"Ah," Kael nodded. "So honest. Definitely not broken. That's refreshing."
Renold, standing behind him, cleared his throat again, less politely this time.
Kael glanced back. "What? I'm bonding."
Kael's tone shifted—serious now, stripped of all pretense.
"I want you to work under me."
Selene looked up from the floor, face unreadable.
"Just say it directly. You're here to buy me."
He said nothing.
Because she was right.
No matter how noble his reasons, no matter the magic contracts or technicalities—this was still slavery. And he was still the buyer.
Kael sighed, quietly. "Renold," he said, without looking back, "give us a moment. I want to speak to her alone."
Renold hesitated. "But, Master, if she tries—"
"She won't," Kael cut in firmly, then turned to Selene, his voice softer but unwavering. "Right?"
Her lips curled slightly—not a smile, but something close. Her eyes shimmered with defiant light.
"Why don't you test that, my Lord?"
Kael met her gaze without flinching. "Maybe I already am."
Renold hesitated one last time, then gave a reluctant salute and stepped out, the door closing with a soft thud behind him.
Silence settled in the room.
Kael took a breath, then slowly lowered himself to one knee—bringing himself level with her. The cold floor bit through the fabric of his trousers, but he didn't flinch.
Selene's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression guarded.
"Actually," Kael said, voice quieter now, "we're not so different."
She raised an eyebrow, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.
"Oh? Are you saying you're a pitiful slave too, my lord?"
Her words were sharp, but her voice trembled ever so slightly.
Emotion cracked at the edge of her voice—anger, grief, and the deep exhaustion of someone who had nothing left to lose.
Kael didn't speak right away.
He simply looked at her—really looked. Not as a slave. Not as the disgraced daughter of a count. But as a person sitting in the dirt, who still managed to carry herself with dignity.
And even as his eyes traced her face—moonlight pale skin, sharp brows, lips too proud to beg—he found himself momentarily mesmerized.
She was beautiful. Devastatingly so. But he shook the thought from his mind like a man waking from a dream. Now wasn't the time.
He knelt a little closer, lowering his voice.
"You probably won't believe this, but… I survived a poisoning. Barely."
Her brows drew together, something shifting in her guarded expression.
Kael went on, carefully. "I suspect my dear brother. Power struggles have already begun. If I don't have people I can trust—loyal, capable—next time, I might not be so lucky."
Selene studied him, uncertain.
Kael's eyes didn't leave hers. "And if I do become Duke… we can prove you're not the traitor's daughter they painted you to be. We can show them the truth."
For the first time, hope flickered faintly in her expression.
Fragile. Dangerous.
"I'll never treat you as my slave, Selene," he said softly. "You'll be my first subordinate. The one who stood beside me when everything else was burning."
He extended his hand to her. Palm open.
A quiet offer.
Not freedom.
But maybe… a future.
Selene stared at the hand extended toward her.
It was clean. Steady. Uncalloused. A noble's hand.
Everything in her screamed not to take it.
'He's still one of them. Still part of the world that shackled me for a crime I didn't commit. That killed my father. That paraded my name through the mud.'
But something in his eyes… wasn't.
Not pity. Not lust. Not that thin, self-righteous kindness nobles liked to wear like perfume.
Just quiet determination. And something almost resembling… respect?
'Am I really considering this? Trusting someone again?'
She glanced at his hand, then back to his face.
'Well, Selene, it's either this or rot until someone with fewer words and worse breath buys you.'
With a sigh, she reached out and clasped his hand.
Firm. Not trembling.
"Good speech," she said dryly. "Almost made me forget you're buying me."
Kael smirked. "I practiced."
She snorted, a dry laugh escaping despite herself.
Soon, the door creaked open and Renold stepped in, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked between Kael and Selene.
Behind him waddled the slave master, his smug grin firmly in place, eyes twinkling with amusement.
Renold gave a short nod.
"Negotiations are complete, my lord. Final price—one thousand gold coins."
Kael blinked. "A thousand?"
That was all of it. Every last coin he had. He was officially broke. Not just "tight on funds" broke—proper, full-blown, sleep-on-rocks broke.
He let out a long sigh. "And the reason?"
The master chuckled, rubbing his hands together.
"The market's been buzzing about sex slaves lately—plenty of enthusiasts out there, if you catch my drift."
He leaned in, lowering his voice to a lecherous whisper. "You know, magic users make surprisingly enduring companions."
Kael's eyes flicked briefly toward Selene. She was watching him intently—no, staring—and, oddly, he felt a small pang of unease, like one wrong move would shatter the careful image he'd built.
Not on the first day. Not now.
Clearing his throat, Kael snapped, "Make it quick."
Not because he wasn't interested—quite the opposite—but because, for reasons he couldn't explain, Selene's gaze unsettled him more than it should.
The fat master blinked, surprised by Kael's curt tone, but shrugged and busied himself with the ritual scroll.
Symbols ignited in eerie blue light, swirling and tightening around Selene's wrists and neck, binding her with invisible chains of magic.
Kael watched silently as the ritual sealed the contract.
She was now his slave—officially.
But the fire in her eyes told him one thing loud and clear:
She was no one's possession.