What happened?

  No matter where Lucius looked, there was nothing but darkness. But it wasn’t an ordinary darkness—it felt alive, almost like a solid substance.

  Just an instant.

  That darkness was replaced by one he recognized well.

  Squinting, he tried to make out his surroundings. At the same time, he raised his body, which was curled into a fetal position.

  “Ugh!”

  He clenched his teeth when his head hit something flat as he tried to get up, his body falling back into its original, cramped position.

  Feeling around, he realized two things: his hands were bound with thick ropes, and he was trapped inside a metal cage. A very small one, barely over a cubic meter.

  What happened?

  Ignoring the pain in his head, he tried to recall his last memories.

  He had gone to the city with Mira, spending almost the entire afternoon at the western district square.

  When the magic show began, they went to watch. Mira was even called up on stage to participate.

  Right. It was then.

  He touched his head, feeling the swelling there.

  Shortly after Mira went up on stage, he had been struck on the head by something and lost consciousness.

  And then… I was brought here.

  His eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light.

  He was inside a stone room with no lighting whatsoever. The only apparent exit was the iron door in the corner of the room.

  The room was filled with several cages identical to his. And just like his, every one of them held someone captive.

  Elves.

  Not humans, but elves. With pointed ears and supernatural beauty, there was no mistaking it. Each cage held a captured elf.

  Most of them were women who appeared to be in their early twenties, though given elven physiology, their true age was likely much higher. There were also some children—both boys and girls.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what this was.

  Slaves.

  Or at the very least, captive elves who would be sold as slaves.

  For a moment, he considered the possibility that he was outside the Aster family’s territory—or even outside the Empire—given the laws of both regarding the slave trade. But a colder thought told him that was impossible. He didn’t seem to have been unconscious for that long. He was most likely still in Nowen.

  An illegal facility keeping elven slaves.

  His gaze shifted to the cage beside his, occupied by a female elf.

  “Where are we?”

  What he wanted was an exact location. But his question was met with silence.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Once again, nothing.

  Annoying.

  Lucius clicked his tongue. She didn’t seem like she would be much help. Turning to the other side, he repeated the question—this time to a young elf who looked about the same age as his sister. But the boy merely shrank back in fear and said nothing.

  All of them…

  At that moment, with a loud creak, the room’s door opened. Light flooded the entrance, casting shadows across the room like the twisted branches of a rotten tree.

  Standing in the doorway was a rugged-looking man with short gray hair and sharp, attentive eyes. He was built like a bear, nearly two meters tall. He wore leather pants and a sleeveless vest left open at the chest, revealing numerous scars. At his waist hung a sword—far too wide to have been made by imperial hands.

  A foreigner?

  The man’s features made Lucius certain of it. Probably from the westernmost part of the continent.

  The man’s gaze swept over all the cages—or rather, all the captives inside them—who, without exception, recoiled in fear under his stare.

  In the end, however, his eyes settled on Lucius’s cage. Whistling, he walked over and opened it, gesturing for Lucius to come out.

  Lucius did as instructed, dragging his body out of the cage.

  As soon as he stood, the man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the exit.

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  Lucius did not resist, allowing the man to guide him.

  Beyond the door was a narrow corridor, lit by a few torches that pushed back the darkness. It stretched for about twenty meters, ending at a stone staircase that led to a wooden door.

  As they walked, Lucius noticed that the room he had been in wasn’t the only one. There were five more—three on each side.

  Are there more slaves inside them?

  Since they were all closed, he couldn’t be sure, but the likelihood was high.

  They crossed the corridor, climbed the stairs, and stopped before the door, which opened the moment the man placed his hand on it.

  “Move.”

  The man gave Lucius’s arm a violent yank, throwing him through the doorway. He stumbled, nearly falling, but somehow managed to keep his balance.

  Straightening up, he examined the room he had been brought into. It was far too large for someone dealing in illegal business. The stone walls were covered with thick, garishly colored tapestries, and a massive dark-wood desk sat at the center—heavy, overly ornate, with poorly matched golden carvings. Polished metal candelabras flooded the room with excessive light, reflecting off decorative goblets, expensive statuettes, and tasteless objects scattered without order. Forced ostentation, closer to arrogance than elegance.

  Seated behind the desk was a middle-aged man—short and rotund, dressed in opulent clothes, his body adorned with countless jewels.

  “So, you’re the son of the great Duke Aster?” the man said with open disdain.

  Lucius did not answer, merely watching him in silence.

  I don’t recognize him. And since the first thing he does upon seeing me is mention my father in that tone, he’s probably his enemy. So I’m leverage against the duke?

  Lucius let out a cold laugh, which did not go unnoticed.

  “Hey, didn’t you hear me?” the man said harshly. “And what’s with that smile? Are you mocking me?”

  He glanced at the gray-haired man and gestured. Lucius understood the meaning of the gesture a moment later, when a fist struck his face.

  “That was to wipe that crooked smile off your face,” the man said with a cold snort before laughing arrogantly. “You must be wondering who I am, or why you’re here, right?”

