The next morning, Arthur made a decision.
He needed answers. Not about the staggering scale of the Valen estate. Not about the deeply corrupt business empire he had inherited. Not even about the dark iron wire wrapped around Elena’s neck that had violently reacted to his own internal magic.
He needed to know what he was.
More importantly, he needed to understand exactly what kind of world he had been thrown into before he made a fatal mistake.
Arthur stood in front of the tall, silver-gilded mirror in his bedroom, sharply adjusting the collar of his dark coat. The reflection staring back at him was still jarring. He had broad shoulders, dark hair, and a tall, powerful frame that looked like it belonged to a man who had spent a decade training with a heavy broadsword—not someone who had spent his entire previous life hunched in front of a glowing computer screen.
He raised his right hand.
*Focus.*
The emerald mana immediately responded, rushing from his chest down to his fingertips. A brilliant, warm green light flared across his knuckles for a brief moment before he willed it back beneath his skin.
Arthur frowned, lowering his hand. The mana was entirely obedient. It felt like his own blood.
But then, there was the other thing.
The violet presence.
He could still feel it sitting heavily at the bottom of his chest. It was entirely quiet this morning. Patient. Like a predator waiting in the tall grass for the perfect moment to strike.
Arthur let out a slow breath. "I need information."
That was the simplest, most undeniable truth. And if this fantasy world functioned anything like the games and novels he was intimately familiar with, there was exactly one place where people gathered to share information about magic, curses, monsters, dangerous territories, and underworld politics.
The Adventurer’s Guild.
Arthur had no idea what kind of rank he would receive. He didn’t even know if the guild would accept a man dressed in the silk and velvet of a wealthy merchant lord. But it was the most logical place to start building a foundation.
He left his room and walked down the grand staircase.
Elena was already waiting for him in the foyer. She wore the simple, practical traveler’s clothes he had found in one of the guest wardrobes. They were nothing extravagant—just a sturdy tunic and dark trousers—but compared to the ragged, dirt-stained burlap she had worn on the auction stage, the difference was profound.
She stood near the heavy oak doors, her hands folded nervously in front of her. When she heard his boots on the stairs, she looked up.
"Are we leaving?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
Her expression immediately became cautious. "Where?"
"The Adventurer’s Guild."
Elena blinked, entirely taken aback. "The Adventurer’s Guild?"
"I want to register."
"For what?"
Arthur paused at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting his coat. "To find out exactly what I can do."
Elena stared at him for several seconds, trying to read his expression. "You... you don’t know?"
"No."
"Then why become an adventurer?"
"Because I don’t know what I’m capable of, Elena," Arthur said, offering her a faint, reassuring smile. "And because I have a very strong feeling I’m going to need a lot of information very soon."
Elena looked away, her eyes dropping to the polished floorboards. There was something noticeably different about Arthur this morning. He seemed calmer, more anchored. But with her heightened sensitivity, she could feel the tension vibrating just beneath that calm exterior. He was fighting a war against something she couldn’t see.
She took a breath and looked back up. "I’ll come with you."
Arthur nodded, opening the heavy front doors. "I thought you might."
The city was already roaring with life by the time they arrived in the carriage.
Merchants shouted aggressively from brightly colored stalls, competing over the noise of heavy wooden carriages rolling across the cobblestone streets. Children darted laughing between the narrow alleys, while heavily armored men and women marched purposefully toward the massive city gates.
Arthur noticed one major detail immediately. Weapons were absolutely everywhere.
Swords hung from hips. Broad spears were slung over shoulders. Intricately carved bows rested on the backs of travelers. He even spotted several strange, glowing crystalline weapons he couldn’t even begin to identify. The world wasn’t pretending to be a peaceful utopia; it simply continued moving forward despite the ever-present danger.
Then, Arthur saw it.
A massive, imposing stone building stood at the intersection of three major market streets. Above its wide entrance hung a heavy iron crest: a broadsword crossing a kite shield.
The carved letters beneath the crest were unmistakable.
*ADVENTURER’S GUILD*
Arthur stopped in the middle of the street. For the very first time since arriving in this chaotic world, he felt something dangerously close to genuine excitement.
"Well," he muttered, a small grin breaking through his serious mask. "Here we go."
Elena followed closely behind him as he pushed the heavy double doors open.
The interior of the guild was enormous. Long rows of scarred wooden tables filled the main hall, packed with adventurers drinking from heavy tankards, eating, arguing loudly, laughing, and sharpening varied weapons.
