Piel was fated to end up in my hands eventually, even without the pretext of a 'birthday gift'.
In the Argent Family, slaves under direct family control were discarded immediately for even the slightest defect.
Not a single wound or flaw was tolerated.
In that place, a 'product' wasn't merely flawed—it was guilty.
That was why.
The moment Piel collapsed vomiting blood in front of the other four heirs, her life should have ended right there.
A 'defective product' that would have been disposed of with a single stroke, with no one stepping in if rules were followed.
But... like some absurd 'protagonist correction,' there just happened to be an abandoned illegitimate child in the family at that perfect timing.
In other words, me—Lucas.
The fox girl on the verge of disposal was handed off to me with a single word from the family head, destined to tumble half-broken into yet another hell.
If it had been Lucas's past self, the outcome was already set.
A life raised through beatings, tramplings, and humiliations simply for being a bastard.
Then one day, before the eyes of that 'young master' whom even the family servants treated like a bug, someone even lower appeared—a slave bowing her head to him.
There was no way that deranged child would stay quiet.
A classic case of the strong preying on the weak, finally confronting a life weaker than his own.
From that moment, Piel became the target for all of Lucas's refuse.
Loneliness, rage, helplessness, self-loathing, disgust.
Even as she lay collapsed without the strength to move, sharp irritation, outbursts, and a twisted obsession resembling love were hurled at her relentlessly.
And that torment continued like a noose tightening around her throat until just before she escaped.
...This was the backstory of Piel mentioned in the original work Vengeful Goddesses.
The tale so brutal that even in a 19+ story, parts had to be censored.
Was that why?
In the original timeline, ten years later.
Piel captured her first and last master, Lucas, and tortured him mercilessly in the name of revenge.
She pulled out his nails one by one, gouged out his screaming eyeballs, and finally tore off both his testicles, crushing them on the floor.
'...Thinking about it like that, it's really terrifying.'
I absolutely, under no circumstances, wanted to avoid that ending.
So, with utmost care, I examined the body of Piel, who had just awakened, and spoke up.
"How are you feeling? Any pain anywhere?"
"Th-that..."
Piel still couldn't properly meet my eyes.
Her hesitation, her blocked words—it was all too vivid.
"If you don't want to talk, that's fine. Just... if it hurts too much, tell me that much."
It was probably because she'd endured harsh conditions even before being dragged to the Argent Family.
Even after administering the highest-grade healing item reserved for royalty—the Water of Life, which could regrow a severed arm—she'd slept soundly for three full days.
And this morning—
Just as I was stretching by the bed, Piel finally came to, sitting there blankly.
Fatigue still shadowed her face like a veil, but her eyes were clear and alive.
"Are your eyes okay? Can you see from the right one again? Your ears... well, only you can tell if your hearing's back."
"Eyes... ears...?"
"While you were asleep, I fixed what I could."
Even as I spoke, the child trembled so much that cold sweat dripped from her chin.
This went beyond a medical checkup.
It wasn't mere pain; it was the body's ingrained response to prolonged abuse.
I'm a surgeon, not a psychiatrist, but even I could recognize this reaction.
Her shoulders flinching with deep breaths, her eyes jerking reflexively at the slightest movement of my hand.
These weren't movements a child should have.
Then, Piel's expression suddenly stiffened.
"...Huh?"
One hand groped at her right eye socket, the other tentatively touched the fox ears that had regrown atop her head.
And the tail, always limp on the bed, twitched ever so slightly, just for a moment.
Clearly, even she couldn't believe it.
"Why... is this...?"
"I treated you."
"You... ah, no. Master... did this?"
"..."
I was momentarily speechless.
Waking up to a strange boy and so naturally calling him 'Master.'
She grasped the situation too quickly.
Was it the ingrained slave instinct...?
I had no idea what wounds even a raised voice might leave on a girl like this.
So I steadied my breath and spoke as gently as I would to a patient.
"First... are you hungry? It's been three days since you last ate."
"F-food...? ...Gulp."
Her lips quivered as she swallowed softly.
Slaves weren't supposed to show hunger, so she stayed silent, but her face was honest enough.
I smiled a little at the sight.
