Kael folded the worn newspaper slowly, his fingers deliberate, thoughtful.
Then he turned to Renald, eyes calm but unreadable.
"I want her," he said quietly.
Renald blinked, as if unsure he'd heard correctly.
"Pardon, young master?"
Renald hesitated, his brows drawing in.
"Her family was just stripped of nobility. Acquiring her… It would be controversial."
Kael turned to him slowly. His tone was calm, but iron lay beneath the surface.
"I'm taking her as a slave, Renald. Not a guest. Not a ward. There won't be a scandal."
His gaze sharpened.
"You just follow my orders."
There was a long pause.
Renald, ever the dutiful shadow, gave a small, stiff nod.
"As you command, young master."
Kael turned back toward the exit of the market, his boots echoing against the cold stone. The night air outside would be clearer than the stench of rust and chains within—but only just.
"Let's go home," he muttered.
Behind him, Renald followed silently, already calculating the threads he would need to pull.
***
Arinelle Elvire POV
She hadn't cried.
Not when the guards kicked down the door to their ancestral estate.
Not when her father was dragged through the mud by men who once bowed before him.
Not even when the crest of House Elvire—the star crowned in silver and flame—was torn from the gate and thrown into the gutter.
But now?
Now she sat on a stone floor that reeked of damp wood, straw, and unwashed skin. Her wrists bore faint red rings where the manacles had rubbed. Her uniform from the academy was gone, replaced with a threadbare tunic two sizes too large.
The worst part wasn't the cold.
It was the silence.
Magic hummed faintly in her blood, dulled by the suppression collar fastened to her neck. Like trying to remember the shape of a melody through a wall.
They called her prodigy. Stormweaver. Scholar of the Arcane Peak.
Now she was inventory.
A numbered name in a ledger, behind a lock, waiting for someone to decide what she was worth.
Footsteps passed outside her cell. She didn't flinch.
She kept her spine straight. Her chin raised.
Arinelle Elvire, daughter of Count Selvaris Elvire, did not bend.
Not yet.
She stared at the wall opposite her, at a crack she'd memorized the shape of. Her hands curled into fists.
They won't keep me here. I will not be someone's property.
But even she knew the truth: without mana, without allies, without a name… she was exactly that.
And someone was coming.
***
The auction hall smelled like sweat, burnt incense, and crushed dreams.
Mostly the last one.
Kael stepped in with all the grace of a bored noble on a field trip. His coat swished behind him like it was allergic to dirt, and his boots hit the floor with a confidence that said I've killed at least one person and gotten away with it—which, to be fair, he had.
Slaves glanced up instinctively, then looked away. Some in fear, some in disinterest, one in what might've been hunger.
Renald followed behind, ever the reluctant chaperone to his young master's descent into moral bankruptcy.
"Try not to antagonize anyone important," he whispered.
Kael flashed him a sunny smile. "No promises."
The auctioneer paused when he saw Kael—tall, dark-haired, wearing a noble's cloak like he'd stolen it off a prince. Handsome, in that irritating way villains always were just before monologuing.
"Young lord!" the auctioneer bowed with the enthusiasm of a man who'd sell his own mother if you asked nicely.
"Interested in something rare? Dangerous? Barely legal?"
Kael gave him a look. "Surprise me."
They walked past cages, iron-barred cells, and the occasional glass tank (because some people liked buying exotic and aquatic). Kael inspected the stock with all the concern of a man choosing furniture.
He hummed once. Sighed twice. Said nothing.
Then—
He stopped.
One cell. One girl.
She sat on the floor, posture perfect despite the filth, her silver hair a tangled halo around her neck. Her face, even streaked with dust, looked carved from nobility.
Not noble enough, apparently.
The collar on her neck said slave. The fire in her eyes said not for long.
Kael tilted his head.
"Is that… Arinelle Elvire?" he asked.
The auctioneer beamed.
"Indeed! Former Count's daughter. Magic prodigy. Bit of a temper, but—"
"I'll take her."
"Of course, my lord, we can begin the paperwork—"
"No," Kael said, flashing a smile that made Renald's stomach sink. "I mean now. Tag her. Collar her. She's mine."
From her cell, Arinelle met his gaze with something between murder and disbelief.
Kael winked.
She did not wink back.
The auctioneer, eager to please (and eager to avoid sudden death by noble tantrum), clapped his hands twice.
Assistants came scurrying in with a satchel of magical implements—collar tools, binding scrolls, glowing sigils etched into brass.
"Please, my lord, the ceremony won't take long," he chirped, like this was a wedding and not the magical enslavement of a former noble prodigy.
Arinelle was pulled from the cell, shackles clinking as she stepped forward—proud, chin lifted, despite the rags on her back and the dirt on her cheek. Her glare never left Kael. If looks could kill, he would've spontaneously combusted five minutes ago.
Kael gave her a lazy smile.
"You know, usually when girls look at me like that, I've at least bought them dinner first."
She didn't speak.
She just continued staring like she was inventing a curse with her eyes.
The binding circle was drawn, glowing faintly beneath her feet. The collar was swapped—iron for something sleeker, magical, designed to mark true ownership.
Runes flickered across the air, the spell slowly stitching itself around her presence.
Kael stepped forward, placing his hand on the control glyph as required.
"Speak your name," the mage overseeing the rite instructed Arinelle.
"Arinelle Elvire," she said coldly.
A pulse of light passed between them. The collar sealed.
It was done.
"Congratulations, my lord," the auctioneer said, half-bowing. "The bond is complete. She is yours in body, action, and oath."
Kael turned to Arinelle, still watching him like she was counting the ways she could kill him in his sleep.
He clapped his hands, grinning.
"Well, welcome to the team."
Renald sighed again. It was going to be a long week.