A few minutes ago, in the storage room of the gang's base…
A lot of women were huddled together for warmth in the dirty room. It was called a storage room, but essentially it was a pen for women.
Each night, sometimes more than once, men from the gang would enter the room and pick a woman to play with. Most of the women who were picked never returned the same.
The redheaded woman, lying limply in one corner, was the proof of their atrocities. The others didn't know what happened to her, but she never talked, never fought whenever the men chose her.
Since she had stopped reacting, perhaps she had stopped being fun for the gang members. Hence, they stopped picking her.
If the gang leader's brother hadn't taken a liking to her, she would have already been used as bait to catch monsters.
"Shush… don't look at her," one of the girls warned the new girl. "They took that girl's friend in the morning, and she didn't return. You know what that means—"