It reminded me of handling my first child patient in the clinic.
"Yeah. Let's eat together. Something that won't strain your body."
Piel nodded very slowly.
The trembling lingered, but that single small nod showed her will to survive.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Anticipating a moment like this, I'd bought large chunks of meat from the market.
According to the original setting, beastkin preferred 'direct' meat like whole barbecued chunks over thin, refined human-style steaks.
So I'd instructed the head chef to roast them crispy.
The problem? No one paid heed to a bastard young master's words.
So I came myself.
A knife speaks faster than words.
Crunch.
"G-gah?! You mad—!"
"Oops. Slippery hands."
The kitchen knife was half-buried in the cook's instep, red blood spurting out like oil droplets.
I shook off my wrist for a moment.
The memory of opening and closing human bodies dozens of times a day as a surgeon in Korea still lingered in my fingertips.
One lesson from that: skin is thinner than you think, and bones are closer than you expect.
No reason to hesitate over stabbing a mere instep.
The cook screamed, while my exclusive maid Karen, watching from the side, sighed with a 'here we go again' look.
She seemed too jaded from seeing it multiple times to be surprised.
But this wasn't enough.
I pulled out the knife and held it out to the cook.
"Annoyed? Then stab me back."
"...Y-yes?"
Karen flinched right beside me.
"If you've got a problem, stab away. But—"
I met the cook's eyes and continued.
"You'll handle the aftermath. What of it? I'm just an expendable bastard in the Argent Family. Worst case, you'll get quartered alive. Don't worry. It's only that much~."
As soon as I finished, the rage in his bloodshot eyes slowly turned to terror.
His hand gripping the knife blade froze solid, tremors spreading from his knuckles to his elbow.
It was quite the sight.
The melting of fury into fear—you have to see it in person to savor the flavor.
Blood pooling on the floor from the knife in his instep, yet he seemed to console himself that it could be worse.
The head chef finally grasped reality and forced a smile.
"Y-young... Young Master. The food... will be out soon..."
He dragged his dripping foot but bowed at a perfect ninety degrees.
Argent Family hired slaves really shine in moments like these.
With the promise secured, I headed back to my room with light steps.
Bastards like me weren't allowed in the mansion's dining hall.
I still had to eat in this single-room annex, barely larger than a studio.
Opening the door, I saw a small body trembling slightly on the bed.
Piel.
I pulled out a small unused dining table from the corner, set it before the bed, and added a second chair opposite.
"Food's coming, so come sit."
"...! Y-yes, Master!"
Piel scrambled down to the edge of the bed.
Before her toes even brushed the floor, the door burst open.
The head chef had brought the food faster than expected.
And as expected of an Argent cook, the skill was impeccable.
A massive smoked barbecue that nearly covered my table.
Oil glistened on the crisped surface—enough to drive any beastkin mad just from the scent.
Piel would surely be thrilled.
Her eyes sparkling from the bed, face lit up like a child's at the sight of meat.
The mere thought warmed me.
...Or so I thought.
"Alright, let's eat."
"Enjoy your meal, Master."
"...Huh?"
The hunk of meat was so huge it blocked my view across, but something felt off.
The presence of Piel, who should have been sitting opposite, was gone.
Instead, a strange, cough-like breathing came from the floor by my side.
Turning my head, there was Piel, crouched on all fours.
Just like a well-trained 'pet dog.'
"Piel...?"
"Yes, Master."
"What are you doing...?"
"As trained, this slave has finished meal preparations!"
She said it with wide eyes, as if it were the most natural thing.
In that very posture.
Palms and knees flat on the floor, chin slightly raised, looking up at me.
'...What the hell?'
My mouth fell open slightly on its own.
"You're... going to eat like that?"
"Yes!"
"How?"
"By eating whatever you drop while eating, Master!"
"...?"
My brain stalled for 0.5 seconds.
This wasn't even 'slaves eat from the floor' level.
It was something far more depraved and perverse.
Then Piel blinked and added naturally.
"Don't worry, Master! I got severely punished once for picking up scraps with my hands, so I won't make that mistake again!"
And with a bright smile, she stuck out her tongue, mimicking a dog perfectly.