Behind a long, polished reception counter stood several uniformed clerks. And stretching across the entire back wall was a gigantic wooden board covered in hundreds of pinned parchment requests. Monster extermination. Caravan protection. Rare herb gathering. Missing persons. Dungeon exploration.
Arthur stared at the board. This was exactly what he had expected, yet seeing it in person, hearing the noise, smelling the ale and the polished steel—it made the world feel incredibly real.
A receptionist at the far end of the counter noticed him approaching and offered a professional smile. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, with dark brown hair tied neatly back.
"Good morning," she said brightly. "How can I help you?"
"I’d like to register as an adventurer."
Her eyes moved over his expensive coat, then darted to Elena standing quietly behind him, and then back to his face. "First registration?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any previous guild records in other cities?"
"No."
She pulled out a long sheet of parchment and dipped a quill into an inkwell. "Any formal military experience?"
"No."
"Knight academy training?"
"No."
"Magical academy?"
"No."
The receptionist paused, tilting her head slightly. "Any actual combat experience?"
Arthur thought about the rusting cages in his basement. The hidden tunnel leading to the lake. The human auction. The violently ancient entity he had spoken to in his own mind just hours ago. He decided that explaining all of that would probably create a lot more questions than he was prepared to answer.
"No," Arthur said smoothly.
The receptionist stared at him, her quill hovering over the paper. "You have absolutely no experience?"
"Not officially."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, clearly doubting his sanity.
Arthur offered an awkward smile. "I learn quickly."
She sighed, a sound that suggested she had heard that exact phrase from a hundred dead men. "That’s what everyone says." She pushed the registration form toward him. "Name?"
Arthur hesitated. He couldn’t exactly register as Arthur from Earth. That name belonged to a ghost.
"Arthur Valen."
The receptionist wrote it down in elegant script. "Occupation?"
Arthur looked at the blank space on the form. "Merchant."
The quill stopped moving. The receptionist looked up slowly, her professional demeanor cracking. "You’re... Lord Valen?"
Arthur nodded.
Her expression immediately shifted into cautious deference. "Ah. I see."
So the previous owner really was infamous.
"I’m interested in understanding the world firsthand," Arthur corrected.
The receptionist studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. Registration requires a basic aptitude assessment. We test physical ability, mana capacity, combat compatibility, and basic survival knowledge."
"How long does the assessment take?"
"Usually one day."
Arthur waited. She looked slightly uncomfortable.
"But," she continued, "our senior examiner is currently on assignment outside the city."
"When will she return?"
"Three days."
Arthur frowned, tapping his fingers against the wooden counter. "So I have to wait three days to take the test?"
"Yes, my lord." She stamped the bottom of his application with a wax seal. "You can submit your paperwork today. Once the examiner returns, you’ll undergo the assessment. If you pass, your guild card will be issued immediately."
Arthur finished filling out the remaining information. "Can I still take requests before the assessment?"
"No."
"Can I enter a low-level dungeon?"
"No."
"Can I participate in city defense or monster subjugation?"
"No."
Arthur sighed heavily. "You’re very strict."
"I’m trying to keep you alive, Lord Valen."
Fair enough.
"Come back in three days," she said firmly.
Arthur stood up from the counter. "Three days." He looked toward the massive, chaotic request board one last time. "I suppose I’ll spend those three days learning the layout of the city."
The receptionist smiled, a genuine expression of relief. "That is usually a very good idea."
Arthur turned and walked toward the exit, Elena quietly falling into step beside him.
Once they were back out on the bustling street, Elena looked up at him. "You’re disappointed."
"A little," Arthur admitted.
"You wanted to fight monsters."
"I wanted information." Arthur glanced back at the heavy wooden doors of the guild. "But now I have three days to get it on my own." He smiled. "Which means I shouldn’t waste them."
They decided to walk through the sprawling market district on their way back to the manor.
Arthur had barely taken ten steps past a row of spice merchants when he noticed something that made his blood run cold.
A crowd. But not a normal, bustling market crowd. These people were gathered tightly around a large, open canvas tent positioned between two weapon stalls.
A heavy wooden sign hung above the entrance.
*MAGICAL CONTRACTS & ACQUISITIONS*
Arthur slowed his pace. Then, over the noise of the market, he heard the unmistakable, metallic rattle of chains.
He stopped completely.
Elena noticed the sudden shift in his posture. "Arthur?"
He didn’t answer. Something inside the tent had fully caught his attention. A loud, grating voice shouted from within.
"Strong beastkin! Healthy! Young! Excellent for heavy labor or domestic service!"
Arthur’s expression instantly hardened into stone. He stepped closer to the edge of the crowd.
