Chapter 3

Ye-hwi, who had been on the verge of issuing a serious threat to the man who dared suggest buying him, reminded himself that he was in the Kingdom of Ansi and held his tongue. He clicked his tongue softly and turned to leave. But just as he took a step, that melodic voice tickled his ears once more.

​”I will ensure you never go hungry.”

​”What?”

​”I won’t strike you, and you’ll always have a roof over your head.”

​”…”

​”I can even take you to the market occasionally to buy you treats.”

​”…”

​”So… come with me.”

​For the first time since they had met, the man’s previously inscrutable face was clouded with genuine earnestness. Was the purchase of a slave a momentous affair that warrants such a desperate look? His family had fallen and his wealth had vanished… and he still had the audacity to need a servant?

​Ignoring him was the logical choice. If Ye-hwi simply walked away, the encounter would end there. On second thought, claiming to already have a master wouldn’t be a bad lie. Or, since the man was so insistent on buying him, Ye-hwi could simply name a price the stranger could never hope to afford.

​Yet, as the man’s handsome face trembled under his gaze, a fleeting, impossible wish crossed Ye-hwi’s mind: he wished the man standing before him were a Maru.

​Ye-hwi’s eyes flickered to the back of the stranger’s neck. Aside from smooth, supple-looking skin, there was nothing. No mark. He was not a Maru.

​”Not interested,” Ye-hwi answered with indifference, turning his back.

“Wait—it will only be for a short while! Just until I can find another servant!”

​​As Ye-hwi moved to leave, the man suddenly lunged forward and seized his wrist. Ye-hwi’s brow furrowed in an instant. Even here, he thought darkly, if the body is never found, it wouldn’t matter, would it? He shot a cold glare at the hand gripping his wrist—and then he felt it. Cool.

​Shinryeok, the divine ability to command fire.

​It was Ye-hwi’s secret power, known only to the Emperor and Empress. Perhaps because he was born with all four divine gifts, or specifically because he possessed Shinryeok, Ye-hwi’s “madness” had manifested earlier and more severely than that of the other princes. Since its onset, his body had felt as if it were perpetually boiling from within, as if he had swallowed a Great Fireball that refused to extinguish.

​While not entirely effective, the proximity of a Maru usually offered some respite, easing the burning inside. But that had only worked in the early stages; now, the relief was close to none; it was almost embarrassing to call it “calming.” Still, it was better than nothing. He continued to suffer the ravages of madness because he had yet to find a Maru with whom he was truly compatible, and so he had no choice but forced himself to endure their embrace simply for that sliver of coolness.

​But now, the touch of this stranger—someone who was decidedly not a Maru—had sent a wave of cooling relief through Ye-hwi’s fevered blood.

​“Six months from now, I will return your purchase contract and provide enough funds for you to settle down elsewhere.”

​Did it truly cool the fever? He isn’t a Maru, so how?

​“Yong-rae, bring it here.”

​Unless a Maru’s bloodline was exceptionally potent, most were indistinguishable from ordinary humans to Ye-hwi. Yet, a non-Maru—a mere commoner—was capable of siphoning away his heat?

​“I would prefer it if you could read, but the terms of this contract state that after six months, you may terminate your service at any time. Upon termination, you will be paid thirty nyang. I cannot pay your full purchase price immediately, but if you look here…”

​“I have no intention of putting my name to such a thing.”

​It was laughable—a man intending to buy a slave despite having no immediate coin. It explained why he was scouting the streets rather than the official auctions; clearly, his house had fallen into ruin. Yet, Ye-hwi’s gaze remained fixed on the man’s bare, smooth white hand still gripping his wrist. It definitely wasn’t a Maru’s touch.

​“I told you, I’m not interested.”

​Ye-hwi’s voice was indifferent as he moved to turn away.

​“Just a moment! Only until I find another servant—wait!”

