A mixture of emotions shimmered within her, circling like a loaded chamber. With every click of Silvie's heels drawing her closer to her new mistress, she knew she was gambling with fate.
The name 'Evelyn.' Silvie found elegance within it. She murmured the name to herself as she walked, the vowels E-ve-lyn resonating upon her lips.
Yet she was no fool. Even if Evelyn was the evening's melancholy of dusk, the very personification of velvet, she was still a stranger.
"Lady Evelyn, what are your true colors?" It was only common sense to remain cautious.
Silvie was escorted by guards in decorated red uniforms from the stage to the floor. Her gaze couldn't help but fell upon the numerous slaves that had been sold.
It was a heart-wrenching scene. All slaves, by definition, were beautiful. However, a horrifying realization hit her, for she rarely saw a slave with a satisfied smile, and the majority wore tormented expressions.
In this world, to bear beauty was to bear its price...
She turned her eyes away, unwilling to gaze upon the explicit. Interestingly, she had no recollection of ever interacting with any of the slaves. She couldn't even remember a single name.
Yet her steps... stopped. She found herself bowing, the motion felt similar to a rehearsed movement. There was no thought behind it; it was pure ingrained practice.
Then her mouth moved: "My lady, my name is Silvie... I'm pleased to meet you." She was unaware that this was a resignation to servitude, not until her eyes were drawn to the flawless visage of her mistress.
Upon raising her head, she gave a patient, detailed look. Lady Evelyn, with her dark glasses, wore an exquisite velvet lace maxi dress. The neckline was a standard collar, the hem shaped in a flare, high-waisted, A-line, with a visible silver zipper. The pattern was plain and color-blocked, sleeveless, revealing her smooth shoulders. It was a regular fit, with knitted fabric of 91% polyester and 9% elastane, lined with 95% polyester and 5% elastane, semi-sheer, and by the looks of it, with a fabric elasticity of medium stretch.
Her violet hair was tied in a high ponytail. With heels to boast, her flawless skin and refined attire reflected her status. Silvie wouldn't be surprised if she were nobility.
But one thing stood out the most: her well-defined, exposed collarbone. It complemented her entire femininity, marking her as a mature and graceful woman.
"Is my presence a blessing to your eyes?" The mature voice registered in Silvie's ears, breaking her reverie as she came face to face with Lady Evelyn.
"My lady, you are the very image of elegance..." Silvie replied, playing her cards carefully. Compliments were a safe choice, a small, prudent step toward fostering this newly formed bond.
Lady Evelyn answered with a soft smile and extended her slim arms, offering Silvie her hand. The slave's delicate palm promptly met hers.
Yet, a cold was felt...
The moment their hands made contact, an eerie detail surfaced: Lady Evelyn's hand was hollow. It had a peculiar texture. Silvie felt awful for even noticing it...
It was similar to that of a long-forgotten corpse...
"What's the matter?" Lady Evelyn asked, noticing the disturbance in her eyes, Silvie wasn't quite sure whether to speak out her opinion for fear of offending her.
The cold sensation unsettled her, but she refrained from voicing her concerns; after all, it would be an awful first impression to ask something so bold.
"A little shy, are we, Silvie? I would so love to hear your lovely voice... come now, let your heart speak."
The slave gently released her mistress's hand, aware that even the slightest motion might draw Lady Evelyn's attention. She concealed the act seamlessly, weaving it into a delicate gesture with both hands as if part of her speech.
"My lady, thank you for choosing me, and for saving me from the hands of..." But within a heartbeat, she felt his ominous gaze.
To their left, Karlen Magnus stared at them with a hostile glare, still seething as his peers indulged in sweets and chocolates, mocking his loss against the Lady of Velvet.
He wasn't the only one Silvie noticed. As her gaze fell on Karlen Magnus's slave, a girl with brown hair, dressed in a formal gown, who wore a sorrowful expression.
Their eyes met, and in that moment, the difference was clear: two slaves, one fortunate, the other held hostage by misfortune.
Lady Evelyn, on the other hand, seemed to be giving orders to a few men in black suits, whispering into their ears.
