The night air in Kenet City, the heart of the Baron Kenet family's domain in the Continent of Eldoria, felt like a thin, cold blade. In the middle of the dimly lit training grounds, Alaric Vane stood rigid. Sweat soaked his coarse linen shirt, clinging to the curves of his back and arm muscles—a physique forged by the maddening nightly training. The scent of salt mixed with dry earth and the woody aroma of the practice sword filled the air between them.
Alaric regulated his heavy breathing. Before him sat a girl in a silk gown that contrasted sharply with the squalid surroundings. Elara Kenet.
The girl did not move. Her eyes, usually dull and lethargic, were now wide, fixed intently on Alaric's form. Under the flickering light of the oil lamps dancing in the wind, Alaric's damp skin seemed to glisten. Elara could see every muscle fiber tensing as Alaric caught his breath. To Elara, Alaric was not just a slave; he was a sight that could not be ignored.
"My Lady," Alaric called out softly. His voice, raspy from exhaustion, broke the silence.
Elara flinched. She blinked several times, her face instantly heating up. She realized she had been staring at Alaric's body in a manner entirely unbecoming of a noble daughter. Shame washed over her—not because she cared for morality, but because she had been caught admiring her eldest sister's "property."
"R-regarding last night..." Alaric continued.
In an instant, the embarrassment on Elara's face evaporated, replaced by a sharp flash of jealousy. Her memory flashed back to the balcony—the silhouette of Alaric and Lyra kissing under the moonlight. Her heart sank. Her flushed face was no longer due to shame, but a cold, burning anger.
"Why? Do you want to brag about it to me?" Elara asked with a nervous, snappy tone. In her mind, wild imaginations began to swirl—thinking of what her perverted sister had done to Alaric when she wasn't looking.
Alaric did not respond to the jab. Instead, he took a step forward and bowed deeply—a full ninety degrees. A gesture of absolute surrender.
"I beg of you... please do not spread word of this to anyone. Especially not to Lady Lunate."
Elara stared at Alaric's bowed back. In truth, she had no intention of snitching. If Lunate found out, Alaric would surely be executed or, at the very least, expelled in a tragic manner. And if Alaric left, Elara would have no "toy" left to watch every night. She had yet to find a replacement who intrigued her as much as the youth before her.
However, seeing Alaric so desperate, the manipulative Kenet blood coursing through Elara's veins reacted. She saw a golden opportunity.
"Very well," Elara said, sipping her cooling tea. She flashed a thin smile, the kind that usually signaled someone was in deep trouble. "But... it won't be that easy. Your secret is very expensive."
Alaric raised his head slightly, looking at Elara with bitter anticipation. "Do you require something of me? Money? Extra duties?"
Elara set her teacup down on the small table beside her. Her eyes locked onto Alaric's with an unsettling intensity. "It's simple. Become my slave."
Silence.
Alaric wasn't surprised. He was already a slave to this family; what difference did it make to add another master? Yet, he still felt bewildered. Behind Elara, her personal servants exchanged glances with pale faces. They knew well that Alaric was the personal property of Lunate Kenet. Taking the eldest sister's slave was a highly risky move.
"Why, My Lady? Am I not already a possession of this house?" Alaric asked, curious.
Elara didn't answer immediately. She intentionally let the awkward silence hang before finally saying, "I just want to be prepared. If one day Sister Luna forbids me from watching you train, I'll have the legal right to stay here as your master. I... I just want to see you work hard."
Alaric was stunned for a moment. "I see."
And so, a new contract was forged. Elara had it ready as if she had planned this from the start. An old parchment was laid upon the table. No black ink was used. Elara drew a small dagger, sliced the tip of her finger, and let fresh red blood drip onto the paper.
Alaric followed suit. His blood seeped into the fibers of the parchment, sealing a four-year contract—the same duration as his original contract with Lunate.
As soon as the contract became valid, something strange happened. Elara didn't act like a tyrant. Instead, the girl grabbed the contract and hugged it to her chest, smiling broadly as if she had just obtained the world's most precious treasure.
Alaric stared at her with a furrowed brow. She's insane, he thought.
Realizing she was being watched by both her servants and Alaric, Elara turned a deep shade of crimson. She quickly stowed the letter into a carved wooden box protected by a special magic seal.
"Just continue your training!" Elara snapped, trying to break the awkward atmosphere with a commanding tone. "I just want to see you drenched in sweat like before. Hurry!"
Alaric bowed slightly, then walked backward awkwardly. He picked up his wooden sword that was stuck in the dirt. As he returned to the center of the field and began to swing his sword, his mind raced.
Just like that? Alaric wondered.
He had been prepared to be tortured. He thought Elara would ask him to do something horrific in exchange for her silence. But she just wanted to watch him train?
This family is truly sick, Alaric thought bitterly. If Lunate is a sadist who loves to trample on dignity, and Lyra is a pervert with no shame... then Elara is a madwoman who is utterly unpredictable.
Alaric's thoughts then drifted to a higher level. If the children were like this, what were their parents like? Baron and Baroness Kenet. To his knowledge, the Baron lived in the capital of Oakhaven, managing royal politics while their children were left to govern this border territory. Alaric never wanted to meet them. To him, one Kenet bloodline was enough to ruin his life.
As he swung his sword for the 12,000th time that night, a cold rage began to creep into his chest. His memory drifted to the past. When he was five, his parents had left him at the Gray Cradle orphanage for no reason. For years, he hated them. But at the age of ten, that grudge faded because he found a new family: the children of the orphanage who shared his fate.
Now, at eighteen, Alaric Vane was a young man living for only one purpose.
Has Mia eaten tonight? Does Lian still cough when the cold air hits the orphanage?
The thought of his younger siblings was the only thing stopping Alaric from slitting the throats of the three Kenet sisters while they slept. He missed them. He missed them terribly. But he had to endure. Three more years. He only had to wait three more years to be free from this hell and return to the embrace of his true family.