Neron's POV
After the party was over, I was utterly exhausted as I made my way to my room to finish the last part of my book. Once I completed it, there would be nothing decent left to read. In my room, Lucien was seated in his usual spot on the chair, absorbed in a book. I flung myself onto my bed and hurried to complete the final chapter.
Thud! Finally, after an hour, I closed the book with a final exclamation. With my studies complete, I wondered what to do next.
"Hey, Lucien, do you happen to know about slave traders?"
Lucien glanced up. "Why do you want to know that, young master? Are you perhaps interested in acquiring one at your age? You're not exactly eligible to enter the black market."
I shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but you can just take me with you."
He raised an eyebrow. "Can I ask what you need?"
I explained, "I just finished my 5057 book, and now I don't have anything decent to read. I figured it's time to see the world a little. There's so much to learn beyond books. By the way, how much are your savings?"
Lucien's tone shifted slightly. "Are you planning on putting my funds toward this idea?"
I replied with an innocent smile and a glow of curiosity in my eyes, "Yeah, of course—because that book was very expensive, and my budget's a little tight this year. I'm not asking for freebies; I'll speak with my father and try to raise your salary, please."
He sighed. "Fine. Let us leave then, or it will be past three in the morning."
I leaped from the bed—but not gracefully; I landed with a thud right in front of it, groaning, "Ouch!"
We left my room and made our way from the slumber area, navigating narrow paths between two houses in the village. Soon enough, we arrived at the "Dead Coliseum," a place that reeked of decay and had the eerie odor of a graveyard.
"Why are we here?" I asked.
"Just follow quietly and wear this mask," Lucien murmured, "we need our identities hidden."
We slipped into the Dead Coliseom. Around a lone pillar stood a set of underground stairs leading down. Descending, the area opened up into a brightly lit hall lined with numerous stalls displaying unique items: gems, crystals, enchanted stones, runes, and many more mysterious objects. Some vendors shouted the names of their wares, attracting eager customers.
I wasn't drawn to trinkets—I was searching for someone I could trust, and the best alternative I could think of was a slave. They fear their masters, despise the outer world, yet a little comfort and warmth can inspire fierce loyalty. For example, if I give a loaf of bread to a starving dog, he might respect or even love me; but if I wait until the dog is near death, he will see me not as his master, but as the god who saved him. In the same way, if the outside world is cruel from birth, a person may despise it—but if, suddenly, someone appears to halt that cruelty, they will revere that savior. It is this kind of undying loyalty I intend for my subordinates.
"Young master, we are here. Come inside."
The area was vast, centered around a stage bathed in light, where a formally dressed man—hammer in hand—described the types of slaves available. Numbers were called out as an eager crowd watched intently. We took our place at seat number 107.
"What is that, Lucien?" I asked in a hushed tone.
"You've raised this to bid," he replied dryly.
We settled into our assigned seats as the auction began.
First came a beast man—tall, at 6.5 feet, with a muscular physique—tethered by enchanted chains. Next was an elven woman, around twenty years old. Many families bid for her; clearly, the lustful desires of men were at work. The highest bid soared to around 5,000 gold coins. (For context, one gold coin equals 10 silver, one silver equals 100 bronze, and the highest coin, platinum, equals 1,000 gold coins—an amount that could fund a small village.)
I had my eye on something else, but just as I was about to signal my intent, Lucien pulled me back. Then, she appeared—a small elven child of about four years old with white hair and blue eyes, her frail body shackled. She trembled, her legs weak beneath the heavy chains. But it wasn't her physical weakness that caught my attention—it was her eyes. They were dead, as if filled with despair or destruction. In this world, nothing equaled the allure of something that seemed lost beyond hope. And the best part was that no one else appeared interested in such a product. It would take care and sacrifice—but loyalty, true loyalty, was earned only through sacrifice. I believed that if I could rescue her, she would see me as the one true benefactor.
The bidding began: "Bid starts at 5 gold coins."
"10 gold," I called out.
"15 gold," someone else raised their hand.
"20 gold," I increased my bid.
"What? Twenty gold for a mere child? Foolish!" the crowd whispered.
"Young master, are you sure you want that?" Lucien asked softly.
"Are you losing your trust in me, Lucien?" I glared with dead, cold eyes.
The final count rang out: "20... 21... 22... 3—sold. I win!"
"Let's go home—it's late. I want to sleep."
We returned to the manor around 1 a.m., and without hesitation, I jumped on my bed.
"Good night, young master," Lucien said as he left.
I murmured to myself, "Hmm, I got the one loyal puppy now. It's time to train her. I should devise a regimen… but first, sleep. I haven't slept properly in three days because of these books."
---
Next Day
By noon the following day, I expected my new "puppy" to be ready. I had already formulated an idea for integrating her into the household. I needed to find Lucien first.
"Lucien, where are you?" I yelled throughout the house.
I found Oswin, the head butler, in one of the halls.
"Do you know where Lucien went?" I asked.
He took a moment before replying, "He's gone to pick up a new maid. He found a little girl on the street crying for help. He wants to take her as your personal maid, though she's young and needs training. He said he should be back soon. Is there anything you need, young master?"
"Already gone," I muttered. "I want to meet her first. But in the meantime, I must make my room look as grand as possible." I grinned to myself. "I've acquired some fake golden-looking items—a glass table and chair—to fool the others."
"Nothing, young master," Oswin said, eyeing me curiously.
