Where there was light, there would always be shadow. No kingdom, no matter how just or powerful, could exist without harboring its own darkness and malice. Born from the corruption and arrogance of the privileged few—those who believed the world was their birthright—such evil festered and gave form to the kingdom's rotting underbelly.
Slavery—a relic of the past. A stain of such cruelty that even remembering it felt unbearable. Thankfully, the hero-king Mars had reformed this despicable system with his unwavering resolve.
Throughout his life, Mars devoted himself to easing the suffering of the enslaved, gradually lifting them from the depths of their cursed reality.
In the present day, slaves were declared property of the kingdom itself. To harm them was to harm the honor and wealth of the crown—an act punishable by death.
Through laws like these, Mars had transformed the dreaded title of "slave" into something closer to "public servant." For those once doomed to chains, this new order was nothing short of paradise compared to the horrors that came before.
They were paid, given care, and granted yearly checkups and other modest rights. Most importantly, their children were born free—citizens by birth, unburdened by their parents' fate.
It was, in every sense, an ideal outcome… on paper. Yet the world never followed theory, and what seemed perfect in law often crumbled in practice.
As always, reality disappointed.
---
The imperial city of Lustburg was divided into five grand districts.
The Central District was shared between the Holy Church and the Tower of Babel.
The North belonged to the Highland family.
The South, to the Milaris.
The West, to the Travers.
And the East, under the rule of the Gorfards.
Four ducal families, one Holy Church, and one Royal House—together forming the unshakable core of Lustburg's power.
Though each Duke ruled their own territory, their heirs were required to live within the capital until they officially succeeded their titles. Officially, this was to ensure their education and networking among nobles. In truth, it was a means to keep them under the royal family's watchful eye—hostages disguised as protégés.
In the East District stood the grandest castle of the region, the seat of House Gorfard. Though it could not rival the Tower of Babel in splendor, it remained a fortress worthy of a future Duke.
Within its walls lived Leonard Gorfard, the Duke's eldest son and heir.
Those who described him would list countless virtues—his looks, intelligence, charm, strength—so many that one might doubt his humanity. And rightly so, for perfection is a lie.
Leonard was a man of many flaws, yet two words defined him best—arrogant and depraved.
Now, behind the heavy curtains of his room, he pressed a trembling woman down onto a silken bed.
He gripped her pale neck, pulling her back as he relished the flicker of pain in her beautiful face. Her choked cries mixed with his guttural grunts in a cruel symphony of dominance and despair.
"M-my lord… please, forgive me…"
"Hmph! Is that all the famed Blue Wolf can muster? Louder, slut."
When her body went limp and her eyes rolled back, Leonard clicked his tongue in annoyance and tossed her aside like a broken doll. She hit the floor with a dull thud, regaining consciousness only to tremble in pain and humiliation.
Her once flawless body—pale as snow, marked by the ocean-blue of her hair and the furred wolf ears on her head—was now ruined by bruises, bites, and cruel marks.
"If you faint that easily, how can you hope to please me?" he mocked.
"P-please, mercy…" she whimpered, crawling back onto the bed.
"Then earn it. Your life depends on it."
Her desperate pleas went unanswered. Leonard turned away, calling for his attendants to dress him. As she gathered what little dignity she could, the wolf girl covered herself in torn sheets and limped from the room.
"Tch. I'm growing bored of this one," Leonard muttered. "Perhaps it's time for a replacement."
A stern voice broke the silence.
"Your Highness, even jesting about such things is dangerous. If the royal family learns of this, it will not end well."
Leonard scowled. "Don't preach to me, old man. Slaves and peasants exist to serve us. Why make it complicated?"
The butler, stoic as stone, replied evenly, "Perhaps, my lord. But appearances matter."
"Fine, fine. Enough nagging. Now, why are you here? Did you come to watch? Or maybe you want a turn?" Leonard sneered. "She's filthy now, but she cleans up well."
The butler ignored the jab, producing a sealed letter marked with the royal insignia.
"A message from the palace. You are invited to the ceremony at the Colosseum."
Leonard's grin widened, his eyes glinting with malice.
"So, the golden caged prince finally shows his face? How amusing." He chuckled darkly. "It's about time. Are the preparations complete?"
"They are, my lord."
"Good. Then we move soon. It would be a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity."
The Colosseum ceremony—an ancient rite of passage for every crown heir. To interfere with it… would be delicious chaos.
---
Elsewhere, in a quiet and unknown place, an elderly man knelt beside a bed. Upon it lay a young girl in deep sleep, her body veined with pulsing violet lines.
Despite her cursed appearance, the man's eyes held only love and grief.
"My child… forgive me. You've suffered too long. But I've found a way—a cure for your pain. Soon, you'll laugh and run again, just like before."
He brushed a trembling hand over her face, suppressing the tears that welled in his eyes.
Forgive me for what I must do, he thought. If saving you demands I become a devil… then so be it.
---
Time spares no one. The gears of fate turn ceaselessly, driving the world toward an uncertain future.
Whether that future brings salvation or ruin—only time itself can tell.