Chapter 31: Carousel of Cruelty
The amusement park had not aged well. Once, perhaps, it was the jewel of Ventri’s childhood delights—a place of candied screams and sugar-spun hysteria. Now, it looked like joy had overdosed in a corner and no one had bothered to clean it up.
Ferris wheels creaked like haunted violins. The Tilt-a-Whirl sat in rusted silence, a skeletal husk of nostalgia. The popcorn stands had long since turned into beer booths, and the cotton candy machines now spun silk ropes for binding wrists.
Delightful.
I walked through the gates in Divine Femmeform—an artful vision of lust and theater wrapped in lace. Though still in my previous costume from the Baron’s theater, my hips swayed like a slow threat and my lips were glossed redder than sin. I was an open invitation with a dagger in my garter.
Miko and the beast boy trailed behind under the illusion of being two wide-eyed guests. The boy, still bruised but walking steadier now, hadn’t said much. But his ears were perked, his tail stiff with unease.
"I must say," I whispered to Miko as we slipped past a pair of scowling guards dressed like discount undertakers, "this is easily the cheeriest amusement park I’ve ever seen—assuming your idea of fun involves trauma and tetanus."
Miko didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. He was staring ahead, face carved from stone.
Ah. He’d seen it too.
The carousel.
It sat in the center of the park like a grotesque crown jewel. Once, I imagined, it played bright music and bore painted horses for giggling children. Now, it groaned beneath the weight of bound bodies. Sex slaves—naked, drugged, displayed like glistening ornaments—were tied to the poles, rotating slowly as bidders circled.
Some of the audience clapped. Others licked their lips. One man was openly drooling into a lace handkerchief. A woman in furs was fanning herself with a ticket bearing a red insignia I didn’t recognize. Her laugh sounded like broken glass.