I watched him go, thinking about how much Lucien cared for me. With that thought, I rushed back to my room. I redecorated it in a royal manner—everything appeared grand and regal even if the materials were mere imitations. My special chair was placed right in front of a large window; the view and setting needed to make a grand impression.
---
Lucien's POV
There's a reason why I carry out my duties with such delight.
1. The potential I see in my young master is extraordinary. If he becomes the head of the house, he will be cunning and relentless. If he sees me merely as expendable, I might be done for—but if he values me as an ally, the rewards for both of us could be immense.
2. His cold gaze during the auction, that steely glare of ambition, convinces me that he will do whatever it takes to achieve his dreams.
Yet, to be honest, I feel fear every time his dead, piercing look falls upon me. It's as if every cold stare is a blow—an indication that he's losing hope in me. The more he sees me as useless, the closer I come to feeling disposable. I'm a 20-year-old adult, yet I still tremble at the glare of a five-year-old master. The world is indeed unfair.
As I made my way toward the backside of the coliseum, I saw her—the little girl I was meant to retrieve.
"Hello, what is your name?" I asked softly.
"Do you know how to talk?" I probed further. There was no response. I suspected that the young master might have already made up his mind about her.
"Let's go," I ordered. "Really, does she not know how to speak?" I called out to a nearby guard. "How do I give her orders?"
I raised my hand and cracked a whip across her back. "Go, damn brat!" I snapped.
I fixed her with a cold glare. "Do you want to die?" I hissed. The girl shivered from the sting of my words. "My apologies, but this is the only way to command her."
I carried her back toward the manor. "Let me take her to the young master first," I thought, "he will be angry if he finds her injured."
When I opened the door to the young master's room, I paused—I doubted this was truly his room. It was filled with an abundance of items, and he sat in a chair reminiscent of a royal emperor.
"Young master, she is here," I announced.
"You may leave, Lucien. I will talk to her myself," Neron said curtly.
"Very well, young master," I replied with resignation as I turned away, grumbling about the little brat who so irksomely complicated my duty.
---
Neron's POV
I fixed my gaze on the trembling girl and said, "So, you're the one. What is your name? Speak… Do you know whose presence you are in? Do you even have a name, girl?"
For a moment, her head lifted ever so slightly before dropping again. "It seems you do not have a name," I observed. I reached out and placed my hand on her chin, lifting her head gently. "I will give you one from now on. You shall be known as Hina."
"Hi… Na…" she stuttered, caught off guard by my sudden authority.
"Yes, Hina," I repeated firmly. "That is your identity, a name I bestow upon you. From now on, you work for me—your master. I don't know what has happened to you, but I can assure you: I do not invest in failure. If you are chosen by me, consider yourself lucky—you have achieved something many people only dream of."
She turned toward me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Why are you just standing there? Sit and look up at me. What do you see in my eyes?"
---
Hina's POV
His eyes are warm—unlike the others who always regard me with cold indifference. I remember his sharp gaze; it terrifies me, yet somehow I feel warmth when I meet it.
"Now, tell me your name," he said, his hand resting on his cheek.
"My name… what was it again? Hina… yes, Hina," I whispered, repeating the name he had given me.
"What are you afraid of, Hina? Tell your master," he coaxed with a gentle smile, patting my head.
"I am scared of people," I admitted softly.
"Do you feel scared when you see me?" he asked.
"No… I don't know… why…I don't feel scared of you. I feel warm, I feel good—something I have never experienced before."
"See? You don't need to be afraid. Trust me and follow the path I have laid for you, and you will never fear anything in this life again, Hina," he said, raising his hand toward me in assurance.
I hesitated—something unthinkable stirred within me as I tentatively accepted his outstretched hand. It felt unfamiliar, yet good.
Then he added, "For now, you only need to speak to my father. If you truly want to be mine, you must convince him. This is your first mission, and as a reward, I will grant you one wish. You may ask for whatever you desire."
"Lucien, you may take her to my father now," he commanded.
---
Lucien led Hina through the grand hall until we reached a door on the right side of the corridor. Lucien opened it to reveal a modest room: a table, chairs, some books and papers, and, in front of a window, a man gazing outside. This must be my father.
Lucien pushed Hina forward and closed the door behind us. Still processing the sudden responsibility placed upon her, she stood silently until the man spoke.
"What do you seek, little girl?" he asked in a deep, measured tone.
My mind went blank; fear welled up inside me. But then, a smile from my master returned my courage, and I managed to say, "I wish to serve my Lord."
The man gazed at her. I couldn't bear to meet his eyes, yet I did not feel afraid. Finally, he said, "You may go. I accept you as the maid to serve my son well."
---
After an hour, I heard soft footsteps and the clear sound of Hina's measured words as she announced her presence and began to clean. Though she struggled to converse with others—even my father—she managed to persevere. It was only a matter of time before she believed that I, Neron Valmore, was the key to her survival. In truth, I suspected that she had been abandoned from birth, without a name, and that the one who once picked her up was cruel. Likely, she was once treated as a servant, even beaten for neglect, and then sold at auction where she was barely kept alive. Now that I had given her a name, I intended to show her a modicum of comfort—enough so that she would remember the coldness of the world. When a person grows too comfortable, it becomes difficult to think clearly. I needed that harshness; it was the treatment she deserved, and she would do anything I commanded.
Later, I passed by Lucien's room and found him training doing push in the flat ground for me to become the strongest I need strongest mind and body as well.
Lucien teach me scythe
End of the Chapter 2