Her vision blurred.
The ground seemed to tilt, making her dizzy.
In her mouth, the metallic tang of blood from long ago—swallowed during torture—spread slowly.
It was strange.
She hadn't been hit anywhere now. No injuries. She was breathing just fine.
Yet her body remembered.
That time when someone else hurt in her place while she stood unharmed, and how that had been even more horrific.
And now, that situation was replaying itself.
"Piel, let me ask you one more time. Will you be my friend?"
Syl Argent's voice was genuinely kind, without a hint of pretense.
"Th-that's…!"
"Hehe. It's okay. You can keep thinking about it. Making friends is hard by nature. I understand completely."
Her words were kind. Her expression was kind.
The problem… was her actions alone.
She had no idea how many times it had happened already.
Three? Four? No, more?
Syl's confession to be friends.
Piel unable to answer.
And every time that silence fell—
Pffuk.
A needle slid precisely between the nails of one of Syl's 'friends' standing beside her.
"Thank you, Minerva. I feel better already thanks to you. I love having friends like this."
"N-no… problem… Miss… I-I'm the one… honored…!"
A trickle of blood ran down the finger of the girl called Minerva.
Her face trembled, tears welled up, but her expression stayed smiling to the end.
That smile twisted Piel's stomach.
Her tail curled instinctively under her body.
Sc-scary…
Scary.
Scaryscaryscary…!
She didn't want to see any more.
Not the horrific sound of the needle piercing under the nail, nor the 'smiling faces' of those forced to endure it.
She wanted to escape this place right now. Even on all fours, just run away.
And go back to—
Her master's arms, where he had held her warmly and shared meat on the floor.
Master Lucas had warned her.
Never get close to any of the four heirs of the Argent Family.
Never.
Absolutely never.
But she had thought it seemed 'fine' and broken that taboo herself, excitedly drawing the attention of one of them.
And now, she was paying the price.
Plip. Plip.
"Oh my? Oh dear oh dear oh dear—!!!"
"Hic… sob…!"
It would have been better if she were the one getting punished.
Far more bearable to stab, hit, and torture her own hand.
But now, someone was getting hurt because of her.
And that 'someone's' image overlapped with another.
Amid the slaves trembling and smiling under the needles, what Piel recalled was… her mom.
Her mom, who took the torture meant for her, lost the ability to run, went blind, her body rotting away, yet never lost her smile to the end.
Piel was a slave.
She had no right to tell the lady of the house 'please stop.' And she couldn't betray Master Lucas either.
That would be more terrifying than death.
Unable to do anything, more people suffered in her place as time passed.
Her body shook.
Then Piel's reaction was none other than tears.
Clear droplets fell from beneath her orange eyes, soon flooding down her face.
"S-sorry…! I was wrong, Lady Syl! P-please… punish me instead!"
Those words weren't rebellion—just a desperate cry to save everyone.
But—
"Oh, Piel…!"
Syl's voice trembled.
"How… how can even your crying face be this cute…? Ah, aah!"
The lady's eyes sparkled.
Flowing tears, collapsed posture, trembling shoulders—all seen as lovable through her gaze.
"Sl-slumping down like that… m-my heart's pounding!"
Syl's toes approached right before her eyes.
And the next moment—
As if she'd been holding back, she dropped the bundle of needles to the floor and pulled Piel into a tight hug.
Choking her breath!
"Sorry, Piel… I really didn't mean to make you cry. But how… how can there be a child who cries for others like this? Such pure innocence—you'd never see it in the city. You're completely… a 'gem.'"
"Hic… hueeeng…."
"Yes. Cry in my arms. When a friend cries, you hug them like this. Ah… this moment feels like a gift to me."
Piel just cried.
Even in the arms of the one who made her cry, it felt warmer than expected.
No, more precisely… it was relief that it was 'over.'
Far better to be hugged and soothed like this than to watch someone suffer in her place.
But the peace didn't last.
"Piel."
Syl whispered right by her ear.
"You're right. I won't ask you to be my slave… anymore."
"Th-thank you, Lady Syl…!"
"But—"
Syl's eyes curved slightly.
She was smiling… but it chilled Piel to the bone.
Snap.
As Syl snapped her fingers again, the smiles of the slave ornaments on either side froze instantly.
They parted, making way, and one slave carefully carried out a wooden box from between them.
Her face smiled… but her eyes trembled more than ever before.
"Piel!"
Syl spread her arms wide, calling out joyfully.
"I like you so much! So let's not just be friends—let's be besties!"
"Bes…ties?"
"Yes! Friends among friends! Sharing tastes, favorites… becoming just like each other."
She lightly tapped the wooden box and continued.
"It's time to dye this blank canvas of yours… in my colors, so prettily."
The moment the box opened, Piel's nose twitched.
