Riorem returned to the room with his master.
As soon as the master sat down on the sofa, Riorem bent down to fetch some water and was about to step back.
But the master stopped him.
“Riorem.”
“…Yes, milady?”
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Startled.
Riorem’s body trembled greatly.
“Hurt anywhere?”
He had never seen the master ask another slave such a thing—not even the maids or the knights.
So why was he being asked this?
Without realizing it, Riorem clenched his fingertips.
Perhaps this kind of treatment was what made him burn with irreverent passion.
Trying to ignore the heavy feeling growing in his lower body, Riorem lowered his head.
“No.”
“What about the blood on your hand?”
“That was… originally blood from the sword.”
It was probably the blood of the slave sacrificed to Prince Alpheios before Riorem appeared with his master.
The master looked at Riorem and then spoke aloud to the maids outside the door.
“Consider that I have returned to the bedroom.”
“Understood.”
Neither the maids outside nor Riorem himself before the master could guess why the master gave such an order.
But no one questioned it. The master of this palace had made them like that.
In that strange freedom, the master called Riorem closer.
“Riorem.”
“…Yes.”
“You did very well.”
The master whispered in a soft voice.
Riorem felt his shoulders trembling.
Because the master whispering like that seemed genuinely… pleased.
“They probably wouldn’t have given you a sword at the temple. How did you come up with the idea to use it like that?”
“…I just blocked it however I could.”
“The thought to cut Alpheios’s hair was also just on a whim?”
The master smiled gently.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen Alpheios make that expression. What do they call it… shame?”
“He raged, thinking that killing you in front of me would end everything, but you toyed with his throat instead. It must have been truly humiliating.”
Irreverently, Riorem hardly listened to the master’s words. Most of it didn’t really sink in.
He only focused on the master’s voice itself. The master’s voice was unusually warm and whispered closely, as if…
‘It sounds excited.’
Riorem unconsciously clutched his chest.
Was it because it was the first time hearing the master’s voice like this? Although the master wore the
usual smile, his throat burned painfully, and his chest tightened painfully inside.
The pain was too much to bear.
So Riorem unknowingly opened his mouth and spoke.
“Are you… pleased?”
Golden eyes stared quietly at Riorem.
They didn’t seem to hold any displeasure or coldness. So Riorem forced out the words stuck in his throat with difficulty.
“Are you pleased that I cut Prince Alpheios’s hair?”
“Did I… make you… happy?”
His head was clearly not right.
He had swung the sword for the first time to stop Prince Alpheios who tried to kill him.
He still clearly remembered the master’s foot pressing on his groin.
That’s why he was saying this.
Daring to ask the master’s feelings without permission. Such an insolent thing.
It wouldn’t be strange if a slap landed on his cheek now.
Or if suddenly a flower vase smashed on his head, covering it in blood.
But strangely… the master did not do such a thing.
He just looked down at Riorem quietly, blinking as if lost in thought.
After a long moment, the master’s red lips moved.
“I see.”
Unlike before, there was no heat or excited feeling in the voice.
It was calm, like reading poetry, the usual voice with no emotional intensity at all.
In that voice, the master murmured,
“So this is joy.”
The master smiled at Riorem.
Riorem stared blankly at that face.
On the face that always carried a flawless, picture-perfect beautiful smile, now appeared a less perfect smile.
Somewhat mischievous, and honestly close to raw.
With that smile, the master laughed out loud.
“So this is what they call joy—not the kind felt when seeing servants begging for forgiveness in tears.”
“It’s not bad.”
The master leaned back on the sofa.
Then whispered to the slave who had dared to judge his feelings with such insolence,
“Would a foot do again?”
Riorem swallowed.
“…An award, sir?”
“Yes.”
The master asked again in a gentle voice,
“You dealt a blow to Alpheios and learned what this feeling is called.”
“Then of course you should be rewarded again.”
Facing that smile, Riorem nodded slightly.
“…That will do.”
“Good.”
The master laughed.
“Now that everything is said, go do your task.”
Saying that, the master crossed his legs.
His dirt-covered foot wobbled in front of him.
Riorem couldn’t take his eyes off that foot.
Still, he diligently asked about his duty.
“Should I prepare new shoes as well?”
“Yes.”
“Understood.”
Riorem bowed deeply and stepped back.
As he went to fetch a bucket, Riorem thought,
‘…What if he dirties himself while washing his feet?’
After Prince Alpheios’s disgraceful behavior, a strange peace lingered in Pelvice Palace.
The number of times the palace’s master beat slaves to death dropped exponentially.
No one knew why, so at first, everyone was uneasy.
But as the number of slaves dying and being carried away decreased, and new slaves didn’t need to be brought in even after a month had passed, everyone began to relax and enjoy the situation.
But late spring heading into summer was the social season.
In other words, it was time for Duke Peroa, who had just sold his eldest daughter at a good price, to look for new business.
The search for a son-in-law by Duke Peroa was an annual event, but this year was different.
Until now, no matter how much he boasted about his daughters, it was never certain when they’d be sent off.
But this year, he had just sold one.
In other words, he wasn’t just testing the waters—he was seriously intending to sell.
Moreover, the item to be sold this season was decided.
The second daughter of the three sisters, the most beautiful and talented.
Chernea Antoinetta del Peroa.
Naturally, invitations to the ball hosted by Duke Peroa were sent to every country.
Those who responded with attendance intentions accounted for 80%.
Thanks to this, the palace was noisier than usual. Since many nobles aiming for the ‘item’ would surely arrive, everything possible had to be prepared.
Most of the palace staff were focused on preparing for the ball, so Riorem occasionally had to leave Pelvice Palace.
Of course, he couldn’t even step into the marble corridors of the palace. He could only go outside via the dirt path around it.
Where Riorem was usually called was where the injured were.
Many injuries occurred during construction or moving goods.
Riorem, having been a temple slave, knew basic treatment. Sometimes he even treated maids, attendants, and knights.
Though just a slave, rarely did he receive thanks from patients, but the work itself wasn’t hard. At least, not as busy as when he was at the temple.
Also, since the ball preparations, the master no longer troubled him by forbidding even simple walks.
After the ball date was set, the master was banned from even simple strolls.
Duke Peroa forbade the master from seeing sunlight at all, fearing the pearl-like pale skin might be tanned.
With the master not going out, Riorem’s tasks disappeared too. No more washing the master’s feet or putting on shoes.
Sometimes he went to take off the master’s shoes after dance practice.
At those times, Riorem saw the most unpleasant side of the master he remembered.
If even Riorem, who was favored, experienced this, the ordinary maids surely were beaten as much as possible.
Still… this seemed better.
Better than suffering strange pain and strange thoughts while facing the master.
Better to see the master only occasionally and be one-sidedly tormented.
Perhaps because of such complacent thinking, something unbearable happened.
After Riorem had finished yet another treatment,
Suddenly, a desperate voice came from down the hall.
“Is there a doctor? Is there a doctor here?”
A familiar voice screamed.
Riorem stood up, sensing something, and looked down the corridor.
The master’s maid was running, screaming.
“Doctor! Call a doctor quickly! Milady… Miss Chernea!”
The moment he heard that, Riorem ran toward the direction the maid was coming from.
Pelvice Palace.
The very place where his master was confined, not quite imprisoned but confined.