Chapter 01 …
That day marked exactly one hundred days since the cursed imperial family of the Western Continent, the Iverres, had been exterminated.
They were said to grow increasingly sullen with age and never trust anyone. Some even claimed they suffered from obsessive-compulsive tendencies.
Because of this, the members of the Iverres family always wore gloves.
“They probably didn’t want to mingle with commoners.”
There was no reason not to mock a family that had already fallen. People in the world spoke as if they had been waiting for their downfall.
The Miltan Empire, which had newly claimed the Western Continent, welcomed it. The Iverres had been their enemies. The more their achievements were trampled by others, the better.
Of course, such stories about a royal family meant nothing once you reached the frontier.
Seventeen-year-old Lady Rone of the Rida household remembered that day not because of some distant royal family, but because of a child she had met.
It was purely by chance.
It was a coincidence that Rone de Rida, a young noblewoman, encountered a carriage carrying slaves.
The carriage was passing through Rida’s fief, a frontier of the empire. The face of the child visible through the window bars looked hollow and hopeless.
This doesn’t look like a child.
That was Rone’s first thought upon seeing the child.
The hair, dulled by dust to a gray hue, had long lost its vitality. The child’s pale eyes were the same.
Eyes dark as if sunk into the depths of the sea.
Perhaps she was drawn to the child’s unnatural appearance. Perhaps it reminded her of a younger sibling who had died young from illness.
“I will buy this child.”
Rone spoke.
The small, delicate noblewoman’s gaze met the child’s.
The child’s wrists were cuffed in blood-soaked shackles. Layered dirt covered the raw wounds. The child must have been trapped in that carriage and dragged across the empire for a long time.
“Ah, finally someone willing to buy me. But… this child has some defects. Are you sure you want him?”
The coachman, recognizing her noble status, glanced at the child.
“He looks quite appealing, but many young ladies have tried to take him and given up.”
Why? Rone’s eyes narrowed on the child.
The child’s appearance was nearly hidden by dirt. Her gaze lingered briefly on the child’s wounds before moving away.
The child was staring back at Rone.
“…….”
Sharp eyes. Perhaps not the perfect word, but the piercing gaze of a child that seemed anything but innocent was directed at her.
A face full of life, as if ready to kill.
The child’s lips were bitten until they bled, yet he never stopped glaring at her.
“…….”
Rone saw pride there. Pride in refusing to be sold. Without realizing it, she whispered to the child.
“Humiliation is only temporary.”
The coachman rambled about the child’s background, but Rone paid him little mind.
“I oppose slavery.”
Yet the child did not look convinced. She whispered again.
“Being with me gives you a better chance of escape than being trapped here.”
“…….”
The child stared at Rone—the young noblewoman who wanted to buy him. Could her words be trusted?
Rone did not look away.
The child’s expression softened slightly. Rone whispered once more.
“Humiliation is only temporary.”
The child seemed to understand this time and lowered his gaze.
“What’s wrong with him?”
The surprised coachman stammered.
“He’s usually not so obedient. Perhaps he’s finally tired… or maybe he’s hungry…”
Earlier, the coachman had listed the child’s defects, but seeing Rone’s intent to buy him, he now recited all the child’s virtues. Rone interrupted him politely.
“How much?”
The child remained silent at the question. The coachman, amazed, held up a finger.
“One gold coin.”
A ridiculously small amount for a human life. Yet the coachman looked satisfied to have passed off his cargo. Without hesitation, Rone handed over a gold coin.
Clank!
“Be sure to remove the shackles at home, and bring knights to do it! A young lady like you cannot handle him alone. It would be best to summon the knights first.”
Rone shook her head. The child watched her carefully, still a little suspicious.
“…….”
Rone shook her head slightly, rejecting the coachman’s so-called favor.
The coachman, unsure if a noblewoman could refuse, shrugged, handed over the key, and left.
The Rida household’s maid, who had remained silent, quickly stepped in front of Rone.
“Miss, it’s dangerous.”
“I’m fine.”
Fearlessly, Rone reached for the child.
Clank.
The bloodied shackles fell to the floor. Their hands finally met.
“……!”
Startled, the child pulled back.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Even after hearing that, the child kept her eyes wide, staring up at her. Yet when Rone remained still, the child slowly placed his hand atop hers.
“…….”