Elena followed his gaze, read the sign, and immediately understood. She grabbed his sleeve, her fingers trembling. "Arthur, no. Please."
Arthur ignored the warning. He pushed his way through the edge of the crowd and looked through the opening of the tent.
And he saw her. He only saw them in hentai games and videos and here that was a lively being.
A young beast-woman was kneeling on the rough wooden floorboards of the stage. Her wrists were bound in heavy iron cuffs. A thick, dark slave collar surrounded her neck, and two heavy metal chains extended from it, bolted directly to the floor.
Her clothes were torn and coated in road dust. A pair of soft, animal-like ears rose from her tangled, dark hair, but they were pinned flat against her head, trembling violently at every loud shout from the crowd.
She looked exhausted. But it wasn’t just physical fatigue. It was the same devastating, empty expression he had seen on ena at the auction house. The absolute, crushing defeat of someone who had stopped expecting anything good from the world.
Arthur felt something twist violently inside his chest.
The merchant standing on the stage grabbed one of the chains connected to her collar and yanked it hard. "Stand up!"
The beast-woman gasped, struggling to rise to her feet. Her knees trembled violently, nearly giving out under her own weight.
The merchant clicked his tongue in disgust. "Useless."
Arthur’s fingers curled into tight fists.
A faint, violent pulse of violet energy surged beneath his skin. His breathing hitched.
*Not again.*
The curse stirred aggressively. It wasn’t whispering thoughts into his head; it was taking the genuine anger he felt in that moment and flooding it with gasoline. His natural pity warped into blinding rage. His desire to intervene spiked into a suffocating, lethal protectiveness.
Arthur closed his eyes.
*Slowly.* He forced his lungs to expand. He breathed in. He held it. He breathed out.
When he opened his eyes again, the violet glow that had threatened to overtake his vision had faded, pushed back by sheer force of will.
Arthur stepped through the crowd, completely ignoring the people he shoved aside.
"How much?" his voice cut through the noise of the tent like a blade.
The merchant turned, an annoyed insult on his lips, but froze the moment he recognized the dark coat and aristocratic features. "L-Lord Valen?"
Arthur pointed a single, unwavering finger toward the beast-woman. "Her."
The merchant’s face immediately brightened with greedy realization. "Ah! An excellent choice, my lord! Truly exceptional."
Arthur’s jaw tightened. "How much?"
The merchant named a price that was steep, even for the upper districts.
Arthur stared at him for a second. Then, he reached into his heavy coat, pulled out a thick pouch of gold, and slammed it down onto the wooden table in front of the stage.
The merchant stared at the heavy bag. "My lord... that’s twice the asking price."
"Take it."
"But my lord, you certainly don’t need to—"
"I said, *take it*," Arthur growled, the threat in his voice entirely unmistakable.
The merchant practically fell over himself sweeping the gold off the table.
The beast-woman on the stage stared at Arthur. Her golden, slit-pupil eyes were wide, completely unable to process what had just happened.
Arthur stepped onto the wooden stage. The chains rattled as she instinctively flinched away from him.
He stopped several feet away, keeping his hands visible and at his sides. He didn’t move closer. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already was.
"What’s your name?" Arthur asked quietly.
Silence.
The merchant laughed nervously from the table. "She doesn’t talk much, my lord. Stubborn one."
Arthur entirely ignored the man. He kept his eyes locked on the terrified girl. "What is your name?"
Eventually, a broken, raspy whisper escaped her. "Kael..."
Arthur heard it. "Kael?"
She lowered her eyes, staring at the floorboards.
Arthur nodded slowly. "Then I’ll call you Kaelera."
Her ears twitched slightly. *Kaelera.* For some unexplainable reason, the name seemed to bypass her fear and reach somewhere deep inside her.
Arthur turned his back on her and glared at the merchant. "Give me the contract."
The merchant hurriedly handed over the parchment. Arthur read it quickly. It was another magical slave crest. Another soul-bound contract designed to ensure absolute obedience.
His stomach churned with disgust. He folded the paper and shoved it into his coat.
He looked back at Kaelera. "We’re going home."
She stared at him, her ears flattening again. "Home?"
Arthur nodded. "For now."
He didn’t promise her freedom yet. He didn’t know how to break the collars without killing them. But he fully intended to find a way.
"Sir, there is a problem." The merchant with a small frown said.
You have to form a pack with her otherwise, her collar will kill her. That’s the thing Arthur needed to hear which was hurting Elera too. The pact required a shower of intimate bonds to be established between the master and the slave, which he didn’t do when he purchased Elena.
"That’s why she was hurting," Arthur murmured.
