we stomp on them with our feet to squeeze out all the dirt and sweat. After that, we rinse the clothes in clean water."
Grey nodded, clenching his teeth, and got to work.
The crumpled, heavy clothes looked more like filthy rags than anything fit to wear. Sweat ran into his eyes, and the acrid fumes stung his nose. Following Lily's advice, he constantly fought back the urge to vomit.
Hour after hour, they stomped the clothes in vats of murky sludge, wringing them out and plunging them back again. The boy's legs ached painfully from the endless motion. When it was time to rinse, Grey felt a flicker of relief, but it did not last long.
The single vat of clean water was quickly turning into a dirty puddle. Grey carried the wrung-out laundry to the girls, who carefully rinsed it in the increasingly cloudy water.
"Hey, boy! Where are Akron's clothes?" the head of the laundry barked.
Grey panicked and began rummaging through piles of wet rags, trying to find the right ones.
He did not know that clothing had its own hierarchy, just like the slaves themselves. A mistake could cause serious trouble for him and for the girls. Even here, the idea of equality barely existed.
By noon, when the sun burned mercilessly through the narrow laundry windows, the trio moved on to treating the clothes with sand. At first, Grey was glad for the fresh air, but he quickly realized how deceptive that relief was.
The rough fabric scraped against his skin, and the sand worked its way under his nails like tiny needles, causing an unbearable itch. His wrinkled fingers had gone stiff from the constant strain, but stopping was not an option.
The overseer returned and watched every movement closely, ready to punish the slightest mistake.
They were falling far behind because of his clumsiness and constant errors, which Sheryl and Lily had to fix. Bent over another heap of clothes, Grey could physically feel the furious gaze of the little succubus burning into his back.
From time to time, he caught himself thinking that he had rushed his victory over the Sky-Dweller.
"Just perfect… I could've stayed asleep. The old ghost always dreamed of a career as a slave sorter. A Sky-Dweller kneading shit… not even a blind man would pull off such a noble scheme," Grey grumbled to himself as he carried another pile of laundry.
With every passing moment, thoughts of home faded like smoke in the wind. Exhaustion and pain filled his entire being.
His only wish was to somehow make it to the end of this endless day, but even such a modest dream was not going to come true anytime soon.
When the washing was finally done, the overseer gave the order for a break.
Grey greedily pressed himself to the jug of water Sheryl had set aside in advance.
At that moment, a pitiful couple of gulps of murky water felt like a gift from the heavens.
After timidly thanking the girl, he quickly rinsed his hands and hurried after them. Under the watchful eye of the overseer, the trio headed to the kitchen. Grey barely noticed his surroundings, focusing only on moving his feet faster.
In the kitchen, they were met by Aunt Gruneya, a tall, lanky woman with kind but tired eyes. Sheryl had said she was a close friend of her mother and now treated the girl like her own daughter. Grey looked at the cook with hope, expecting at least a small glimpse of kindness in this cruel world.
What followed made him shudder.
"Thank you, Mister Gracchus, for bringing helpers. I can't manage without them. I hope they didn't cause any trouble?" the woman asked anxiously, noticing their delay. Her posture screamed of pleading and submission.
"Heh-heh. Everything's fine, Gruneya. I promised to keep an eye on the girl, so don't worry," Gracchus smirked, shamelessly grabbing her buttocks. "Just a slight delay because of the newcomer. Don't worry, I'll cover for them. You know how I take care of my own."
Aunt Gruneya visibly tensed but did not pull away. Her protest was barely noticeable, almost like a hint of flirtation, more a formality than real resistance.
"Not in front of the children, Gracchus," she whispered softly, casting a nervous glance at the trio. "Come after the evening meal. I... will thank you for your protection."
Gracchus smirked smugly, giving her hips a rough slap before leaving. "I'll be looking forward to it, sweetheart," he threw over his shoulder as he walked away with importance.
Grey froze, stunned by what he had just seen.
Disbelief and disgust were written all over his face. Raised by his mother in noble traditions where respect for women was an unbreakable rule, the boy could not process what had just happened.
Catherine had always taught him to be gentle and respectful toward the opposite sex, and here...
He glanced at Sheryl and Lily, expecting to see the same outrage, but the girls only looked away, as if it were something completely ordinary.
Aunt Gruneya took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. "Alright, children, back to work," she said, forcing a lively tone. "Lily, you wash the dishes! Sheryl, you're on serving duty! And you..."
"Grey," the rabbit girl prompted.
"Alex," Grey cut in quickly. "Alex Greyrot."
"...Doesn't matter, Grey it is. You'll assist. You'll sort berries and grain, shell nuts, and wash vegetables. Be careful, this food is for the masters. No sloppy work," the stout woman ordered, clapping her hands.
Still in a state of shock, Grey moved mechanically as he began working.
His hands moved, but his thoughts were far away. He could not understand how treating a woman like that could be considered normal. Why had no one objected? Why hadn't Aunt Gruneya resisted? He would rather die than endure such public humiliation.
Half an hour later, a loud rumble in his stomach pulled Grey out of his thoughts, reminding him of the unfinished morning porridge.
"Grey must not eat even a single bite," Sheryl warned quickly, glancing around. "The ingredients are strictly counted. If anything is missing, not only Grey will be punished, but Sheryl and Lily too. Even Aunt Gruneya will be whipped."
"Do the overseers really have time to count every berry?" Grey asked skeptically, unable to believe it was possible.
Sheryl swallowed nervously, realizing he did not believe her.
"Listen," she whispered, leaning closer, "once Sheryl ate a couple of spoiled midnight berries, thinking no one would notice. The next day, both Mother and Aunt Gruneya were punished. They didn't complain or scold Sheryl, but Sheryl saw how they limped and winced in pain."
Grey coughed awkwardly, realizing the seriousness of the situation.
"I won't. I promise," he said firmly.
"Good," Sheryl nodded, continuing her work.
Her voice trembled as she continued, "Sheryl still feels ashamed about that. Sheryl was afraid of punishment from the overseers and kept silent, and they were the ones who were punished." For a moment, her voice faltered.
"Mother was sold, but Sheryl never confessed her mistake. That is Sheryl's greatest regret... When Sheryl finally found the courage to tell Aunt Gruneya, she only shrugged and said they had always known the truth. They simply took the blame to protect Sheryl.
If... If Sheryl ever meets Mother again, Sheryl will tell her the truth and ask for a fair punishment. If only that could happen," the rabbit girl finished uncertainly.
Grey listened to Sheryl's confession in silence, unsure how to respond.
He had never faced such deep emotions before and felt awkward. The boy was not used to open conversations with his peers, especially with girls.
"Uh... Don't worry about it so much," he managed awkwardly. "I'm sure your mother knows you never meant to hurt her."
Sheryl nodded, but it was clear Grey's words brought little comfort.
An awkward silence settled between them, broken only by the sounds of work in the kitchen.
Continuing to sort the grain, Grey suddenly remembered how one day he and his sister had decided to "paint" Lucky in a noble shade of blue, like an eternal turtle.
His mother had gotten angry, but she only punished him. Back then it had felt terribly unfair. Now, he would gladly accept any punishment, just to see her and his sister again.
His vision blurred almost completely from unwanted tears, but he forced himself to hold the emotions back.
Thoughts of escape filled his entire mind.
As he washed another root vegetable, Grey made a vow to himself: "Enough. I swear I will get out of here, even if I have to cut my way through. And what I'll be cutting won't be carrots..."