Silvie couldn't quite decipher what they were discussing. At the same time, Lady Evelyn met Karlen Magnus's gaze across the hall, holding a condescending look, almost daring him to make a move, but he remained unmoving with his bitter expression.
"Silvie, ignore that man-child. Shall we go?" Lady Evelyn said, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.
"Yes, My Lady..." Silvie trailed Lady Evelyn through the clumps of aristocrats, the nobility's eyes landing on them as they passed. The scent of cocktails and perfume mingled in the air, leaving behind the oppressive presence of Magnus Karlen.
The outfits of the attendees were raucous, despite the extravagance of the setting, it felt like a fancy funeral, the majority of the mourning couture in purple, red and black.
In the background, the auction continued. Silvie longed to depart as quickly as possible, to let it all fade away like an unimportant memory.
"My lady, where are we?" Silvie asked, her mind brimming with questions.
Lady Evelyn regarded her with concerned eyes. "We are at the Velvet Pavilion, the most prominent slave market in Gravenhurst. Silvie... how did you become a slave without knowing that?"
Her mistress had a point. Silvie tried to recall anything of her past, but to no avail, not even a faint trace surfaced.
Only her vexing migraine responded. She placed her hand on her head, massaging in gentle, circular motions across her forehead. Slowly, the pain eased, and the act brought a satisfying relief.
"I remember nothing, My lady." At her words, Lady Evelyn fell into deep intrigue, though Silvie couldn't tell whether it was concern or curiosity.
"Wait here," her mistress instructed.
Silvie nodded in agreement; however, she felt tired, her stomach growling with hunger. She leaned against a dark pillar for support as waiters and waitresses in black-and-white suits moved gracefully through the opulent hallways, serving gourmet dishes to the aristocrats seated at lavish violet and crimson banquet tables.
She noticed children wandering about, accompanied by their parents. The little girls were being treated like princesses, showered with affection and luxury by their rich parents.
Silvie woefully watched from a distance, reflecting on how different their lives were from her own, though she did not harbor a hint of envy.
"I'm happy for them..."
She witnessed her mistress approach one of the slave owners. An attempt to eavesdrop was made, but it was rather difficult to make out their conversation due to the loud noise of chattering in the hall.
Lady Evelyn asked for permission to speak with one of the newly brought slaves, and it seemed she was granted her small request. She knelt before the slave to listen closely, ear to ear.
After some time, Lady Evelyn elegantly stood up, pulled out a few gold crowns, and gave them to the slave's master as compensation before departing. Shortly after, she returned to Silvie.
"How intriguing."
"It appears that every slave has had their memory erased, through a drug." Lady Evelyn remarked with interest.
The mistress then fixed Silvie a serious look. "Silvie, do you have any idea what you truly are?"
"...I'm your slave, My Lady," Silvie replied, yet a part of her recoiled at the thought of uncovering the truth about herself.
"A slave is an ugly title. Address yourself as a servant..." her lady commanded, and Silvie obeyed without protest, as she preferred it this way.
"Is it difficult for you, not remembering anything?" Lady Evelyn said, her voice thoughtful.
There was a miss within Silvie's heart, and whatever once filled it was important enough that it left a long-lasting impression even in its absence.
"It doesn't trouble me, Lady Evelyn," Silvie instinctively steered away from the truth, dodging any further questions.
Lady Evelyn studied her intently. Mirroring a mother's warmth, softening her tone, she promised, "Whatever it is you've lost, perhaps one day... I'll help you find it..."
Silvie was taken aback by the offer; she had never imagined her mistress would concern herself with such troubles. "Thank you, Lady Evelyn," she whispered, genuine gratitude at her mistress's kindness.
This was a first step in developing trust between them...
Yet, Silvie was intrigued by why Lady Evelyn was interested in unraveling her past. To Silvie, she was a mere slave, and Lady Evelyn buying one must mean she needed one for a purpose, whether mundane or not.
"Well..." Lady Evelyn's eyes darted around warily.
"It seems like we have some stalkers," she leaned in and whispered to Silvie's delicate ears.
The servant felt Lady Evelyn's soft breath, which sent shivers down her spine; a sense of danger was palpable...
Chapter End...