The heavy iron gates creaked open with a low groan.
A gust of warm morning air rolled through the grand hall, brushing past the lined-up servants like a silent warning.
Every maid, butler, and guard present lowered their heads.
Thud! Thud!
Boots tapped against the marble floor.
A young man, who seemed to be in his early twenties strode into the manor with casual arrogance of a spoiled noble brat.
Hands folded behind his back like he owned the place.
His raven-black hair was slicked neatly to the side, framing a pale, unblemished face.
High cheekbones. Cold, sea-gray eyes that scanned the hall with practiced boredom.
He wore a sharp indigo tunic threaded with gold, his family crest discreetly embroidered over the heart.
The silk shimmered slightly as he walked.
Four guards flanked him, each clad in plated armor painted with dark crimson lacquer.
Their helms bore no plumes, but their capes bore a noble house insignia.
Their expressions were flat, hollow. Professional.
All of them carried swords, and not one of them looked like they were there just for show.
But none of that made Alaric’s jaw tighten.
The woman next to him.
She followed closely behind, chained by the neck.
She wore a sleeveless violet silk dress that clung to her pale, supple skin.
Her hips swayed with every step, but her expression betrayed nothing.
Her head remained low, her long Midnight blue hair cascading like a curtain down her back.
Her hands were clasped together at her waist, trembling faintly.
Violet eyes stared at the floor, empty.
Clink!
The clinking sound of iron filled the air as the young noble yanked the chain forward.
She stumbled a step, but didn’t resist.
Alaric’s hands slowly curled into fists.
Beside him, Iris’s face stiffened, she clenched her skirt tightly in her hands, turning her gaze away.
"Welcome, honored guest."
Selene’s voice broke through the tension like smooth glass.
She descended the main staircase with effortless grace, her silken white and emerald gown trailing behind her.
Her hair was pinned elegantly, her eyes cool but polite.
She stepped forward, stopping just short of the young man, offering a small nod of greeting.
Alaric watched.
Her face gave nothing away.
Not even a flicker of disgust as her gaze briefly slid past the trembling woman at his side.
Selene said a few pleasant words, low, courteous and diplomatic.
The kind spoken a thousand times to men like him.
The young man replied, with a casual and oily voice.
His tone overly familiar.
Then Selene gestured toward one of the guest corridors.
"This way, please. Your chambers have been prepared."
He nodded and followed her, tugging the chained woman behind him like a dog on a leash.
The guards remained behind, taking their positions around the hallway as ordered.
As the footsteps faded into the distance—
Clap!
The head maid clapped her hands once. Her voice sharp.
"Back to your posts. Servants on dining duty, move."
Alaric blinked out of his thoughts.
Without a word, he turned and began walking.
Iris followed beside him, quiet now, her previous spark nowhere to be seen.
They made their way through the hallway toward the kitchen and preparation areas.
Servants buzzed around like insects.
There was no room for mistakes today.
Soon after, Alaric and the other servants entered the guest hall with silent steps.
The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of hanging crystal lanterns.
Velvet drapes framed the tall windows, casting thin golden streaks across the marble floor.
The long dining table at the center gleamed under the light, already set with fine silverware and porcelain plates.
At the head of the table sat the young nobleman.
He leaned back casually in his chair, legs slightly spread, one arm thrown lazily over the backrest. His other hand toyed with the wine goblet, spinning it by the stem.
Selene sat to his right, elegant, composed, a subtle smile on her lips as she sipped from her porcelain cup.
The chained slave girl knelt on the floor beside his chair, her hair falling over her shoulders like moonlight.
She didn’t speak, neither moved.
Her hands rested neatly on her lap, collar glinting faintly in the light as the chain pooled beside her.
Alaric took his place quietly among the others, moving with careful precision as he lifted a dish from the tray.
Selene placed her cup down gently, turning slightly toward the young noble.
"I hope the journey wasn’t too tiring, Lord Renard."
Renard smirked faintly.
"Hah, the roads are never kind to men of my breeding," he said with a practiced sigh.
"But... this estate’s hospitality always makes up for it, Lady Selene."
He said her name with a casual familiarity, just brushing the edge of impropriety, yet never fully crossing it.
Selene gave a soft chuckle, her expression unreadable.
"We’re honored to have you."
As the conversation continued, the servants began placing the dishes.
Trays of roasted duck, herb-buttered roots, braised meat, fruit preserves, and wine were brought forward.
The scent filled the air.
Alaric moved like clockwork, placing utensils and pouring wine.
Lord Renard’s gaze flicked idly from servant to servant.
Then it landed on Iris.
It lingered.
Just a second too long.
His lips twitched in interest, but he said nothing.
Iris didn’t seem to notice, she kept her eyes down, moving quietly as she plated a portion of food.
Then, lowering herself slightly, she turned toward the kneeling slave girl beside Renard, holding out the plate gently.
But before she could hand it over—
Clack!
A hand shot out.
And Renard grabbed her wrist.
"Wait there."
His voice cut through the room.
Everything stilled for a beat.
Even Selene tilted her head slightly.
Alaric froze mid-step.
Iris stiffened, her body going still as a statue, her fingers still holding the plate in the air.
Renard’s fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist.
His voice was quiet but laced with cold amusement.
"Who gave you permission to feed her?"
Iris immediately bowed her head, her voice trembling.
"F-Forgive me, my lord. I... I didn’t mean to overstep..."
Renard didn’t answer at first.
He simply looked at her for another moment.
Then, slowly, he released her wrist but not before giving it a subtle squeeze.
As if marking her.
Then he leaned back, turned his attention to Selene again, and resumed talking as though nothing had happened.
Iris stepped back quickly, her face pale, hands trembling faintly as she clutched the plate to her chest.
But Alaric—
His eyes were fixed on Renar.
And his fists were clenched behind his back.
’The world is really filled with filths.’