  “Probably because my father offended you, and since you can’t take revenge on him directly, you decided to kidnap me,” Lucius replied indifferently.

  Pathetic.

  The man was taken aback but soon scowled.

  “That’s right,” he spat. “Your father is quite impressive, isn’t he? Treating everyone like trash, looking down on others like he’s superior.”

  He slammed his fist on the desk.

  “But he’ll learn he can’t mess with me and get away with it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very bright plan,” Lucius said mockingly. “Do you think my father won’t look for me? The duke isn’t an idiot. Knowing there’s bad blood between you, it won’t take long before his guards knock on your door. And besides me, there are all those elves downstairs. Your situation doesn’t seem like one where you should be drawing this much attention.”

  “Hmph.” The man scoffed. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  He pointed toward the door Lucius had come through. No—there was no door anymore, just an ordinary wall.

  Some kind of magic?

  The man smiled arrogantly.

  “Besides the fact that this property’s basement isn’t part of its original blueprint, it’s concealed by a powerful illusion spell. Even if the ducal guards search this place from top to bottom, they won’t find a thing.”

  Lucius nodded. The man wasn’t as stupid as he had initially thought.

  “So are you planning to keep me locked up down there, or kill me?” Lucius asked curiously.

  The man frowned, clearly bothered by Lucius’s calm demeanor.

  “You’ll be sold along with the other slaves,” he said with a cold smile.

  Once again, he waited for a reaction, clicking his tongue when he didn’t get one.

  “But this is quite a large operation you’ve got here. What is it, around a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty elves down there?” Lucius asked, changing the subject.

  “Something like that,” the man replied, pride evident in his expression.

  Lucius considered the problem.

  “And how do you plan to move them? No—move us. With the new ducal law, smuggling that many people without drawing attention will be quite difficult.”

  The man’s expression darkened.

  “I have my methods,” he said irritably. “But you’re asking too many questions, boy.”

  As if struck by an idea, the man began to smile.

  “Ah, I see. Even though you try not to show it, you’re anxious, aren’t you?” He scratched his belly beneath his shirt. “But don’t worry. You’ll get to stay in your hometown for a few more weeks. Just… not in the nicest part of the city. Hahahahaha.”

  Speaking of which…

  Lucius remembered something.

  “I was accompanied by my servant. What happened to her?” he asked.

  The man frowned and looked at the gray-haired man.

  “Is that so?”

  The gray-haired man nodded.

  “I captured him when they got separated.”

  “And you let the maid go?” the fat man asked with an irritated grunt, panic flashing in his eyes.

  The gray-haired man narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m not an idiot,” he said coldly. “I had my men dispose of her.”

  “R-right,” the fat man nodded, turning back to Lucius. “You heard that, boy?”

  He leaned forward over the desk, his bulk preventing him from going very far.

  “What? Was she your lover?”

  A lecherous grin spread across his face.

  “Too bad. If I’d known, I would’ve asked Mr. Igor to bring her in alive so I could fuck her right here in front of you.”

  Lucius suddenly burst out laughing, leaving the man bewildered.

  “W-what’s wrong with you? Did you get hit too hard on the head?”

  But Lucius kept laughing, his whole body shaking. Finally, he looked back at the man with disdain.

  “My gods, you really are pathetic,” he said with a crooked smile.

  The man wasn’t angry—incredulous was the right word.

  “The duke insults you, but you don’t have the means to go against him, so you go after his children. And out of all of them, you choose me—the one with the lowest standing. And now this?”

  Lucius tilted his head slightly, as if observing an interesting insect.

  “You’re not seeking revenge,” he continued. “You’re seeking validation. You want to prove to yourself that you matter.”

  The man’s fat hands clenched the edge of the desk hard enough to make his rings clink.

  “Shut up,” he growled.

  Lucius remained unfazed.

  “If you really wanted to hurt my father, you would’ve gone after someone who mattered. My older brother. Or my sister.”

  He shrugged.

  “But you chose the safe option. The weakest one. The one that would bring the least consequences.”

  A cold smile formed on his face.

  “That’s why you’ll never be anyone. Just a petty merchant—a cockroach scurrying around, trying not to be crushed under the feet of real people.”

  The man shot to his feet, his chair screeching backward.

  “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” he screamed, his face red with rage. “You think I got where I am by being underestimated like you’re doing now?!”

  He stormed around the desk, advancing toward Lucius, his breath heavy with grease, his breathing frantic.

  “I built all of this with my own hands! This operation, these connections, this fortune!” he shouted so loudly that saliva flew from his mouth. “What would a brat born with a silver spoon know?! Don’t fuck with me!”

  He raised his fist, ready to strike Lucius, but—

  Bang!

  The office door was destroyed with a thunderous crash.

  The man recoiled in shock, Igor drew his sword, and Lucius frowned.

  And then—

  “Young master!”

  Mira’s voice echoed throughout the room as she appeared in the corridor outside, dragging two large, battered, unconscious men by their feet.

  “Are you all right, young master?” she asked, in her usual tone.

  A small smile appeared on Lucius’s face.

  “Obviously.”