The underbelly of Remnant’s capital city pulsed with a dark heartbeat, a labyrinth of sin and shadow where the desperate and the depraved mingled under flickering gaslights. The underground auction house was a cavern of vice, its air thick with the musk of unwashed bodies, cheap liquor, and the metallic tang of chains. The murmurs of eager buyers—men with greasy smiles and women with predatory glares—mingled with the clinking of iron as the merchandise was paraded across a splintered wooden stage. Jaune Arc, a lanky young man with more lien than sense, stood near the back, his dusty blond hair falling into nervous blue eyes as he clutched a leather pouch heavy with coin.
He’d inherited a crumbling estate on the outskirts of Vale, a fixer-upper with too many rooms and not enough warmth. Companions, he’d thought naively, would fill the silence. But as he watched the first lot—a trembling girl with hollow eyes—being dragged across the stage, his stomach churned. This wasn’t the gallant adventure he’d imagined. Still, he squared his shoulders, determined to see it through. He wasn’t here to exploit; he was here to… help? Save? He wasn’t sure anymore.
The auctioneer, a wiry man with a voice like a rusted blade, slammed his gavel against a podium. “Next up, a real treat for the discerning buyer! Lot 17, Coco Adel—a firecracker with a mouth on her, but damn, does she look good in leather! And paired with her, Lot 18, Velvet Scarlatina, a bunny Faunus with ears soft enough to make a man weep. Start the bidding at 500 lien!”
Jaune’s gaze snapped to the stage. Two women stood beneath the harsh spotlight, their wrists bound by coarse rope. Coco Adel was a vision of defiance, her chestnut hair styled in a sharp bob, her eyes glinting with a ferocity that could cut glass. She wore a tattered corset and ripped stockings, but carried herself like she was strutting down a runway, not a slave block. Beside her, Velvet Scarlatina seemed smaller, her long brown ears twitching with every jeer from the crowd. Her wide, amber eyes burned with quiet resentment, her delicate frame trembling but unbowed.
“Five hundred!” a fat man in the front row barked, licking his lips as he eyed Velvet. “I’ll take the bunny for my collection!”
“Six hundred!” a woman with a cruel smirk countered, her gaze raking over Coco. “I’ve got a whip that’ll tame that mouth of hers.”
Jaune’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know what possessed him—maybe it was the way Coco’s sneer dared the crowd to try her, or how Velvet’s ears flattened with every degrading word—but he raised a shaky hand. “Eight hundred!”
The crowd turned, a ripple of snickers spreading through the room. “Who’s the farm boy?” someone muttered. “Looks like he’d trip over his own feet trying to handle those two.”
Coco’s sharp eyes zeroed in on Jaune, her lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts mockery and intrigue. “Oh, look, Velvet,” she drawled, her voice carrying over the din. “We’ve got a knight in shining… what is that, burlap? Trying to rescue us. How *adorable.*”
Velvet didn’t respond, but her gaze flicked to Jaune, assessing him with a quiet intensity that made his neck heat up.
“Nine hundred!” the fat man growled, glaring at Jaune.
Jaune swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his pouch. “One thousand!” he shouted, his voice cracking on the last syllable. The room erupted in laughter, but he held his ground, cheeks burning.
The bidding climbed, a vicious tug-of-war between Jaune and the leering predators. Coco watched the spectacle with a raised brow, occasionally tossing barbs at the crowd. “Keep going, boys,” she called out, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m worth at least twice that. Don’t cheap out on me now.”
Finally, with a bid of 2,500 lien—nearly all he had—Jaune secured the lot. The gavel slammed down, and the auctioneer barked, “Sold to the blond twig in the back! Come claim your prizes!”
Jaune stumbled forward, the crowd parting with a mix of amusement and disdain. He reached the stage, where Coco and Velvet stood waiting, their expressions unreadable. Up close, Coco’s presence was overwhelming—her posture screamed control, her eyes dissecting him like a tailor eyeing flawed fabric. Velvet, though silent, had a subtle strength in the set of her jaw, her ears twitching as if catching every sound of his uneven breathing.
“So,” Coco began, her voice a velvet blade as a guard unshackled their wrists, “you’re the big spender who thinks he can buy loyalty. Let’s get one thing straight, sunshine—I don’t kneel for anyone, especially not a kid who looks like he just rolled out of a haystack. What’s your deal? Lost a bet? Trying to impress a girl?”
Jaune scratched the back of his neck, flustered. “Uh, no, I just… I needed help with my estate. It’s big, and empty, and I thought—”
“You *thought*?” Coco interrupted, stepping closer, her boots clicking against the wood. She was shorter than him, but her presence loomed. “Sweetie, thinking isn’t your strong suit. You just dropped a fortune on two women who’d rather shank you than serve you tea. Isn’t that right, Velvet?”
Velvet’s lips twitched, the first hint of a reaction. “I… don’t know about shanking,” she murmured, her voice soft but edged with steel. “But I’m not here to play maid for some clueless human who thinks he’s doing us a favor.”
Jaune blinked, caught off guard by the quiet venom in her tone. “I’m not—I mean, I don’t expect you to be maids! Or… anything you don’t want to be. I just didn’t want those other people to—” He gestured vaguely at the crowd, now dispersing with disappointed grumbles.
Coco laughed, a sharp, biting sound. “Oh, you’re precious. A regular hero, huh? Newsflash, farm boy: we don’t need saving. We need someone who knows what they’re doing, and I’m guessing that ain’t you. What’s your name, anyway? I wanna know who I’m gonna be running circles around.”
“Jaune,” he mumbled, shifting under her gaze. “Jaune Arc.”
“Jaune Arc,” Coco repeated, rolling the name around like a sour candy. “Sounds like a knight from a fairy tale. Too bad this ain’t one. I’m Coco, and this is Velvet. And let’s get this straight right now—I’m in charge. You might’ve bought us, but you don’t own us. We’ll help with your little estate project, but only because I don’t fancy being pawed at by those creeps back there. You step out of line, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Understood?”
Jaune nodded dumbly, overwhelmed by the force of her words. “Uh, yeah. Understood.”
Velvet tilted her head, her ears perking slightly. “He’s… not like the others,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “But that doesn’t mean I trust him.”
Coco smirked, clapping Jaune on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “Good instincts, bun-bun. Trust is earned, and Jaune here’s got a long way to go. Now, lead the way, boss man. Let’s see this dump you call an estate.”
As they exited the auction house, the cool night air hit Jaune like a slap, clearing some of the haze from his mind. Coco strode ahead, her hips swaying with deliberate confidence, while Velvet walked beside him, her silence a heavy presence. The tension between them crackled like static, a storm brewing on the horizon. Jaune couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just bought more than companions—he’d invited two hurricanes into his life, and Coco, with her sharp tongue and sharper will, was already steering the ship.
“So, Jaune,” Coco tossed over her shoulder, her voice laced with mischief, “you got any other bright ideas, or is this the peak of your brilliance? Because if it is, we’re in for a *wild* ride.”
Jaune sighed, already feeling the weight of her challenge. “I guess we’ll find out.”
And with that, the trio disappeared into the shadowed streets, the echoes of the auction house fading behind them, replaced by the uncertain rhythm of their new, volatile dynamic.
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