​As Ye-hwi prepared to depart, the man lunged and seized his wrist again. Yehwi’s brow furrowed. In the Kingdom of Mir, if a servant or a slave dared speak to him with such familiarity, their head would be cut on the spot. He was well aware that Mir and Ansi were different worlds, but he felt the urge to state his terms bluntly regardless.

​He lowered his gaze to the cool sensation echoing from his wrist.

​“A man who claims he’ll buy a slave without a single coin? I find myself amused just listening to you.”

​The man’s hand fell away. Deprived of the contact, the skin around Ye-hwi’s wrist began to simmer once more. Yehwi flexed his fingers, as if trying to catch the phantom remnants of that fleeting coolness, then spoke to the man as he began to walk away with his servant, Yong-rae.

​“I will not sign a contract. Instead, I will set the conditions: I leave whenever I wish. If you can accept that, I will go with you.”

​The man stopped and turned his head. The vague, guarded expression he had worn vanished, replaced by eyes that shimmered with pure joy.

​“And one more thing. This final condition is the most important.”

​Ye-hwi stepped closer, closing the distance until he could inspect the nape of the man’s neck once more.

​Among the Marus, the intensity of their blue-tinted mark was the measure of their blood’s purity. The thicker the dragon-breath blood, the more rich the blue mark is. Some marks were so faint they were only visible if one squinted in the right light; others glowed so fiercely they could be seen through thin fabric.

​Again, he found nothing. This man was not a Maru. But what was that sensation just now? Ye-hwi wondered, his mind racing. Could there be a Maru whose mark is hidden somewhere other than those places he has known? I have never heard of such a thing.

​“Tell me.”

​“We must share a room.”

​“What? Oh, if you mean you want the same accommodations as Yong-rae, of course—”

​“No. Not Yong-rae. You. If you accept my terms, you will be my master from this moment forward. And I sleep where my master sleeps.”

​A spark of hope flickered in the man’s eyes, though it was quickly tinged with embarrassment. In the Kingdom of Mir, if a servant—let alone a slave—dared to suggest such a thing, they would have been executed on the spot. Ye-hwi was well aware that the customs of the two kingdoms differed, yet he issued his ultimatum without a shred of hesitation.

​If the man refused, Ye-hwi figured he could simply tail him to his destination, seize him, and spirit him back to the Kingdom of Mir. Since the man was clearly from a ruined family—spouting such nonsense because he couldn’t afford a single proper slave—Ye-hwi could easily manufacture a justification. In truth, a reason wasn’t even necessary; he would simply take him, and that would be the end of it.

​Yehwi fully expected a rejection, but the man’s pleasantly red lips parted, and an unexpected answer drifted out.

​”Fine. Let’s do that.”

​”Young Master Yoo-ha!”

​Yong-rae, standing beside Seong Yoo-ha, cried out in shock, desperate to stop him. It was only the boy and an old nanny who served the Young Master. Between the two of them, they did the work of five people; the burden was naturally heavy and overwhelming. Yong-rae deeply resented the head of the household for the blatant discrimination against Yoo-ha, but he endured it—the Young Master would be leaving that house soon, anyway.

​However, the old nanny had slipped on a rain-slicked path, injuring her back so severely she was now bedridden. That was why they had traveled all this way to find a replacement. Yet this massive, arrogant bastard of a slave had the audacity to demand the absurd condition of sharing a room with the Young Master himself.

​”Yong-rae, go and buy the skewers he wanted.”

​”Are you really going to listen to him? Goodness—this is madness! We have no idea what kind of thug he is, and you want to share a room with—”

​”Yong-rae.”

​When Yoo-ha turned his head and firmly spoke the servant’s name, Yong-rae snapped his mouth shut. He shot a venomous glare at Ye-hwi and muttered under his breath, “How many should I buy, sir?”

​”Two. Buy one for yourself as well.”

​”Yes, sir.”

​With Yong-rae gone, only Ye-hwi and Seong Yoo-ha remained. Ye-hwi stood in silence, staring down at Yoo-ha and observing him with burning intensity.