It was a smell anyone—not just a beastkin—could detect.
Damp iron and the stale fishiness of dried blood.
What Syl pulled out was an 'axe.'
But ridiculously cute.
Ornate decorations and jewels like a child's toy, handle sparkling like a princess accessory.
But the blade was different.
Layer upon layer of dried bloodstains clung beneath the polish.
As if Syl had left them on purpose.
Yes, like a 'medal.'
Syl lifted the axe lightly in one hand and smiled.
This smile was different from before.
The kindness and gentleness evaporated… leaving only madness.
"Piel. I'll show you a demo first. Now, I'm going to chop off one of my friends' fingers with this axe."
"…Yes?"
"Then when I do it, you follow. Besties have to resemble each other, after all."
Piel couldn't speak for a moment.
Terror hit first, enough to knock her out before her brain could form words.
Cut off… a finger? For real… just like that?
That was when it happened.
Schwick.
"Guhk… guhuhk!"
"Oh dear, Laira. Did it hurt a lot? Did I… hurt my friend?"
"Guhk… N-no… it doesn't hurt at all… Miss Syl…!"
Thud. The severed finger hit the ground.
Laira, in her fancy dress today, swallowed ragged breaths with bloodshot eyes, her body convulsing in pain, yet her lips forced into a smile.
The moment Piel saw that pain mixed in the smile, an old nightmare clawed at her throat, choking her.
A long-dormant terror awoke deep in her chest, gripping her heart.
And Syl's eyes.
The blue rippled coldly, a thread of blood mixing in.
Her beautiful pupils twisted into demonic madness for an instant.
"Kyahaha! Friends are the best. They understand no matter what I do."
As Piel instinctively stepped back, Syl closed in instantly and forced the axe—just used—into the fox's palm.
"Now, Piel's turn!"
"H-heh… yes? Wh-what?"
"Hehe. It's fine. They're all my friends, so they'll under~stand this much. Right, everyone?"
The slaves nodded in unison with smiling faces.
Swallowing tears.
Even Laira, missing a finger.
"Y-yes, Miss Syl…."
Piel's fingertips trembled.
It wasn't the axe's weight anymore—the dead-end situation crushed her slender wrist.
"Melda. Come here. Your fingers are so delicate… perfect for a beginner like Piel to chop right off. Right?"
"O-of course, Miss Syl…."
The girl stepped forward on shaking legs.
A cute, petite girl in an orange dress matching Piel's hair stood before Syl.
She clenched her right hand briefly, then silently extended her finger.
Accepting her fate.
Syl pulled Piel's axe-holding hand—with a horrifically gentle face—right above Melda's finger.
"Now, Piel. Just do it."
"N-no… I can't… absolutely not…!"
"Aw, don't be like that~ Ah, nervous? Then let me tell you a fun story to loosen up."
And Syl beamed, as if sharing a secret with a friend.
"Piel. This friend Melda… her whole family—mom, dad, and Melda—were all sold to our Argent Family."
"Th-the whole family?"
"Yes! But I took a liking to Melda. So I promised. 'If Melda stays my friend, I'll protect your parents in my name.'"
Piel swallowed silently.
Syl added casually with a bright smile.
"So Melda's parents are free from slavery now, living in the city."
On the surface, a filial tale.
But to Piel's ears, it sounded like:
'Fail to play friend, and your parents drop back to their old place.'
And Melda knew it too.
So with the uneasy smile unique to those enduring pain, she nodded at Piel staring at her.
'Please do it. Please… I beg you.'
As if her eyes pleaded that.
"Oh my, Melda! Crying from joy at being Piel's first practice partner? How so thoughtful! Piel, you won't… throw away Melda's feelings, right?"
"I-I-I… I…!"
No.
I hate it.
Piel trembled so much the axe nearly slipped from her hand.
She hated the axe, hated cutting Melda's finger, but most of all, hated that she was causing all this.
But refusing would ruin Melda's family because of her.
In the end, Piel squeezed her eyes shut briefly, like swallowing her breath.
As if only one conclusion remained.
"U… uwaaaaaah!"
Her face twisted in tears, a scream-like shout, and the axe swung up high.
The moment her shaking arm brought the blade down—
Grip.
The axe halted midair.
Someone's cold hand had seized the handle from Piel's grip and yanked it away.
And a low, curt word.
"What the hell are you doing here."
Piel jerked her head up.
"M-Master…?"
A 'shadow' fell over Syl Argent's face for the first time.
Her smile shattered, eyes freezing over.
Lucas wrenched the axe from Piel's hand, glanced at her tear-streaked face, then slowly turned to Syl.
And spoke calmly, but with fury boiling beneath.
"…Fuck."
"F…uck?"
"Yeah. You fucking bitch. You? The little shit who made my slave pull this bullshit?"