The man told him to come by sunset, and he would arrange a room for the inspection and bond formation.
The night was Arthur’s first triple treat. First he got Kaelera and the beast within him ate her raw, then at last he got what most craved for.
A triple treat inside his room.
[Memories Part : Breaking the Beast and triple treat]
The morning came.
Arthur rose up, seeing two beautiful girls naked on the same bed, he couldn’t believe what he had experienced the previous night. Maybe the curse was also a part of those sweat and tireless night drives that made those women scream with pleasure.
In just a few minutes of him reliving that night, both rose up, and with an embarrassed look, Elena pointed Arthur downwards. The only thing he could see was the blanket rising up, like a hard wood was underneath it.
To this Kaelera looked with curiosity while Elena went under the blanket with a tempting voice. "Master, I’ll help you." while the blankets moved, Arthur could feel the heat of that tongue while Elena moved her face underneath the blanket.
That woody morning was the best thing he felt that day. Grabbing kaelera’s by her soft right melon with his right hand, kissing her passionately while she moaned, and pushing Elena’s mouth down his shaft vigorously with his other hand at the same time.
The carriage ride back to the manor was suffocatingly quiet.
Kaelera sat on one side of the plush velvet bench, pulling her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Elena sat beside her, offering a quiet, silent solidarity.
Arthur sat opposite them, staring out the window at the passing city.
After several long minutes, Elena finally broke the silence. "You bought her for twice what you paid for me."
Arthur glanced at her. "I know."
"Why?"
He thought about the question, watching the trees pass by. "I don’t know."
That answer seemed to surprise her.
Arthur looked down at his own hands, resting on his knees. "Maybe because I saw something familiar."
Elena’s eyes softened in understanding.
Kaelera remained completely silent, watching them both with wide, distrustful eyes.
Arthur looked across the carriage at her. "You don’t have to be afraid of me."
Her ears lowered defensively.
"I won’t force you to talk," Arthur said, his voice calm and steady. "And I will never treat you like property."
For the first time since he had approached the stage, her eyes met his. There was profound fear there, yes. But buried just beneath it... there was the smallest, most fragile spark of uncertainty. It was the look of someone trying to understand why a man who had just bought her life for a small fortune would speak to her like a human being.
Arthur leaned back against the seat. "We’ll figure everything out."
By the time the carriage rolled through the iron gates of the manor, the sun had begun to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the estate.
The only maid named Margaret, whom Arthur had briefly met that morning, was waiting at the grand entrance. She smiled warmly when she saw Arthur step down from the carriage.
Then, she noticed Kaelera following slowly behind him.
Her smile instantly vanished. "My lord..."
"I bought her," Arthur said simply.
Margaret’s eyes immediately fell to the heavy iron collar around Kaelera’s neck. "I see."
Arthur stepped past her into the foyer. "Prepare another room for her. In the east wing."
"Of course, my lord."
Kaelera hesitated at the bottom of the stone steps, staring up at the massive, intimidating doors.
Arthur noticed she had stopped. He turned around. "Kaelera?"
She looked up at him, her ears twitching nervously.
"Come inside," Arthur said gently.
Slowly, she took a step forward. One foot onto the stone. Then another.
The absolute millisecond she crossed the threshold into the manor, her heavy iron collar flashed.
*Violet light.*
Arthur froze in his tracks.
His chest burned. The curse immediately awakened.
But it wasn’t the violent, aggressive surge he had felt with Elena. It was a slow, heavy pulse. Almost gentle. As though something ancient had just recognized a familiar scent.
Kaelera gasped, grabbing at her collar as it burned against her skin. Her breathing became rapid and ragged.
Arthur felt the exact same, rhythmic pulse echoing inside his own body.
*Once.*
*Twice.*
Then, the symbol materialized in the air between them. The shattered iron crown. The weeping eye.
But this time, the magic was different. As the violet light intensified, a second mark appeared just beneath the crown. It was the faint, stylized silhouette of a beast.
Arthur stared in horror.
Kaelera dropped to her knees, her eyes wide with terror. "Lord..." her voice trembled violently. "Something... something is calling me."
Arthur’s blood ran completely cold.
From somewhere deep beneath his body, came a sound.
A single, echoing, metallic crack.
*Crack.*
The curse hadn’t just reacted. It had found another connection.
And in that moment, Arthur realized something truly terrifying. Elena’s crest had reacted to him. Now, Kaelera’s collar was reacting to the exact same magic.
These were not isolated, random magical contracts purchased from different merchants.
Something was connecting them. Something buried deep beneath his body.
Something that caused the previous soul departure.