1. A Slave’s Life

A sweet yet strangely musty smell of alcohol filled the party hall. Endless bursts of laughter piled layer upon layer over the smell of alcohol.

The air, thick and heated as densely as the smell of alcohol, grew hotter instead of cooling despite the deepening night.

Throughout the party hall, people groping each other’s bodies with sticky hands wore ornate masks on their faces.

It was truly a night worthy of being called a ‘night of debauchery.’

The night of debauchery was slang referring to masked balls held secretly among the nobility. True to the nuance conveyed by the words, the masked ball was merely a pretense—in reality, it was a place to satisfy desires while hiding behind flimsy masks.

Though they were half-masks that covered faces inadequately, they were sufficient to strip away pretense and petty morality.

Stripped of such things, the nobles wandered like beasts, busy searching for their mates. Whether unmarried or married, regardless of their original status.

In a gathering created for that purpose, no one refused seductive advances. If someone did refuse a seduction, it was most likely because the other person wasn’t to their taste.

It was a mad night’s party where one could freely satisfy one’s desires.

Yet there was a madman strutting through this mad night’s party with his bare face, without even a mask.

“Look there. It’s Count Ruperto.”

“I didn’t think he’d come today too. I heard he met Duke Barea during the day.”

“Isn’t he being too shameless when marriage talks are going back and forth?”

“You underestimate the Count too much. A pig would sooner stop eating.”

Small laughter erupted among those conversing at the vulgar remark. But everyone’s gaze remained fixed on the Count.

Because Count Ruperto was perfect in appearance alone. His golden hair was so brilliant one could say the sun had mistaken the time and risen at night.

Even amid the stirring atmosphere, Count Ruperto blended into the night of debauchery with a leisurely gait, his expression unchanged.

His expression was cold, devoid of even a fragment of emotion, and his stride was fittingly confident. He was a man who suited the notorious reputation of being the capital’s most vulgar and most arrogant libertine better than anyone.

“Tsk, putting on airs. A mad sun, that’s what he is.”

A bearded, masked man clicked his tongue. His voice was small compared to his momentum of disapproving of Count Ruperto. Because he was aware there was a problem with his statement.

In the Solania Empire, only the Emperor was the sun. Daring to compare someone other than the Emperor to the sun was a crime of lèse-majesté.

Moreover, not even a proper sun but a ‘mad’ sun. It was a remark that belittled both the Emperor and the Count simultaneously.

“Watch your mouth. What if the Count hears you?”

“So what if he hears? What can that b*stard do? He has neither honor nor power. All he has is money.”

The man glared at Count Ruperto as if to devour him. He owed the Count a massive debt. Even though his business had failed due to his own mistakes, he was claiming that Count Ruperto had sabotaged his business behind the scenes.

The slow dance music flowing through the ballroom ended. Women who had parted from their partners stared intently at Count Ruperto.

“What on earth is Count Ruperto thinking? He always attends without wearing a mask like that.”

“The reason’s obvious. Look at that face. Covering it with a mask would be a loss.”

The Count sat at a table placed along the edge of the party hall. His delicately carved, sculpture-like handsome face combined with his relaxed posture and cold expression created a strange atmosphere. His attitude was cold enough to freeze even the surrounding air, but that very point made his presence stand out even more.

“Why does the reason matter? We just need to gratefully admire that fine face and that’s enough.”

“Flower-viewing gets old after once or twice. I’m dying of frustration just watching every time. I’m so frustrated that when I see him and go home, the Count appears in my dreams.”

“If you’re that frustrated, try approaching him pretending to be a slave. Where else would you try it if not here?”

“Are you telling me to pretend to be a slave right now? Are you crazy?”

“Calm down. Since the Count likes slaves so much, you shouldn’t take what I said seriously.”

“It’s not that he likes slaves—he won’t even look at anyone who isn’t a slave.”

“And he takes a new slave every time.”

