“…A slave?”

“Think of it as a gift I bestow upon you. Handsome enough that his price was set rather high. I grant you ownership of him.”

Recalling the past, Alexio clicked his tongue out of habit once again.

The youngest princess of Vertia had a peculiar hobby of collecting handsome slaves. The king, weary of such a distasteful pastime, had clearly foisted onto him a slave the princess had intended to buy.

And the only reason? One of Alexio’s daughters happened to be staying in Pellcio.

‘Because of that girl Razel, I’ve ended up saddled with something useless.’

Alexio despised slaves—lowborn, filthy things that might carry contagious diseases. To him, they were nothing more than parasites.

Yet since the slave had been gifted by the king himself, Alexio couldn’t simply discard him.

‘Always misfortune, nothing else.’

As he thought of his second daughter, shaking his head, a sudden idea struck him.

‘If the boy has no grave defects, I’ll make use of him. After all, Razel will need attendants at her side.’

She would need several handmaids and servants, and this wretch could serve well enough as one of them.

Useless as he was, the boy could still run errands. And since he was a royal gift, assigning him to his newly recovered daughter provided ample justification, while sparing the use of more fitting retainers.

‘Yes. That will do nicely.’

Having finally decided upon the boy’s use, Alexio felt lighter. He drew out a cigar and set it between his lips.

***

It was late afternoon when Alexio returned.

At once, the carriages departed for the lands of Count Epor. Beside Razel’s own carriage stood another carriage, strange and unfamiliar.

By the time they reached Epor Castle the next day at noon, Razel was steeped in wonder.

‘I’ve truly come back here…’

From the moment the carriage windows began to frame long-missed landscapes, she hadn’t been able to look away.

“Welcome home, Razel.”

She had barely set foot on the ground, still trembling with emotion, when Alexio spoke.

Razel, eyes bright with excitement, looked up at him.

“Father, what about Mother? And my sister?”

She blinked, searching eagerly for the family she had not seen in so long. Yet, it seemed only the servants had gathered to greet her. Neither her mother nor her sister appeared.

“Well, they must be too busy to come.”

“Oh…”

“They’re occupied with their own duties, but you’ll surely see them at supper.”

The Count spoke lightly, patting her shoulder. Though disappointed, Razel’s attention was quickly diverted by his next words.

“By the way, I have a gift for you, child.”

“A gift?”

His gaze turned past her to where servants bustled around the wagons.

“Ah, there he comes.”

Razel followed his gaze.

A servant appeared, bringing someone along—or more accurately, dragging them in tow.

Though dressed in new clothes, the boy’s hair was unkempt, and his hands were bound. Nothing about him resembled a servant.

Razel, who had never seen such a sight before, stared blankly.

Chuckling, Alexio explained.

“A fine slave, granted to me personally by His Majesty as recognition of my service. To mark your return, I give him to you as your personal attendant. From now on, let him handle your errands and menial tasks.”

My attendant? This?

Razel blinked, her eyes narrowing on the figure dragged before her.

He was a boy about her height. Just then, he raised his head slightly. His hunched posture had made him seem timid, but when their gazes met, his eyes were far from meek.

Cold, piercing blue—like winter itself. Harsh, and yet startlingly beautiful.

Razel found herself lost in his gaze far too long, until the sharp stench clinging to him made her recoil.

‘That smell… Is it coming from him?’

The realization shocked her. She had always heard her father say slaves were filthy and lowly, yet she had never expected the stench to be so vile.

‘He doesn’t even look that unkempt…’

She tried to breathe as little as possible, and took a step back. For an instant, she thought their eyes had locked again.

“Yesterday, while you were preparing to leave, I departed briefly to bring this one for you. As it happened, he was in Pellcio as well. A fitting match, I thought.”

“…I see.”

“Use him as you like. Put him to work, or torment him if he displeases you. He’s yours now.”

Razel glanced once more at the boy before turning her gaze back to her father. With a sweet smile, she slipped her arm through his.

“Thank you for the gift, Father. I’ll treasure it.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“That aside, I’d like to look around the house now. It feels so cold standing here.”

“Of course. After all you’ve regained, we wouldn’t want your strength to waver.”

But the image of those jewel-blue eyes lingered in her mind.

Even so, without another look back at the boy, Razel entered Epor Castle at her father’s side.

Though given by His Majesty and gifted by her father, he was still nothing more than a filthy, lowly slave. No one had meant for her to cherish him.

Razel thought nothing of it.

She never imagined that this mere slave would one day upend her entire life—nor that she would come to surrender everything to him.

“Oh, Razel!”

It was evening when her sister at last appeared. Ronedi’s eyes widened as she hurried toward her.

“How long has it been?”

Ronedi’s eyes swept over Razel, her smile blooming like a flower.

Though Razel was pretty, her elder sister, nearing adulthood, carried a radiance and maturity beyond her reach.

Unlike Razel—who took after their late mother—Ronedi resembled their father, and the contrast between them was stark.

“It’s been a year since you last came to Pellcio,” Razel answered promptly.

“Heavens, has it truly been that long? It feels as though I saw you only yesterday.”

Ronedi’s surprise stung. To Razel, it sounded as if her sister hadn’t missed her at all.

‘Well, we were never close… Perhaps it can’t be helped. Her days are busy and unbound, while mine has been so confined…’

Indeed, she saw her family no more than once or twice a year.

Sensing Razel’s disappointment, Ronedi slipped an affectionate arm around hers, speaking brightly as she led her toward the dining hall.

“I heard you’d arrived this afternoon, but I couldn’t come—I was out walking the puppy.”

“…Puppy?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? I’ve been raising a small dog recently. Father and Mother dote on him endlessly. He’s so fond of taking walks, and you happened to arrive right then, so…”

So even a dog takes priority over me?

Confusion clouded Razel’s thoughts until they reached the dining hall.

As Ronedi chattered on about her puppy, Razel looked up to see the Countess arrive.

“Ah… Good evening, Mother…”

She stiffened at once.

The Countess, Clonda Epor, was Razel’s stepmother. Her real mother—frail like Razel herself—had died long ago.

If even her father and sister felt distant, how much more must a stepmother be?

Clonda’s sharp, upturned eyes swept over her before she spoke in a curt tone.

“Welcome home, Razel.”

Though her words said those, her expression did not. Razel shrank.

“You’re here, Mother! Oh—I nearly forgot, I had something to tell you…”

Unlike Razel, Ronedi greeted her warmly, chatting as if nothing were amiss.

‘Conversations I know nothing of…’

Though the awkward air dispersed, Razel alone felt apart, standing at a distance none of them noticed.

She had to make repeated efforts just to slip words into their talk.

Soon after, Alexio entered the dining hall.

“Ah, everyone’s gathered. Come, let us dine.”

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