As if reading her intentions, the child finally lowered his guard after looking into her eyes.
“Let’s go home first and have a meal. Even if we leave soon, it’ll be fine, right?”
The dusty hand was grasped by Rone’s gentle one. She noticed the child’s hair.
Covered in dust, it appeared gray—but on closer inspection, it was golden.
‘Come to think of it, the Iverres family, known for their obsessive cleanliness, had golden hair.’
Rone recalled a noble golden-haired lineage from a neighboring country, then erased it from her thoughts. The Miltan Empire, which had replaced the old royal family, had exterminated the previous family entirely.
There was no reason to connect this child to them.
With the Iverres gone, Miltan valued silver hair as the noblest trait.
“Let’s go.”
The child followed Rone cautiously.
Of course, the Rida Count did not approve of the child. Even if it weren’t this particular child, Rone had always been a thorn in the Count’s side.
To him, she was a noblewoman who only spread useless rumors.
“Let him go if you lose interest. Bringing in a dusty commoner.”
“You brought the same as me, didn’t you?”
Her stepmother, a mage, sought only to extract wealth from the Rida household.
She, along with the Count, disliked Rone the most.
“Cursed one.”
Rone had heard that from the age of five. When holy magic would not work on her, priests called her a child abandoned by God, brandishing a cross.
The eyes of her parents pierced her back.
“Seems dusty, eh?”
Her stepmother gestured to the knight.
“Lock up that dusty thing in a room. Let it clean itself a bit in the dust pit.”
The Countess coughed dramatically, averting her eyes from Rone with disdain.
“Yes, ma’am!”
The knight grabbed Rone’s arm roughly, showing no respect.
“……!”
Rone’s arm ached from the pull. Yet the knight dragged her across the corridor as if she were a criminal.
“Ah…!”
She lost her hold on the child. Turning back, she saw the child glaring at the knight even more fiercely than when trapped in the carriage.
The child’s eyes were fixed on the knight, as if seeing something else entirely.
It was the gaze of a wounded little beast.
“Go in!”
Respectful only in words, the knight roughly shoved the child into the room.
“!”
Startled, Rone instinctively caught the child.
Thud!
They fell to the floor, clutching each other. The impact jolted her entire body.
“Ah….”
Bang!
The knight slammed the door shut.
“Cursed one…”
Rone heard it clearly.
Once they had gone, she turned to the child.
‘It’s a usual occurrence, so I’m fine.’
Yet the child seemed surprised.
“……You may leave whenever you want.”
The cursed mansion.
Rone called it that. Even if God did not answer her prayers, she believed He had not abandoned her.
‘If God had abandoned me, He wouldn’t have let me be born.’
That thought had ended long ago.
‘Cursed mansion.’
Rone closed and opened her eyes once more.
“……Or, you may stay here.”
This place wasn’t ideal for the child. But it was better than the streets, better than the carriage bars.
It was a pure act of kindness. A favor with no benefit to her.
Yet sometimes, Rone thought, that was enough.
For her, it was a small gesture of letting someone stay in a corner of a room. For the child, it was not.
What wrong had such a young child done to become a slave? Surely he was the child of enslaved parents. That was his only crime.
Rone genuinely hated slavery, as she had said. Perhaps she remembered the countless slaves beaten by her father in her place.
Her father, as if she were not a noble, struck the slaves without restraint. Children her age were left with broken bones, bruises, and bloodied bodies.
All this cruelty had one reason:
Rone was a cursed child, untouched by holy magic.
“…….”
The child looked up at Rone and then nodded.
“Wash this child first.”
Only one maid followed Rone. The maid Lin’s mother had been close to Rone’s mother.
“Yes, Miss.”
The household staff who received salaries and the slaves treated as less than human were clearly different in status.
But Lin, the maid, took the child’s hand without hesitation. She guided him gently to the bathroom.
The child did not resist. Instead, he spoke to Rone.
“I will not forget this favor.”
It was the first words the child had spoken. His eyes, still as dark as the deep sea, met Rone’s.
The hostility was gone.
Rone nodded, not fully understanding what the child meant.
“Good.”
She had thought it was a casual remark.
“My name is Navel.”
The child, speaking in a way unusual for his age, entered the bathroom.
“This is the name I tell only to you.”
He whispered softly, stepping with his scarred feet onto the clean floor.