“But what did he do with all those slaves? There must be more than one or two.”

Someone raised a question in a low voice. Several people nodded in agreementwith the question.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Count Ruperto was collecting slaves.

Since slave trading was a legal act in the Empire, there was no problem, but it certainly was strange.

If it was just to enjoy for one night, there was no need to buy slaves.

Moreover, continuously buying new slaves meant he wasn’t satisfied with the slaves he owned, didn’t it? Then it would be profitable to resell the slaves he’d tired of, but there had never been rumors of Count Ruperto selling slaves.

“I heard this story…… After spending one night with them, he kills them all. Because he’s tired of them.”

“Good heavens, how horrifying.”

“That man seems like he would do that.”

“He’s definitely a demon with gold flowing instead of blood in his body. Who would deal with a man like that? Since no one will look at him, he must be buying pitiful slaves to enjoy.”

The woman who had spat out those words turned around. She was a woman who harbored resentment toward him after being rejected by Count Ruperto several times. Taking that as a signal, the gathered women dispersed, and the men who had been watching them began to move stealthily.

Diego Ruperto, the actual subject of the gossip, sat peacefully with his legs crossed.

Gazes were drawn once more to his elegant yet indolent figure. Paying no heed, he slowly and meticulously scanned the party hall with his ash-gray eyes.

He was used to people’s gazes. And to becoming gossip fodder they chewed over at will.

Diego tapped the table with his long fingers. The man standing behind him brought champagne. Following the bubbles rising in the glass with his eyes, he took a light sip.

It was cheap wine with terrible taste and aroma, pretentiously imitating champagne only on the surface. Just like everyone gathered in this place.

Diego, who had been motionless like a still life painting, moving only his eyes, tilted his head slightly at one moment. His gaze reached a thin-framed woman in a corner.

The woman was so hunched over she looked crumpled rather than standing.

Looking around, the woman hesitated for a moment before reaching for a lamp fixed above her head. Unlike other brightly lit lamps, only that lamp was unlit.

But right after the woman reached out, the lamp lit up.

It was also at that moment that light dwelled in Diego’s ash-heap-like eyes.

“Bring her.”

“Yes.”

Luca, the man standing behind Diego, moved. His movement meant Diego’s hunt had begun. The air stirred greatly. Everyone held their breath and sent interested gazes toward Luca.

Indeed, who would be the slave to become Diego Ruperto’s prey tonight?

Luca brought the woman and stood her before Diego. It was that woman who had lit the lamp in the corner just moments ago. Without anyone telling her to, the woman knelt and prostrated herself before Diego.

“I-I-I’m sorry. My life, just spare my life……”

“Raise your head. So I can see your face.”

“Y-yes……! Yes!”

The woman immediately raised her head. A crack sounded from her neck due to tension.

Only then did Diego rise from his seat and put on gloves. Then he grabbed the woman’s chin and turned it this way and that. It wasn’t a rough touch, but it wasn’t a gentle touch either.

“Not bad.”

Diego, who had spat out one remark, let go without lingering attachment. As the hand gripping her chin fell away, the woman’s teeth chattered madly.

Diego cast an indifferent glance at such a woman once and passed by her.

“I’ll take this one today. Handle it.”

“Understood.”

He left the ballroom with the same straight, elegant gait as when he’d entered. He was even confident, like a beast that had successfully completed a hunt.

His attitude was excessively plain for someone swept up in l*st seeking a one-night companion, but everyone present focused only on the fact that Diego had found a new slave and whispered among themselves.

As if Diego Ruperto must absolutely be a promiscuous person.

Voices mixed with malice and curiosity clung to Diego’s heels like shadows, but Diego didn’t care in the slightest.

The next day, two rumors about Diego Ruperto spread rampantly throughout the capital.

That he had once again bought a new slave at the night of debauchery.

And the rumor that upon hearing this news, Duke Barea, who had been pursuing marriage talks between the Count and his daughter, had flown into a rage.