On the borders of the kingdom lay a city that resembled a medieval European metropolis; a ceaseless bustle, a vibrant life pulsating through its alleyways, choked with the voices of vendors and the clamor of caravans, where every footstep echoed with the sounds of trade and travel. This scene remained commonplace in the city until, on the horizon, a dilapidated carriage appeared, its frame crumbling, empty save for a boy of about thirteen. The boy was strangely shaped, with gray hair the color of a dying fire, and what made the scene even more bizarre was that he possessed cat ears and a cat's tail. The boy lay on the wooden plank of the carriage, his empty eyes reflecting a deep-seated misery and hidden pain. As for the carriage driver, he was a grim-faced, one-eyed man, massive as if hewn from stone, leading behind him a horse as black as a moonless, pitch-black night.
As soon as the carriage entered the heart of the city, the clamor turned to gloom, and joy replaced by heavy sorrow. A forced silence descended, and the faces of passersby were etched with hatred and caution, while whispers circulated: "He's the slave trader... He's the one-eyed man." These murmurs reached the driver's ears, but he met them with stubborn indifference, continuing on his way. Inside the carriage, the boy's eyes scanned the city's landmarks, not with admiration, but searching for a way to escape. His gaze would then return to his battered body, bitterly touching the scars left by his past escape attempts. With every jolt of the carriage, which nearly disintegrated, he became more certain of the impossibility of escape, and he would return to his bed, resigned to his fate.
The carriage finally stopped before a towering white wall, behind which lay a magnificent palace. In the center of its lush garden stood a majestic statue of a knight, his sword raised proudly towards the heavens. The gruff driver dismounted and went to the back of the carriage to unlock it with keys that hung from his waist. He then violently snatched the boy away, saying, "Finally, I'll be free from your trouble!"
At the gate, they were greeted by a man in his forties, dressed in the solemn attire of a servant. The one-eyed man threw the boy at the servant's feet, demanding the rest of his money. The servant simply tossed him a purse of cash, which the one-eyed man examined before leaving without a word. The servant led the boy to an annex of the palace, down to a dark cellar where the morning sun had set, leaving only the faint glow of torches hanging on the walls. This revealed to the boy the ugly face of this marble edifice. Cells reeking of mold and blood, a smell the boy had grown so accustomed to that it was now part of his memory.
He was thrown into one of those cells, and before the servant left, he said in a dry voice, without turning around, "From today, you are a slave to the Osagi family. You will have only one meal a day."
Hours passed in isolation until another boy, dressed in servant's clothes, approached. He was thin, with black hair tied up, and about twelve years old. He placed the plate of food down and asked affectionately, "What is your name, boy?"
The boy answered hesitantly, "Ken... my name is Ken."
The servant smiled and said, "And I'm Zane. Nice to meet you."
Ken retorted with biting sarcasm, "Nice to meet a slave!"
Zane swallowed his disappointment in silence, but he didn't back down. Instead, he leaned against the wall opposite the cell and said, "Let's talk for a bit. My break has just started." Zayn launched into a lengthy monologue about himself and his experiences, until he suddenly glanced at his watch, a look of surprise spreading across his face. "It seems the good times are slipping away," he said. "I'll come tomorrow at the same time."
And so, Zayn kept his promise, continuing to visit Ken every day with food and conversation. Then one day, as Zayn was about to leave, as usual, Ken's words stopped him like a thunderbolt: "I know you're not a servant."
Zayn's expression hardened for a moment, his cheerful gaze taking on a deeper, more serious expression, before he regained his smile. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
Ken repeated firmly, "You're not a servant."
Realizing the seriousness of the matter, Zayn sat down opposite him and asked, "What exposed me?" Ken replied coldly, "Three reasons. First, I'm a slave who was bought a month ago, and you're the only one who's entered this room. This is illogical, as a slave is supposed to be led away for discipline upon arrival, breaking his will. Second, the cells are empty of other slaves; the great Osagi family wouldn't be content with just one slave, which means my presence here serves a specific purpose. Third, your flattering manner and refined way of speaking are unlike the common language of servants; they're more befitting a personal servant of one of the family's masters. This contradicts the shabby clothes you wear, which are of lower quality than those of the servant who brought me here. All of this confirms that you're not just a servant passing the time, but someone with a specific goal in mind."
Zane's eyes gleamed with a smile mixed with surprise. "Amazing! I thought you'd pick up on one or two clues, but you've grasped the whole plot. Tell me, how long have you known?"
"Two months ago," Ken said.
"And why did you keep quiet all this time?" Zane asked, surprised.
Ken paused, then said, "I had to be sure. Claiming a position in the Osagi family isn't easy, and besides, talking to someone my own age was quite enjoyable."
At that point, Zane said firmly, "Then it's time to reveal myself. I'm Zane Osagi. And without further ado, what do you say to working for me?"
Ken replied bitterly, "Does a slave's opinion matter? If I refuse, you can kill me."
Zane said, "That is, if death is the lesser of two evils."
Ken asked, "And what job could be worse than death?" Zane replied, "Spying on the nobility. The Osagi family is responsible for protecting the nobility, and we've spotted corrupt individuals skillfully manipulating the shadows. I need an eye to watch them where they least expect it—a spy disguised as a slave."
Ken inquired why a professional wasn't being hired. Zane explained, "I'm the sole heir, and our previous attempts to uncover paid spies have failed. Slaves have official records with the merchants' guild that can't be forged, and the nobility, in their arrogance, would never suspect a lowly 'slave.' I need a real slave, one with sharp intellect. Do you understand?"
Ken pondered for ten minutes, then asked, "And what's the reward for taking such a risk?"
Zane said, "One wish. I'll give you anything within my power if we catch them."
Ken smiled sarcastically. "And how do you know the nobles' promises are true? Where's your proof?"
Zane looked at the wall and said calmly, "The magic contract." Ken was stunned. "Is it really that dangerous for a descendant of Usagi to risk his life for a magic contract?"
Zane replied, "The danger lies only in breaking the promise."
Ken followed up cryptically, "Aren't the gentlemen used to this?"
Zane concluded firmly, "What is your decision?"
Ken paused for a moment, then said, "I will do it... As for the wish..."
Zane interrupted, "Decide tomorrow. I will bring the magic contract and prepare a room worthy of you so we can continue our discussion."