Ewan stood quietly, waiting for the auctioneer to call his name, his body already in the position it would be for the upcoming auction. His muscularly lean frame was on full display, but strangely, he didn’t feel the embarrassment one might expect. The feeling didn’t bother him, though he couldn''t quite understand why.


    Perhaps it was because of the personality of the original owner of this body, whose lack of self-consciousness seemed to have transferred over. It was as if the original owner''s experiences, molded by this harsh world, had blended with his own past memories, dulling any discomfort.


    He didn’t have time to dwell on it for long, as the auctioneer’s voice soon called for him, signaling that it was his turn. Ewan straightened up, stepping forward with quiet resignation. There was no dramatic hesitation, just the movement of someone who knew what was expected of them.


    "Now, ladies and gentlemen, please look at our Ewan, who has the greatest body in his batch," the Auctioneer''s voice rang out, smooth and persuasive. "He has all the muscles in the right places and can be called the best-looking man, even when he doesn''t wear clothes."


    Ewan stepped out into the light of the stage, but as the Auctioneer''s words echoed through the hall, he almost stumbled. The introduction caught him off guard, and for a moment, his mind was distracted by the oddness of it. He quickly shook the thought away and regained his composure, pushing forward to the center of the stage. As the Auctioneer continued her speech, he focused on the steps before him.


    "He is good with serving, cooking, cleaning, reading, writing, calculating, managing, dancing, horse riding, swimming, and massaging. He is one of our best products, into which we have put our hearts into training. Ladies and gentlemen, please look at his handsome form."


    Ewan reached the middle of the stage and, with a deep breath, began to pose. His movements were precise, like a bodybuilder showing off his physique. He couldn’t deny the awkwardness he felt, but it was quickly swallowed by the sense of duty that took over.


    The original owner of this body had learned these poses, and somehow, his muscle memory guided him. There was no need to think about the next pose or how to stand—it all came naturally, a skill drilled into him over time.


    The Auctioneer''s speech flowed on, her words praising him, but he remained focused, doing what was expected of him. Finally, she pointed toward him with a smile. The moment had come. Ewan stood tall, his body on display, as the Auctioneer prepared to make her final pitch.


    The Auctioneer’s voice cut through the air with practiced ease, her eyes still lingering on Ewan as he posed, his back now turned to the bidders. His muscles flexed effortlessly under the stage lights, every movement showcasing his well-trained form.


    She couldn’t deny the pull of attraction she felt, but she quickly dismissed the thought, focusing instead on her role. There was a strange comfort in his presence as he stood so near her, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it, keeping her mind sharp and focused on the task at hand.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    “His starting bid will be 1,000 gold coins, with an increase of 10 gold coins per bid,” she announced, her voice steady. “The bid starts now.”


    At the sound of her words, the room seemed to tense, the bidders eager to make their move. One of them, a cloaked figure, raised a sign with their entry number. The bidding had begun.


    “1,000 gold coins, from number 34,” she called, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Now 1,000 going once.”


    The silence that followed was filled with the murmurs of anticipation. But it didn’t last long. A second bidder, number 323, raised their board, and the price quickly climbed.


    “1010 gold coins,” the Auctioneer declared. “Now 1010 going once.”


    Another bidder entered the fray—number 123—with a bid of 1020 gold coins. The pace was quickening, and soon, several more hands were raised, signaling their interest in Ewan. It wasn’t just his appearance that drew attention. While the previous young man had been sold mainly for his rare green eyes, Ewan had a broader appeal. His range of skills—cooking, cleaning, managing, horse riding, and more—made him a far more valuable commodity. He was the kind of slave many bidders were eager to possess, not just for his looks, but for his versatility.


    The auction house buzzed with the excitement of rising bids, the competition fierce. Ewan, still standing in the center of the stage, continued to pose as instructed, the awkwardness of it long forgotten. For him, it was just another step in this strange world he had been thrust into. But to the bidders, he was more than just a pretty face. He was an investment, a product worth every gold coin.


    The room buzzed with excitement as the bids for Ewan climbed higher, fueled by the realization of his rare potential. His rank may have been F, but his skills were exceptional, making him a highly sought-after prize for any noble household. His ability to manage, cook, clean, and more made him a perfect candidate to serve as a future head butler—valuable not just for his looks, but for his reliability.


    As the bidding grew fierce, a voice rang out from the crowd, piercing through the tension like a bell.


    "10,000 gold coins!"


    The voice was a woman''s, sweet and melodious, drawing every eye in the room. The sound of her bid was so loud that the entire auction hall fell silent in an instant. This was unheard of; nobles typically kept their identities hidden and bid quietly, but this woman’s boldness shook the room. Even the Auctioneer, taken aback, paused for a moment. She had never witnessed such an open declaration of intent.


    It took her a moment to regain her composure, and when she did, she announced, “Number 203 has bid 10,000 gold coins.”


    The atmosphere had shifted; the energy in the room was thick with anticipation. The Auctioneer continued with the ritual, her voice steady but tinged with awe.


    “10,000 going once,” she said.


    “10,000 going twice.”


    “10,000 going thrice.”


    "Sold!" She declared with a big smile, her voice carrying across the hall.


    "Congratulations, number 203, for securing Ewan. Don’t worry, you’ll be fully satisfied with him, as that is our guarantee."


    The Auctioneer beamed, her heart light with satisfaction. In a single transaction, she had earned more than 500 gold coins from her commission, and it was clear that this was a rare find. She couldn’t help but wonder if there were more slaves like him—so capable, so perfectly suited for service, yet still carrying a sense of innocence.


    Meanwhile, Ewan, who had been silently standing on the stage, turned to make his way to the other side to retrieve his clothes. His thoughts were distant, detached from the commotion around him. He would soon be transferred to his new owner, and the transaction would be complete.


    The woman who had placed the winning bid watched him closely as he walked away. Her gaze lingered on his bare figure, a faint glint of happiness in her eyes. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something about winning him that made her feel inexplicably pleased. Something about him, something she couldn’t put into words, had drawn her in completely.